Justin B Rye 1999–2015
(Real IPA edition)


The function of this page has changed since it was first created in the nineties.  Originally, it was a transcription of my accent into Kirshenbaum ASCII IPA, the 7‐bit encoding I was using as a substitute for raw phonetic symbols back in the days when web browsers couldn't be trusted to handle Unicode characters like ə and ʃ.  Now that (as of 2013) I no longer use ASCII IPA on any of my other pages, I have finally been able to retire it here too.

The part that's still applicable is that this page is intended to complement the rest of my site in two ways: for British non‐linguists it's a rough guide to phonemic transcription, while for non‐British linguists it's an introduction to my accent.  If you are already familiar with both the International Phonetic Alphabet and modern RP you're unlikely to find it very useful; and on the other hand if you don't know what I mean either by “O as in bother” or by “ɒ as in ˈbɒðə” then there's no convenient way I'm going to be able to get the leverage to explain either – or at any rate, not without knowing whether you're from Auckland, Kingston, or Chicago.

This page is fairly technical, but that can't be helped: attempts to explain details like this purely in terms of “hard TH” and “long A sounds” just spread confusion.  You may imagine that all I would need to do is add some audio examples; and indeed I may some day get round to doing that, but it's not a high priority, because the sad fact is that they wouldn't help much.  If you haven't been trained to listen, your ears wouldn't take in the unfamiliar features of my pronunciations any more than your eyes would be likely to notice a trivial typo you're not actively looking for – instead your mother‐tongue perceptual filters automatically reinterpret everything to fit the phonological categories you're used to.


Throughout this essay, example spellings and so forth are as usual marked out as follows… (The brackets won't be visible if your browser is ignoring my CSS.)

Orthodox spellings: angle‐bracketed like this
Phonemic transcriptions: IPA in slant‐brackets lɑɪk ðɪs
Phonetic details: IPA in square‐brackets lɑɪk ðɪs

And before I get started I'll need to explain some of the labels I'm sticking on things:

Of or pertaining to the precise articulatory and acoustic properties of speech sounds, irrespective of the way they're used in particular languages; for instance, the K in key is usually a palatalised and aspirated kʲʰ, phonetically quite different from the K in ask.
(Here I go again trying to define “phoneme” in a nutshell… compare the attempts on my Espe‐Ranto, Spelling Reform and Futurese pages)
Of or pertaining to phonemes, the sounds treated as basic units in a given lingo.  What the Ks in key, ask have in common is that both are forms of one English phoneme, k: the phonetic space between them is never used for telling English words apart (so English‐speakers learn to disregard it).  The difference between cod and god, on the other hand, is that the first begins with k and the second with a voiced g – a subtle phonetic distinction that English does recognise as phonemically significant.
The alphabet of the International Phonetic Association, providing a standard notation of symbols and diacritics for representing the sounds of human languages, either on a phonemic level or in phonetic close‐up.  Not to be confused with radiotelephony codes such as the so‐called “NATO Phonetic Alphabet” on the one hand or with India Pale Ale (and indeed IsoPropyl Alcohol) on the other.
“Received Pronunciation”, an accent better known perhaps as “BBC English”.  Like “General American” it is socially dominant as a standard “educated” accent; but unlike GA, RP is strongly associated with a particular region and social class, that of the southern English (upper‐)middle class.
As the son of a Church of England vicar, I myself am definitively middle‐class; I went to a primary school in rural Norfolk, then a public (i.e. private) secondary school in Norwich before coming to Edinburgh.  As a result my accent is fairly “posh”, though by no means up to Hollywood villain standards.  It has a few traceably East Anglian traits, and lacks several features becoming common in more southern areas; see the pronunciations of insolvencies, Norwich, quarter listed below.
Standard English
… Has nothing to do with this.  I'm not talking about “correct” grammar, or vocabulary, and certainly not spelling; I'm talking about accent, meaning how things are pronounced – you can quote Bob Marley or P. G. Wodehouse in any accent!
Standard labels for consonants, classifying them in terms of whether they are accompanied by vocal‐cord buzzing.  If you don't recognise this idea, clutch your throat and go “SSS‑ZZZ‐SSS‑ZZZ”!
Standard labels for consonants, classifying them in terms of the part of the mouth involved (teeth‐ridge, soft palate, or whatever).  These you probably can just pick up from the examples.
Standard labels for consonants, classifying them in terms of how thoroughly airflow is blocked.  During a plosive like “T”, no air can escape the mouth (until it's abruptly released); it scrapes through turbulently in fricatives like “F”; and approximants like “W” hardly impede the airflow at all.
Three kinds of special exception to the above.  Nasals are like plosives, but involve air escaping through the nose (“MMM”); affricates turn from plosive to fricative (“TCH”); and laterals involve airflow around the sides of a central blockage (“LLL”).
Standard labels for vowels, classifying them in terms of where in the mouth they are articulated; that is, whether the front or back of the tongue is held closer to the palate.  Again, you may never have noticed this; but say “AY‐OH‐AY‐OH” and pay attention to what your tongue's doing.
Standard labels for vowels, classifying them in terms of the gap between tongue and palate at its narrowest point – smallest in “close” vowels like “OOO” and greatest in “open” vowels like “AAH”.
Standard labels for vowels produced with or without lip‐rounding.  This distinction is obvious in vowels like “OOO‐EEE”, but trickier in the middle – Americans are likely to have trouble following my “AW sounds”.


JBR RP features the following supply of consonants and vowels, here listed in an order which is more or less “systematic” rather than quasi‐alphabetic.

b as in EBB, BIB
characteristically a voiced bilabial plosive
d as in ED, DID
characteristically a voiced alveolar plosive
characteristically a voiced postalveolar affricate (counts as one item)
g as in EGG, GAG
characteristically a voiced velar plosive
p as in UP, PIP
characteristically a voiceless bilabial plosive
t as in AT, TOT
characteristically a voiceless alveolar plosive
characteristically a voiceless postalveolar affricate (counts as one item)
k as in OAK, KICK
characteristically a voiceless velar plosive
v as in OF, VERVE
characteristically a voiced labiodental fricative
ð as in EITHER, THE
characteristically a voiced dental fricative (distinct from θ below)
z as in AS, ZOOS
characteristically a voiced alveolar fricative
characteristically a voiced postalveolar fricative
f as in IF, FIFE
characteristically an unvoiced labiodental fricative
characteristically an unvoiced dental fricative (distinct from ð above)
s as in US, SAUCE
characteristically an unvoiced alveolar fricative
ʃ as in ASH, SURE
characteristically an unvoiced postalveolar fricative
m as in AM, MUM
characteristically a voiced bilabial nasal
n as in AN, NUN
characteristically a voiced alveolar nasal
ŋ as in INK, HANGING
characteristically a voiced velar nasal
l as in ILL, LULL
characteristically a voiced alveolar lateral
r as in FRY, RAH‐RAH
characteristically a voiced alveolar approximant (not the US retroflex or the Scots rolled R; strictly speaking the phonetic symbol is ɹ)
w as in QUIT, WAH‐WAH
characteristically a voiced labiovelar approximant
j as in VIEW, YOYO
characteristically a voiced palatal approximant (not written y)
h as in HUE, HA‐HA
characteristically an unvoiced glottal approximant
ɪ as in IT, BID
characteristically a short close front unrounded vowel
ɛ as in EGG, BED
characteristically a short open‐mid front unrounded vowel
ə (“schwa”) as in UP, BUD
characteristically a short open central unrounded vowel
æ as in AT, BAD
characteristically a short open front unrounded vowel
ʊ as in HOOD, BULL
characteristically a short close back rounded vowel
ɒ as in ON, BOD
characteristically a short open back rounded vowel
ɪə as in HERE, BEARD
characteristically a glide from ɪ towards ə
ɛə as in HAIR, BARED
characteristically a glide from ɛ towards ə, or long hybrid vowel
ɜː as in HER, BIRD
characteristically a long open‐mid central unrounded vowel
ɑː as in HEART, BARD
characteristically a long open back unrounded vowel
ʊə as in MOOR, CURED – uncommon, often replaced by ɔː
characteristically a glide from ʊ towards ə, or long hybrid vowel
ɔː as in HAWK, BOARD
characteristically a long open‐mid back rounded vowel
as in HEAT, BE
characteristically a long close front unrounded vowel
ɛɪ as in HATE, BAY
characteristically a glide from ɛ towards ɪ
ɑɪ as in HEIGHT, BY
characteristically a glide from ɑ towards ɪ
ɔɪ as in HOIST, BOY
characteristically a glide from ɔ towards ɪ
æʊ as in HOUSE, BOUGH
characteristically a glide from æ towards ʊ
as in HOOT, BOO
characteristically a long close back rounded vowel
əʊ as in HOSE, BEAU
characteristically a glide from ə towards ʊ


My use of this weasel‐word signals that I'm ignoring some phonetic subtleties.  For example, while everyone more or less agrees on the prototypical phonetic realisation of t, there is some disagreement in specific contexts such as glottal.  Many US accents prescribe a “flapped D” there, and many UK accents use a “glottal stop”; JBR RP has a clearcut “T” in that particular context, but allows a glottalised t in a more limited family of words.
Phonetically Long
When I say something is stressed or long, that doesn't necessarily mean what you think.  Stressed vowels are loud and rather high‐pitched; long vowels are characterised by prolonged duration; but the difference between, say, mad and made isn't one of stress or length – the two are simply different vowels (mæd, mɛɪd).
Phonemically Long
That said, the length‐marker ː that forms part of the symbol for (e.g.) the phoneme ɔː does not mean that it always takes longer to say than (e.g.) the phoneme ɛ; only that length is one of its distinguishing features.  All other things being equal – as in the pair bought/bet – I take more time over the former; but other things very rarely are equal.
Complex and Compound Sounds
English has several other kinds of genuinely “long” sounds, including affricates like j (=) and diphthongs like oy (=ɔɪ).  A case could be made for splitting each of these into subcomponents, but at least for my own accent I find such analyses unnatural.
Conspicuously Absent
The typical pronunciations of the letters X and Q do not correspond to single phonemes (the sounds are transcribed as the sequences ks, kw).  Likewise, the sound of U as in unit is just “YOO” – j followed by  – and needs no separate sign of its own.
The difference between the adjective ABstract and the verb abSTRACT is shown in my transcriptions by ˈ marks before stressed syllables: ˈæbstrækt, æbˈstrækt.  Secondary stress (not as emphatic as the word's main stress, but stronger than neighbouring syllables) receives a preceding ˌ mark – thus CHAracteRIStically is ˌkærəktəˈrɪstɪkliː.
The symbol ə stands for three distinct sounds, each of which occurs in abundance, əˈbəndəns.  In phonetic terms, that's əˈbɐ̃ndn̩s; and for many accents it makes sense to consider the three forms as separate entities.  However, they don't seem to be used contrastively as phonemes in my own speech: the pronunciation of ə is always predictable from the surrounding context.  Accordingly, I am treating them as one phoneme, and standardising my phonemic notation here on the symbol for the neutral vowel known as the “schwa”.


Please remember that this is an attempt at a representative selection of accurately reported spoken forms, not a prescriptive guide to how English should be spoken.  These may be what I normally say, but I'm not denying the existence of alternatives (even in BBC English); when people pronounce “nuclear” as “noocular”, that's not the end of the world.

absorption əbˈzɔːbʃən
absurd əbˈsɜːd
accomplished əˈkəmplɪʃt UM, not OM
actually ˈæktʃəliː but not ˈækʃliː
advertisement ədˈvɜːtɪsmənt n.b. stress
albino ælˈbiːnəʊ
all ɔːl
almond ˈɑːmənd no l
alto ˈæltəʊ
ant ænt cf. aunt
anxious ˈæŋkʃəs
arctic ˈɑːktɪk artic is a lorry
aren't ɑːnt cf. aunt
Asia ˈɛɪʒə
asphalt ˈæʃfɛlt unjustifiably
associated əˈsəʊʃiːˌɛɪtɪd with a SH
association əˌsəʊsiːˈɛɪʃən n.b. only one SH
asthma ˈæsθmə cf. isthmus
aunt ɑːnt cf. taunt
bachelor ˈbætʃələ three syllables
bald bɔːld
balm bɑːm cf. bomb
band bænd
basically ˈbɛɪsɪkliː never four syllables
basil ˈbæzəl like the name
bath bɑːθ
beauty ˈbjuːtiː
been biːn same as bean
beret ˈbɛrɛɪ
beta ˈbiːtə same as beater
bilabial bɑɪˈlɛɪbiːəl
board bɔːd same as baud
bomb bɒm cf. balm
booth buːð like soothe
broom brʊm
buckling ˈbəklɪŋ a young buck
buckling ˈbəkəlɪŋ collapsing
buddhist ˈbʊdɪst not ˈbuːdɪst
bumblebee ˈbəmbəlˌbiː
buoy bɔɪ same as boy
burglar ˈbɜːglə no R
burial ˈbɛriːəl
businessman ˈbɪznɪsmən
butcher ˈbʊtʃə
caches ˈkæʃɪz
candidate ˈkændɪˌdɛɪt or ˈkændɪdət
caramel ˈkærəˌmɛl
careless ˈkɛələs
casualty ˈkæʒʊltiː
caught kɔːt cf. cot
cautious ˈkɔːʃəs cf. nauseous
celebratory ˌsɛliːˈbrɛɪtəriː
centenary sɛnˈtiːnəriː
centrifugal ˌsɛntrɪˈfjuːgəl not ‐ˈtrɪf‐
chance tʃɑːns
charade ʃəˈrɑːd
cheese tʃiːz
children ˈtʃʊldrən or ˈtʃɪldrən
choice tʃɔɪs
Chomsky ˈtʃɒmskiː not as Belorussian Хомскі
choral ˈkɔːrəl cf. coral
chorizo tʃɒˈriːsəʊ not tʃəˈrɪtsəʊ
chrysanthemum krɪˈsænθəməm
circumstances ˈsɜːkəmˌstɑːnsɪz
clanger ˈklæŋə
clangour ˈklæŋgə
clerk klɑːk AH not UR
cloth klɒθ
colonel ˈkɜːnəl
colour ˈkələ
comfortable ˈkəmftəbəl no OR
comma ˈkɒmə
congratulate kəŋˈgrætʃʊˌlɛɪt not kəŋˈgrædʒəˌlɛɪt
conjuror ˈkəndʒərə
controversy kənˈtrɒvəsiː n.b. stress
cooed kuːd cf. cud
coral ˈkɒrəl cf. choral
cot kɒt cf. caught
could kʊd cf. cooed
coupon ˈkuːpɒn
courgette kʊəˈʒɛt or kɔːˈʒɛt
court kɔːt same as caught
crass kræs cf. grass
crayon ˈkrɛɪɒn cf. mayonnaise
crescent ˈkrɛzənt rhymes with present
cud kəd cf. could
cumin ˈkəmɪn not ˈkjuːmən
cupboard ˈkəbəd
cure kjʊə or kjɔː
curry ˈkəriː
data ˈdɛɪtə
dearly ˈdɪəliː cf. really
deity ˈdɛɪətiː like gaiety
delicious dɪˈlɪʃəs
diamond ˈdɑɪəmənd three syllables
diarrhoea ˌdɑɪəˈriːə cf. dɑɪə rɪə
diphthong ˈdɪfθɒŋ not dip
do duː cf. due
docile ˈdəʊsɑɪl
doesn't ˈdəzənt
doll dɒl not like dole
dress drɛs
due djuː cf. do
dully ˈdəlliː cf. sully
during ˈdjʊərɪŋ or dʒɔːrɪŋ
dynasty ˈdɪnəstiː
ecosystem ˈiːkəʊˌsɪstəm eek!
Edinburgh ˈɛdɪnbərə or ˈɛdəmbrə
eighth ɛɪtθ
either ˈiːðə or ˈɑɪðə
electric ɪˈlɛktrɪk
English ˈɪŋglɪʃ
entire ɛnˈtɑɪə
ephemeral ɪˈfiːmərəl
equinox ˈɛkwɪˌnɒks
ether ˈiːθə cf. either
evolution ˌiːvəˈluːʃən
example ɛgˈzɑːmpəl
extraordinary ɛkˈstrɔːdɪnˌɛriː
face fɛɪs
falcon ˈfɔːlkən
false ˈfɔːls
February ˈfɛbrəriː or ˈfɛbruːˌɛriː
figure ˈfɪgə
financial fɑɪˈnænʃəl
finger ˈfɪŋgə cf. ginger
fleece fliːs
flourish ˈflərɪʃ
force fɔːs
forehead ˈfɔːhɛd
from frɒm reduces to frəm
fully ˈfʊliː cf. dully
gala ˈgɑːlə cf. parlour
garage ˈgærɪdʒ or ˈgærɑːdʒ
gibberish ˈdʒɪbərɪʃ “soft” G
gigabyte ˈgɪgəbɑɪt “hard” G
ginger ˈdʒɪndʒə cf. singer
Glasgow ˈglɑːzgəʊ
goat gəʊt
goose guːs
gradually ˈgrædʒəliː
grass grɑːs cf. crass
grocery ˈgrəʊsəriː
half‐mirrored ˌhɑːfˈmɪrəd
Hallowe'en ˌhæləʊˈiːn not hollow
halt hɔːlt
hanging ˈhæŋɪŋ no g
happiness ˈhæpɪnɛs cf. merriness
happy ˈhæpiː
herb hɜːb initial consonant
historic hɪsˈtɒrɪk initial consonant
hovercraft ˈhɒvəˌkrɑːft
huge hjuːdʒ
ideology ˌɑɪdiːˈɒlədʒiː
insolvencies ɪnˈsɒlvənˌsiːz
inter­administrative ˌɪntərədˈmɪnɪstrətɪv
inventory ˈɪnvəntriː infantry with a v
ion ˈɑɪɒn
IPA ˌɑɪpiːˈɛɪ
iron ˈɑɪən
isthmus ˈɪsθməs cf. asthma
jaguar ˈdʒægjuːə not as Spanish
jumped ˈdʒəmpt
jury ˈdʒʊəriː or ˈdʒɔːriː
kebab kɪˈbæb doner, not shish
Kirshenbaum ˈkɜːʃənˌbɔːm not as German
kit kɪt
labiovelar ˌlɛɪbiːəʊˈviːlə rhymes with tequila
laboratory ləˈbɒrətriː
language ˈlæŋgwɪdʒ
lather ˈlɑːðə
laugh lɑːf
lava ˈlɑːvə same as larva
lawyer ˈlɔɪə or (oddly) ˈlɔɪjə
leisure ˈlɛʒə
length lɛŋkθ or lɛŋθ
letter ˈlɛtə
lever ˈliːvə
library ˈlɑɪbriː two syllables
lichen ˈlɑɪkən same as liken
lieutenant lɛfˈtɛnənt army only!
Linux ˈlɪnəks
loch lɒh on loan from Scots
longitude ˈlɒŋgɪˌtjuːd yes, wrongly
lorry ˈlɒriː
lot lɒt
lure ljɔː
luxury yacht ˈləkʃəriːˌjɒt
machismo məˈtʃɪzməʊ
mall mɔːl
marry ˈmæriː
Mary ˈmɛəriː
mayonnaise ˌmɛɪəˈnɛɪz cf. crayon
mediaeval ˈmɛdiːˌiːvəl
merriness ˈmɛriːnɛs cf. happiness
merry ˈmɛriː
mischievous ˈmɪstʃəvəs not mischevious
miscible ˈmɪsɪbəl cf. below
missable ˈmɪsəbəl cf. above
missile ˈmɪsɑɪl
moustache məˈstɑːʃ
mouth mæʊð verb
mouth mæʊθ noun
mum məm
muslim ˈmʊzlɪm not mooselimb
mustn't ˈməsənt
nauseous ˈnɔːziːəs cf. cautious
neanderthal niːˈændəˌtɑːl no θ
near nɪə
necessary ˈnɛsəˌsɛriː
nephew ˈnɛfjuː never ˈnɛvjuː
Newcastle ˈnjuːkɑːsəl
newspaper ˈnjuːspɛɪpə
niche niːʃ like leash
nodule ˈnɒdjuːl
north nɔːθ
Norwich ˈnɒrɪdʒ like porridge
nubile ˈnjuːbɑɪl
nuclear ˈnjuːkliːə
nurse nɜːs
of ɒv reduces to əv, ə
often ˈɒfən
ogle ˈəʊgəl like mogul
ominous ˈɒmɪnəs
one wən same as won
onerous ˈəʊnərəs
ongoing ˈɒngəʊɪŋ jocularly ˈɒŋˌɔɪŋ
oral ˈɔːrəl same as aural
orange ˈɒrɪndʒ doesn't rhyme with silver
ordinary ˈɔːdɪnəriː or ˈɔːdnəriː
oregano ˌɒrɪˈgɑːnəʊ rhymes with Arno
palm pɑːm
paprika pəˈpriːkə rhymes with Eureka
parlour ˈpɑːlə cf. gala
pasta ˈpæstə
patriot ˈpɛɪtriːət
patronise ˈpɛɪtrəˌnɑɪz
pen pɛn
perpetual ˌpɜːˈpɛtʃuːəl
phoneme ˈfəʊniːm not like phone me
phonemic fəˈnɛmɪk like academic
pidgin ˈpɪdʒɪn
pin pɪn
plosive ˈpləʊzɪv less often ˈpləʊsɪv
Polynesia ˌpɒliːˈniːʒə or ˌpɒliːˈniːziːə
poor pɔː not usually pʊə
pore pɔː same as paw
postalveolar ˌpəʊstælˈviːələ
potato pəˈtɛɪtəʊ nobody says poTAHto
pour pɔː like the rest!
preferably ˈprɛfrəbliː
premiere ˈprɛmiːɛə
prestigious prəˈstɪdʒəs
pretty ˈprɪtiː
price prɑɪs
primarily prɑɪˈmɛrɪliː n.b. stress
privacy ˈprɪvəsiː not PRY
process ˈprəʊsɛs
project ˈprɒdʒɛkt noun
pronunciation prəˌnənsiːˈɛɪʃən not pronounciation
puncture ˈpəŋktʃə
pursuit pəˈsjuːt
put pʊt cf. putt
putt pət cf. put
pyjamas pɪˈdʒɑːməz
quagmire ˈkwɒgmɑɪə
quarter ˈkɔːtə no w
question ˈkwɛstʃən
questionnaire kwɛstʃəˈnɛə
queue kjuː
raspberry ˈrɑːzbriː
real ˈriːəl same as reel
really ˈriːəliː cf. steely
restaurant ˈrɛstəˌrɒnt or ˈrɛstrənt
rhythm ˈrɪðəm
room rʊm not ruːm
route ruːt root not rout
salmon ˈsæmən no l
sausage ˈsɒsɪdʒ
says sɛz
scallop ˈskæləp like gallop
scarce skɛəs
schedule ˈʃɛdjuːl
schwa ʃwɑː
scone skɒn ON, not OHN
scythed sɑɪðd
sentient ˈsɛnʃiːənt or ˈsɛnʃənt
shared ʃɛəd very like shed
shone ʃɒn ON, not OHN
shore ʃɔː same as Shaw
simultaneous ˌsɪməlˈtɛɪniːəs
singer ˈsɪŋə cf. finger
situation ˌsɪtʃuːˈɛɪʃən
sixths sɪksθs
software ˈsɒftwɛə
solder ˈsəʊldə
soldier ˈsəʊldʒə cf. above
source sɔːs same as sauce
species ˈspiːʃiːz
square skwɛə
squirrel ˈskwɪrəl two syllables
start stɑːt
status ˈstɛɪtəs
steely ˈstiːliː cf. dearly
story ˈstɔːriː
strut strət
strychnine ˈstrɪkniːn
succinct səkˈsɪŋkt
suet ˈsuːɪt
suggest səˈdʒɛst no g
suit suːt
sully ˈsəliː cf. fully
taunt tɔːnt cf. aunt
taxes ˈtæksɪz cf. taxis
taxis ˈtæksiːz cf. taxes
than ðæn or unstressed ðən
theatre ˈθiːətə
then ðɛn or unstressed ðən
thither ˈðɪðə twice ð
thorough ˈθərə
thought θɔːt
tomato təˈmɑːtəʊ
tongue təŋ
topically ˈtɒpɪkəliː always four syllables
tortoise ˈtɔːtəs like porpoise
tourniquet ˈtɔːnɪˌkɛɪ no final t
toward təˈwɔːd
trap træp
trauma ˈtrɔːmə not ˈtræʊmə
truer ˈtruːə
tune tjuːn
turmeric ˈtɜːmərɪk not ˈtjuːmərɪk
used juːzd i.e. “utilised”
used juːst i.e. “was accustomed”
uvula ˈjuːvjʊlə and likewise uvular
vacation vɛɪˈkɛɪʃən
valid ˈvælɪd
valleyed ˈvæliːd
vase vɑːz
vehicle ˈviːɪkəl no h
version ˈvɜːʃən
virgin ˈvɜːdʒɪn
vitamin ˈvɪtəmɪn
voltage ˈvəʊltɪdʒ
voluntarily ˌvɒlənˈtɛrɪliː
walk wɔːk
warrior ˈwɒriːə cf. worrier
wash wɒʃ like posh
Wednesday ˈwɛnzdɛɪ
were wɜː reduces to
we're wɪə – cf. were, where
where wɛə likewise there
whine wɑɪn same as wine
width wɪtθ
with wɪð
worrier ˈwəriːə cf. warrior
wrongly ˈrɒŋliː
xylophone ˈzɑɪləˌfəʊn
yoghurt ˈjɒgət
your jɔː same as yaw
you're jɔː or jʊə
youths juːðz
zebra ˈziːbrə less often ˈzɛbrə
zoology zuːˈɒlədʒiː


Some full‐length case‐studies – they may not be phrases that come up frequently in conversation, but all of them have been used before, and “The North Wind and the Sun” often turns up as a sample text in comparative studies.  In each case, I am speaking with normal levels of emphasis at ordinary conversational speeds.

With tenure, Suzie'd have all the more leisure for yachting, but her publications are no good.
wɪð ˈtɛnjə ˈsuːˌziːd hæv ɔːl ð mɔː ˈlɛʒə fə ˈjɒtɪŋ bət hɜː ˌpəblɪˈkɛɪʃənz ə nəʊ gʊd

For certain US accents and phonological analyses, that's a “quick brown fox” sentence, providing a full inventory of phonemes; for me, even if we ignore the somewhat marginal ʊə, it would require the addition of air thigh rear chow joy.  Eventually I found myself a perfect JBR‐RP pangram, with exactly one use of each phoneme in my inventory:

Are those shy Eurasian footwear, cowboy chaps, or jolly earthmoving headgear?
ɑː  ð əʊ z  ʃ ɑɪ  j ʊə ˈr ɛɪ ʒ ə n  ˈf ʊ t w ɛə  ˈk æʊ b ɔɪ  tʃ æ p s  ɔː  ˈdʒ ɒ l iː  ˈɜː θ ˌm uː v ɪ ŋ  ˈh ɛ d g ɪə

Yes, I know there are far too many Rs in that for it to work for all you rhotic types!  Honestly, for me there's only one – I've increased the spaces between segments to make it easier if you want to double‐check.  Now for some less elaborately contrived example sentences:

Bother, father caught hot coffee in the carpark
ˈbɒðə ˈfɑːðə kɔːt hɒt ˈkɒfiː ɪn ðə ˈkɑːˌpɑːk

I teach Ferdinand the calm cat to fetch cold cups of coffee.  Who knows more about tasting things?  He's used the book.
ɑɪ tiːtʃ ˈfɜːdɪˌnænd ðə kɑːm kæt tə fɛtʃ kəʊld kəps əv ˈkɒfiː   huː nəʊz mɔːr əbæʊt ˈtɛɪstɪŋ θɪŋz   hiːz juːzd ðə bʊk

The North Wind and the Sun were disputing which was the stronger, when a traveller came along wrapped in a warm cloak.  They agreed that the one who first succeeded in making the traveller take his cloak off should be considered stronger than the other.
Then the North Wind blew as hard as he could, but the more he blew the more closely did the traveller fold his cloak around him, and at last the North Wind gave up the attempt; then the Sun shone out warmly, and immediately the traveller took off his cloak.
And so the North Wind was obliged to confess that the Sun was the stronger of the two.
ðə nɔːθ wɪnd ən ðə sən wə dɪsˈpjuːtɪŋ wɪtʃ wəz ðə ˈstrɒŋgə wɛn ə ˈtrævlə kɛɪm əˈlɒŋ ræpt ɪn ə wɔːm kləʊk   ðɛɪ əˈgriːd ðət ðə wən huː fɜːs səkˈsiːdɪd ɪn ˈmɛɪkɪŋ ðə ˈtrævlə tɛɪk ɪz kləʊk ɒf ʃʊb biː kənˈsɪdəd ˈstrɒŋgə ðən ðiː ˈəðə
ðɛn ðə nɔːθ wɪnd bluː əz hɑːd z iː kʊd bət ðə mɔːr iː bluː ðə mɔː ˈkləʊsliː dɪd ðə ˈtrævlə fəʊld hɪz kləʊk əˈræʊnd hɪm   ən ət lɑːs ðə nɔːθ wɪnd gɛɪv əp ðj əˈtɛmp   ðɛn ðə sən ʃɒn æʊt ˈwɔːmliː ən ɪˈmiːdʒətliː ðə ˈtrævlə tʊk ɒf ɪz kləʊk
ən səʊ ðə nɔːθ wɪnd wəz əˈblɑɪdʒ tə kənˈfɛs ðət ðə sən wəz ðə ˈstrɒŋgr əv ðə tuː


Recently, the people who write to me asking for audio versions have also started insisting I should answer the following list of questions, which apparently are part of a YouTube fad for amateur dialectology.

What is it called when you throw toilet paper on a house?
A “psychotic break”.  Or are you implying this is something sane people have been known to do?
What is the bug that when you touch it, it curls into a ball?
That's not a bug, it's a feature!  Presumably you're thinking of woodlice, or maybe pill millipedes; but those aren't even insects, let alone specifically bugs.
What is the bubbly carbonated drink called?
What, you only have one in your country?  Over here they're called by their names, which we arrange to have conveniently printed on the packaging, and the nearest thing to a generic term is “fizzy drink”.
What do you call gym shoes?
Either “plimsolls” (as worn by schoolchildren doing PE) or “trainers” (as worn by people who never go near a gym).
What do you say to address a group of people?
I say “hello!”, but I suspect what you meant to ask is what pronoun I use to refer to a group of people while I'm talking to them.  That's “you”, that is.
What do you call the kind of spider that has an oval‐shaped body and extremely long legs?
Well, you're closer!  Harvestmen aren't spiders, but at least they're arachnids.  Unless you mean spider crabs.
What do you call your grandparents?
Is this another identify‐the‐species round, or do you want to know how I addressed my individual grandparents before they went extinct?  If it's the latter, “Granma” and “Grandad”.
What do you call the wheeled contraption in which you carry groceries at the supermarket?
At first I assumed you meant “shopping trolley”, but if I wasn't putting my groceries in a basket, I wouldn't claim to be carrying them, so the solution to your riddle must be “mobility scooter”.
What do you call it when rain falls while the sun is shining?
The only word I know for drizzly but incompletely overcast weather is “summer”!  Do you call it “time to add another layer of toilet paper to the roof” or something?  Come to think of it, maybe this is another trick question – rain always falls (if it isn't falling, we don't call it rain), and the sun won't stop shining for aeons.
What is the thing you change the TV channel with?
I remember the days when it used to be “the dial”.  Then it was “a channel button”, then “whatever you call that remote controller thing, wherever it's gone”, then “no, the other remote, the one for the set‐top thingy”, but now if there was ever any telly I wanted to watch it would be “the mouse”.

You may have gathered that I'm not hugely impressed by these questions.  I grew up surrounded by people who spoke a genuinely obscure rural English dialect – one that gets so little media exposure that I can't think of a single celebrity or well‐known fictional character that I could suggest as an example of a Norfolk accent (or even of the dilute version common in Norwich).  But there's only one question in this survey that would be answered interestingly by the broadest of East Anglian regional dialect speakers: that toype o' creepy‐crawly wut cull up in a ball, thass a “chaarleypig”.