The following cannot be considered a comprehensive guide for it is neither complete in accounting for all the counties of these ancient isles nor written in the same kind of academic depth and rigour as such works as “The Oxford Book of British Place-Names” or “The Ladybird Book of Counties.” However, where it falls down on accuracy and honesty, it does make up for it in superficiality and inanity.
Let us start, like most guides to the counties, with the oldest of them all: Kent.
Kent – Named after the ancient street of London, ‘Old Kent Road’ (at the time simply known as ‘Kent Road’), the connotations of its name have evolved almost imperceptible since its Anglo-Saxon roots. Meaning ‘disfavoured one’ or ‘he/she of disagreeable personal qualities’, it was given in response to the original Celtic tribes by the invaders, as they wouldn’t share their pigs with them.
Gloucestershire – pronounced ‘Gloucestershire’, is of course most famous now for its sub-aquatic geese farms. However, the word itself comes from the OE glossa – meaning shiny. It is believed that the term originated from the early settlers who were considered extremely greasy due to their curious habit of rubbing live cormorants against their scalps to ward off witches. Julius Caesar himself noted the custom in his notoriously inaccurate account of the Gallic Wars – here translated by Prunella Scales: ‘And when Caesar did see the barbaric Glossae besmear their hirsute hides in the grease of living cormorants, Caesar decided it was time to go home and leave them to their Bacchanalian idiosyncrasies.’
Middlesex – It was, of course, named in honour of its ancient inhabitants who were all hermaphrodites.
Sussex – garners its name from its original Queen, Susan, who was also a madam famed for her harem.
Warwickshire – or ‘Land of the Aggressive Candles’. The county earned this name when its most famous son of the 15th century, Richard Neville went around choosing kings by threatening to insert four pounds of wax in their royal prerogative if they declined. In February 1467 alone he managed to pressgang a remarkable 83 different people into declaring themselves the rightful King of England.
Essex – Named after a visiting Yorkshireman’s mild surprise at the inappropriate displays of carnal intimacy – a phenomenon that still survives to today. The original pronunciation has become corrupted over time and laziness.
Glamorgan – Marc Bolan’s penis.
Northumbria – Two potential origins exist for this county’s name. The first, a geographical curiosity, has it literally meaning ‘North of Umbria’. Perhaps it could indicate continental drift and that Italy used to be a stone’s throw from Berwick. Or it could simply be down to lazy cartographers. Of course Berwick was famously still at war with Italy until 1987 when Tuscany finally apologised about what it’d said about it’s Mum. However, the alternative etymology of Northumbria comes from OE ‘norr/no’ meaning no or neither, + OE δumb meaning thumb + rea/riar meaning posterior – or, to put it succinctly, ‘place of no proctologists’.
Cornwall – named after the large maize construction built to keep out the frost giants.
Surrey – named after an apologetic Brummie who once visited and the locals took a shine to.
Berkshire – pronounced ‘Björkshire’, named after the inhabitants’ tendency to wail incomprehensibly.
Staffordshire – This is an interesting one. OE ‘Staffa’ meaning ‘people of the big stick’, blended with ‘ford’ to cross a river or, as Julie Andrews would have it, a stream. And in this case, ‘shire’ not as in county or land, but massive horses. And so we get ‘Staffordshire’ – ‘people who drive massive horses across rivers with big sticks’. Eventually it became much more refined when they started making poetry.
Lincolnshire – named after the former American President who’d once visited in his youth and memorably bought an apple from a blind woman. The people of the formerly named ‘Flat Pigland Shire’ decided to rename their county because of the confusion caused by the ambiguity of their previous name. People got very angry when they visited and the pigs were round and portly.
Lancashire – ‘Land of the spindly people’. OE ‘lanc’ – tall and spindly. The flat cap was invented to stop overly spindly height growth – the caps were weighted originally with lead.
Lanarkshire – ‘Land of the those who betray secrets to the French’ coming from OF ‘la nark’ – a person who informs authorities about illegal activities. It has its origins in the time of the Jacobean revolts.
Suffolk – lit. the people who suffer from OE suffa – suffering or bladder infection + OE folk – people or followers or those that wear corduroy. Never ask a Suffolker how they are, unless you are prepared to hear all the symptoms. Saint Columba made this mistake and was stuck for fourteen years, which is why he eventually decided to build his monastery in Papua New Guinea.
Norfolk – originally ‘gnaw-folk’ – people who chew trees. The proficient felling ability of those that settled the marshlands of Norfolk led others to jokingly refer to them as beavers. This through time became ‘gnawers’ and ‘gnawing folk’ (e.g. 1184 Peterborough Chronicles ‘from whence to land of gnawing folk did Eowulf gambol’) And eventually, ‘Norfolk’ by the time of Pepys, who, along with burying his cheese during the Great Fire of London, also interred ‘a quart of finest Norfolk mustarde’.
Northamptonshire – ‘large pig of the north’. In his ‘Historia Ecclestica Gentis Anglorum’ the Venerable Bede related a tale akin to Heracles and the Erymanthian Boar, loosely translated here in Gregory Cliché’s 1885 edition: ‘Whence from the wood, did spake the huntsman “yon swine hath consuméd eight hunds” and the people were much afeared, crying “Who shalt rid us, Lord, of this fearsome beast?”’.
Nottinghamshire – Before the advent of the great art of twisting whimsical creatures for children’s parties out of balloons, entertainers would carry out the same process using the guts of pigs. There are many accounts of these ‘ham-knotters’ bringing joy and horror to medieval children as they manipulated bloodied entrails into a dachshund or lopsided giraffe. The land of Robin Hood was particularly famed for its ‘ham-knotters’, being the home of such legendary pig gut manipulators as Simon ‘bowel blooms’ de Bouvoir and Edward ‘swine weaver’ Corbett who, according to the Peterborough Chronicle, once recreated Noah’s Ark using the entrails of eighteen pigs for the delighted terror of a young Stephen of Blois (later King Stephen of England). From OE Knotta (to twist) + OE ham (pig).
Somerset – ‘seasonal abode of badgers’. The fifth century Saxon invaders conquered the land in late November, so were somewhat surprised when several thousand badgers in pashminas and open-necked pink shirts turned up in May, complaining that the Saxon crab baskets might scuff their yachts, and that their wattle houses were so passé. The neighbouring former County of Winterset was consumed by Gloucestershire when the early Saxon communities drove the badgers out, fearing they were demons come to steal the harvest.
Monmouthshire – ‘My Gob Land’, originally from the OF ‘monboucheshire’ to distance itself from the Francophile Welsh who’d become unpopular following the first series of ‘Allo Allo’ it gained the English word instead.
Cumbria – from the Celtic lit. ‘With melted cheese’ see ‘Cymru’ (with unpalatable bread). The Celts had the strange habit of not naming locations after their founders or interesting geographical points, but after their preferred lunch options.
Buckinghamshire – This county gathers its name from the inappropriate pastime of David Cameron’s ancestors, but has undergone a blush-saving consonant shift.
Greater Manchester – The original Manchester was pretty bloody awful so the comparative ‘greater’ isn’t necessarily a glowing report of the current county. The term ‘Manchester’ comes from OE ‘Man’ meaning man, and Lat. ‘Castra’ meaning fort. So, quite literally ‘man fort’. It is believed that the settlement had its origins as a haunt of clichéd midlife crisis experiencing men full of various sporting paraphernalia, ill-fitting leather jackets andtools whose function seem more ornamental rather than functional.
Antrim – This country is named as its shape is similar to that of the edge of an ant. Coastal erosion has meant that the inhabitants are very fortunate the county wasn’t named in the 21st century as Dungbeetlerim is somewhat less appealing.
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