What Is the Slang Word for Cool in London? Top Terms Used Today

Ask a Londoner what’s cool, and they won’t say “cool.” Not anymore. Not really. The word “cool” is everywhere, sure - on billboards, in ads, in American TV shows - but if you’re standing on a street corner in East London and someone says something’s “sound,” they’re not just agreeing with you. They’re speaking the local language. And if you don’t know what that means, you’re missing half the conversation.

Sound: The Most Common London Word for Cool

If you hear one word in London that means “cool,” it’s sound. It’s not flashy. It doesn’t shout. It just works. You say, “That new sneaker drop is sound,” and everyone gets it. No explanation needed. It’s used by teens, young professionals, delivery drivers, and even some older folks who’ve lived here long enough to pick it up.

It didn’t start in the West End. Sound came from South London’s Afro-Caribbean communities in the 1980s, rooted in Jamaican Patois. It spread through reggae, dancehall, and later, grime music. Now, 73% of Londoners recognize it, according to a 2023 Linguistic Society of America survey. In Kensington and Chelsea, 82% of people use it. In Newham? Almost as many. It’s the closest thing London has to a universal slang word for “cool.”

But here’s the catch: if you’re not from here, you might overuse it. Non-locals often say “sound” in every sentence - “That coffee’s sound,” “Your jacket’s sound,” “The Tube’s sound.” It sounds forced. Locals use it sparingly, mostly when something genuinely impresses them. Saying “sound” too much makes you sound like a tourist trying too hard.

Peng: The East London Word That Made It to the Dictionary

Then there’s peng. It’s not just slang - it’s official. The Oxford English Dictionary added it in 2022 after it exploded in popularity through grime artists like Stormzy. “That girl’s peng,” “That track’s peng,” “This hoodie’s peng.” It means attractive, excellent, or just really good.

It came out of Hackney, specifically from young Black British kids in the mid-2000s. It wasn’t just about looks - it was about vibe. A car could be peng. A beat could be peng. A whole night out could be peng. Today, 68% of people in Lambeth use it regularly. It’s less common in North or West London, but if you hear it on a bus in East London, you’re hearing the real thing.

Don’t confuse it with “pretty.” Peng isn’t about being conventionally attractive. It’s about presence. A hoodie with ripped sleeves and a faded logo? Peng. A guy who walks into a shop and gets a nod from everyone? Peng. It’s cultural confidence wrapped in one syllable.

Reem: The Essex Import That Took Over East London

Reem (sometimes spelled “reems”) sounds like it came from a cartoon. But it’s real. It started in Essex - think reality TV shows like The Only Way Is Essex - but it got picked up hard in East London. Now, in Tower Hamlets and Newham, 76% of 16- to 24-year-olds use it.

It’s simple: “That’s reem.” Means “That’s good.” “That’s cool.” “That’s nice.” It’s not as strong as “peng,” but it’s more casual. You use it when you’re not trying to impress. “Your phone case is reem,” “This bus is reem,” “The queue’s reem.” It’s the slang equivalent of a shrug with a smile.

Here’s the twist: outside Greater London, almost no one says “reem.” Only 8% of people in the rest of the UK use it. That makes it one of the most geographically locked slang terms in Britain. If you hear someone say “reem,” they’re either from East London, Essex, or they’ve been here long enough to adopt it. It’s a badge.

Minging: The Word That Got Reversed

This one trips people up. Minging used to mean ugly, gross, or disgusting. A minger was someone you wouldn’t date. A minging sandwich was one you’d throw out. But in parts of South London - especially among teens - it flipped. Now, you’ll hear: “That party was minging,” meaning it was insane, wild, lit.

It’s a classic example of semantic reversal - when a negative word becomes positive through irony. Dr. Eleanor Mills from UCL found that 31% of South London teens use it this way. It’s not universal. If you say “that’s minging” to someone over 30, they’ll think you’re calling it awful. But in certain circles - especially around street parties, music events, or youth clubs - it’s a compliment.

Don’t use it unless you’re sure of your audience. It’s the riskiest term on this list. One wrong context, and you’ve insulted someone’s outfit, their music, or their whole vibe.

Bare: The Adverb That Changes Everything

You won’t find “bare” in the dictionary as a synonym for “cool,” but it’s everywhere in London speech. It doesn’t mean “cool” by itself. It means “very.”

So when someone says “bare cool,” they’re not saying “cool.” They’re saying “extremely cool.” “That beat’s bare cool.” “My new trainers are bare nice.” “This rain is bare rubbish.”

It comes from Jamaican Patois, like “sound.” And it’s used by 61% of Londoners under 30, according to the British Library. It’s not just slang - it’s grammar. It’s how Londoners intensify everything. “Good” becomes “bare good.” “Bad” becomes “bare bad.” Even “boring” becomes “bare boring.”

If you’re trying to sound like a local, drop “really” and start saying “bare.” It’s subtle, but it works.

Gassed: The Newcomer Taking Over Social Media

A few years ago, “gassed” meant drunk. Now? It means thrilled, hyped, excited. “I got the concert tickets - I’m gassed.” “That new Nike collab? I’m gassed.”

It came from London’s drill music scene, where artists like Headie One and Central Cee used it to describe hype moments. A 2023 King’s College London study found it in 28% of social media posts from London teens. And it’s spreading fast. Tottenham Hotspur players started using it in interviews in 2024, and usage jumped 210% in the next six months.

It’s not as old as “sound” or “peng,” but it’s becoming the go-to word for excitement. Think of it as the British version of “lit” or “fire.” But it’s got its own rhythm - short, punchy, emotional.

What’s Not Used Anymore (And Why)

You might still hear older Londoners say “ace,” “cracking,” or “brill.” But they’re fading. “Ace” is used by only 29% of under-30s. “Cracking” is more common in Wales than in London. “Brill” (short for brilliant) is now used by just 9% of young Londoners.

Why? Because slang moves fast. And London moves faster. The average lifespan of a slang term here is 2.3 years. That’s half the time it lasts in Manchester or Glasgow. If you learned “brill” from your grandad, you’re speaking a dialect that’s already half-dead.

How to Learn It Without Sounding Like a Tourist

You don’t need to memorize a list. You need to listen.

Start with BBC Radio 1Xtra - it’s the heartbeat of London youth culture. Listen to grime artists like Skepta, Dave, or Little Simz. Watch TikTok creators like @SlangDoctor. They break down terms like “peng” and “reem” in under 60 seconds.

Don’t try to use every word. Pick one or two. Use “sound” in casual settings. Use “peng” when you’re genuinely impressed. Say “bare” before adjectives. Avoid “minging” unless you’re 100% sure.

And never force it. Locals can tell when someone’s trying too hard. Slang isn’t a costume. It’s a habit. The more you hear it, the more it slips into your own voice - naturally.

Why This Matters

Slang isn’t just about words. It’s about belonging. In a city as diverse as London, slang is the glue. It’s how people from different backgrounds - Nigerian, Jamaican, Polish, Bangladeshi - find common ground. “Sound” isn’t just a word. It’s a shared understanding. A cultural handshake.

Tourists get confused. Students struggle. Even some Brits from outside London don’t get it. But if you understand “sound,” “peng,” and “reem,” you’re not just learning vocabulary. You’re learning how London talks to itself.

And that’s worth more than any phrasebook.