People from Newcastle are Geordies, Liverpudlians are Scousers, and people from Nottinghamshire are Nottinghamians... or if you're on more familiar terms, boggers. But in Lincolnshire, we perhaps have the most fascinating nickname of all - Yellowbelly - and it's the one topic of debate where everyone seems to have a different opinion.
Even some of those born and raised in the county aren't entirely sure where the name originates, while newcomers might be completely bamboozled by the term and fear they've been branded a cowardly yellow-belly. The hyphen makes all the difference.
Professor Anna Marie Roos, professor of the history of science and medicine at the University of Lincoln, said the origin is disputed as it is folklore. Whilst there are prevailing theories on the nickname's origin, Ms Roos prefers not to favour one explanation over another.
Ms Roos said: "As the richness of folklore comes from its many layers and the retelling of the tale, I prefer it to be a mystery. It adds to the charm of the phrase and keeps you guessing"
The term has been used to celebrate some of Lincolnshire's finest food and drink, from Spalding's Yellowbelly Cider to Wainfleet brewery Batemans' Yella Belly Gold. The latter became the subject of a dispute in 2018 when Buxton Brewery brought out a similarly sounding Yellow Belly beer.
A Lincoln caterer adopted the name, the Yellowbelly Sausage Company, while Cote Hill Yellow made at Osgodby, near Market Rasen, is nicknamed Yellowbelly cheese due to its waxy yellow jacket.
Farmer Michael Davenport, whose family produces the cheese, is an honorary Yellowbelly who moved to Lincolnshire from Suffolk nearly 60 years ago. He said: "There are a lot of theories. I favour the agriculture ones like the long-haired sheep wandering through fields of mustard so they got yellow stomachs or anyone working in the fields, with pockets of yellow mud, wiping their hands across their bellies."
One of the popular theories dates from the 19th century, when soldiers from the Lincolnshire Regiment wore yellow waistcoats on the battlefields. This is often referred to as the most likely origin of the nickname.
Another explanation could be that people living in the fens, before they were drained, were struck down with a malaria-like illness from the stagnant water, which turned their skin yellow. Some believe it came about from the reflection of the corn on the bellies of farmworkers, who stripped to the waist during the heat of summer.
Lincoln-born public relations boss Liz Cartwright, who migrated across the border to Nottingham, favours the traditional explanation. She said: "Yellowbellies are called Yellowbellies because of the old Lincolnshire Regiment – they wore yellow waistcoats."
However, baker Linda Hewett, who lives amongst the county's wheat fields and windmills, said: "It’s been a regular debate. The majority of Lincolnshire folk opt for the Lincolnshire Regiment yellow connection.
"But for me, working in the food industry, and loving Lincolnshire’s famous tag of being the bread basket of England, I choose to believe Yellowbelly comes from the name given to cereal crop workers."
Some of the many theories from Lincolnshire County Council are quite feasible. However, there are some more bizarre:
- Mail coaches travelling between Lincoln and London in the 18th and 19th centuries were painted dark blue but had a yellow undercarriage so splash marks from the yellow clay roads didn't show.
The name came from the custom of Lincolnshire people hanging "belly" bacon for so long that it turned yellow.
A Lincolnshire farmer with an ugly 28-stone daughter offered would-be husbands a dowry of as many gold coins as it would take to cover her belly.
The yellow fenland mud coloured the bellies of poachers stalking their prey.
The fenland administrative Warpentake of Elloe was called in bygone times 'Ye Elloe Bellie' as 'bel' was German for low-lying. This became corrupted into Yellowbelly.
Many Lincolnshire countrywomen carried their money or gold under their dresses when going to market and were called Yellowbellies.
A Lincolnshire woman whose canary died replaced it with a frog with a yellow belly, in the belief that the frog would sing like the canary and said to it, "Now sing yellow belly."