This paper reflects on ‘standards’ in Canadian English in scholarly research and the public debate about English in Canada from a number of viewpoints. The goals of these reflections are three-fold. First, I aim to characterize the chasm between scholarly and public debates about a language ‘standard’ in Canadian English (CanE). While this debate is not new (e.g. Kretzschmar, 2009: 1–5 for a recent example), its application in the Canadian context is a desideratum. Second, I aim to characterize the standard in CanE from a demographic point of view: what is this standard and, above all, which Canadians (and, more importantly, how many) presently speak it? And third, what can linguists who research Canadian English offer to the public, and how can the perceived gap in knowledge be bridged?

The global expansion of the use of English throughout the last decade has had significant implications for its instruction around the world. Among the issues that have arisen as a result of this expansion has been the selection of appropriate phonological models in the English language classroom. Specifically this particular issue has hinged on the question of whether it is more appropriate to encourage English language learners to strive towards the goal of a particular native variety of English pronunciation, or to promote an alternative target. This question has provoked much discussion, and has been the subject of occasionally heated debate (e.g. Jenkins, 1998, 2000; Scheuer, 2005, 2008; Seidlhofer & Jenkins, 2003).

This article serves as a commentary on the current position of ‘Standard English’ in the Shetland Islands, the northernmost part of the British Isles. Experience gained during linguistic fieldwork over a ten-year period suggests that there is a need to re-examine this issue, not least in view of societal changes. It will be argued that Shetland is by now a locality of relevance for those with an interest in standards of English, as well as Scots, and suggestions will also be made regarding potential future directions for research into Shetland English.

No matter where you are in the world, English seems to have its own way of cropping up, and the Gulf is no exception. Drive through the Omani–Emirati border crossing at Mazyad and a sign on the Emirati side announces, ‘Helping support AIDS’. Turn on KTV2, a state-run television channel broadcast out of Kuwait, and an English subtitle reads, ‘May God give you long life’; scan the headlines of the Gulf News and read, ‘Emiratisation is vital for the country’; eavesdrop on an expatriate Indian family ordering lunch in the food court at the Muscat City Centre mall and hear, ‘Give me the biriyani chicken’, ‘Give me the thali set’; follow a Bahraini Twitter tweeter and read, ‘say the truth don't fabricate BHR’.

In the case of the status of English in Hong Kong, most ‘new Englishes’ classification schemes have been either controversial or inconclusive. Dynamic models seem to be more promising, and these predict two things. First, a trend of ‘linguistic schizophrenia’, where people are exonormative in ideal – holding to the ideals of native speaker English – but endonormative in practice – in actual fact, speaking their own local variety. Second, the future ongoing development and eventual acceptance of the new variety. This article aims to shed more light on some of the complexities surrounding the issue of the status of English in Hong Kong. It undertakes an analysis of the attitudes of local English speakers towards the existence and nature of their own variety, perceptions of their own linguistic behaviour, and attitudes towards norms. The significance of the findings is evaluated in the light of dynamic models postulated by Kachru (1983) and Schneider (2003, 2007). The Hong Kong data present a classic case of Kachru's ‘linguistic schizophrenia’, and confirm the placement of Hong Kong English at the beginning of Schneider's Phase 3 of nativization. The future possibilities for the variety are also discussed.

In November 2009, Principal Thomas Murray banned the word meep from Danvers High School, located outside of Boston (Netter, 2009). Parents and students received automated e-mails and calls with a warning that saying or displaying the word meep would entail suspension. Students had ignored requests from teachers and administrators to stop, leading to the school-wide ban. This story contains entertaining elements: an overzealous principal who forwarded emails containing meep to the police; references to the meeping Muppet, Beaker; students sporting ‘FREE MEEP’ t-shirts; and Facebook-coordinated meepings. Referring to meep, Danvers High School student Mike Spiewak commented: ‘I think it's unfair that they banned a word that's not even a real word’ (Raz, 2009). According to Melanie Crane, another Danvers student, meep ‘doesn't mean anything in particular’ (Netter, 2009). As a result, its ambiguity allows for countless definitions. The authoritative source in defining the term throughout news coverage of the Danvers incident has been Urbandictionary.com, an online and open-source dictionary for slang and subculture terminology. For those of you who have never meeped, the primary Urban Dictionary (UD) entry deems it ‘the most versatile word in the English language [which] can mean whatever you want it to mean.’ UD lists 93 other definitions for the word, the most popular being.

If you met me and listened to me speaking English, you might ask yourself why I talk so funny; why I can't find the right words; and why I make so many grammatical errors. I am, after all, the Professor of English Linguistics at the University of Lausanne in Switzerland, and I have degrees in English language and linguistics from Cambridge University and the University of Pennsylvania.

If you look through a modern guide to English usage, you will probably find that it has something to say about phrasal verbs. It might be a warning not to use certain phrasal verbs in certain contexts. For example, Allen (2005: 181–90) offers a table of ‘more formal alternatives to those phrasal verbs that can sometimes be too informal for writing’, with suggestions for replacing sum up with conclude and step down with resign, among others. In many cases, it will be a warning about phrasal verbs where the adverbial particle adds little semantic content to the verb: The Chicago Manual of Style advises writers to ‘avoid the phrasal verb if the verb alone conveys essentially the same meaning – e.g. rest up is equivalent to rest’ (2003: 174). It might attribute such usages to American English, as in Evans' (2000: 54–5) comment that phrasal verbs such as win out, stop off and check up on, which ‘grow like toadstools’, are ‘American parasites’. It might be a positive comment, such as Bryson's note that phrasal verbs are ‘one of the most versatile features of English’, but if so, it will probably be qualified: Bryson adds that in many cases the added particles ‘are merely a sign of careless writing’ (Bryson, 2002: 156–7). What is it about phrasal verbs that provokes such comments? By examining grammars, usage books, dictionaries and other materials since the eighteenth century, I will discuss changing attitudes towards phrasal verbs and how they fit into the context of broader opinions about language.

The post-World War II emergence of the linguistic phenomenon called ‘World English’ has given rise to seemingly endless discussion and much speculation among scholars and the lay public alike. The topics of discussion range from horrified exclamations at the mysterious apparition (like Horatio's ‘Look my Lord it comes! It beckons you to go with it, as if it some impartment did desire’, in Shakespeare's Hamlet), to what exactly we should call it or how at all should we otherwise identify it or make it identify itself (as in ‘Stay, speak, speak, I charge thee speak!’) and, finally to an attitude of familiarity breeding – for a change – conviviality and comfort (as in the somewhat resigned ‘Custom hath made it in him a property of easiness’).

Roughly 90,000 taxi drivers in Beijing learned English in preparation for the Summer Olympic Games (Beijing 2008) of some 600,000 total residents of the city that have jumped on the English bandwagon in the past few years (People's Daily, 2001). China is a country of nearly a billion and a half people, most of whom now begin learning English at the age of ten (Dong, 2005: 11). A simple Google search for ‘English in China’ yields more than 36,000,000 results! It cannot be argued that English is unpopular in the Middle Kingdom. With so many learners there, it stands to reason that a variety of English peculiar to China would eventually develop, and there is much evidence to suggest that it has already begun.

Every now and again a call goes up for the reform of English orthography to make it more user-friendly. After all, it is said, the Spanish, the Germans, and even the French, have accepted changes to their spelling systems. By way of comparison, we could think of the suggestion that the Greeks should abandon their alphabet and adopt the Roman one, to come into line with most other European countries. Thankfully, there seems no serious possibility that this will happen. The reasons against it are solidly linguistic and not ones prompted by blind tradition. The same sorts of reasons should prevail for English. The Greek case, though, can provide some lessons. For there have, in fact, been changes to Greek orthography in recent times. An important one was in 1982, when the variety of diacritic signs was reduced to a single accent.