I believe I mentioned here previously that, at The National, we conduct nearly all newsroom business in English. We just can’t always be sure that’s what it is. English. I mean, there’s a reason “Trainspotting” had subtitles in the U.S.

When the Scots get going … it’s a major matter of “excuse me?” For the Yanks, anyway. And, then, maybe no one from the Midlands north has the vaguest idea what we nasal SoCal-ifornians are saying, when we start droppin’ Gs from our gerunds.

Anyway, our communications issues aren’t just about accents … though that certainly comes up.

It’s about journalese, as well. Expressions that have fairly common usage in the States … they don’t use in England/Scotland/Wales/Ireland/the sub-continent.

For example:

In U.S, newsrooms, we talk about leads.

That means nothing to Brits. Our “leads” are their “intros.”

Just getting started here.

“Datelines” are “placelines.”

“Reefers” are “pointers.”

A “blurb” (text pulled out of a story for usage as a graphic device) is a “blob,” for Brits.

Our sports “agate” is their “sibs” (sports in brief). Yeah. Wacky.

They have something they call a “standfirst” … which might be called a “read-in” in the States. A secondary hed in an expository form right above the text.

Our “copy editors” are their “subs”. Our “slots” are their “backbenchers.”

Our “dummies” are their “flat plans.”

Our “double trucks” are their “spreads.”

Our lead story (on A1) … they call “the splash.”

Brits have no idea what “30” at the end of a story might mean. I have yet to find one who knows what a pica pole is — though that could be more generational than regional.

Then we have all the words for punctuation we can’t quite agree upon.

Our “period” is their “full stop.” Our “quote marks” are their “inverted commas.” (No. Really.) Our “parantheses” are their “brackets.” Aha, you say, then what do they call “brackets?” Already been down that road, and they call brackets “square brackets.”(Again: Really.)

I could go on about basic sports terms that we use differently. We have “standings.” They have “tables.” We have “schedules” and they have “fixtures.” We write “gamers” they write “reports.”

In the office, we check the “schedule” to see what our days off next week are; they check the “rota.” We have “resumes.” They have “CVs.” (Curriculum vitae; Latin, you see.)

Eventually, it all gets worked out. I don’t recall a major error in the paper because some Yank asked a Brit about whether “we can run those standings in agate, once you fix that guy’s lead and take out the parantheses.” But as we come to terms with … terms … we have at least one or two moments of confusion every night. And that’s even before we open our mouths. Eventually, it’s more fun than annoying.