How Buffalo Can You Go?

Ok, so we're right in the middle of the exam period. The bad news is that this means there'll not be many posts for a while. The good news is that I've come up with something to take your mind off of revision for a few minutes!

What I have for you today is a sentence. There's nothing particularly special about it, because it's grammatically correct, yet unpunctuated. Normally, a sentence which just works is nothing to fuss over. Then again, most sentences don't read like this...

"Buffalo buffulo Buffalo buffalo bufflo buffalo Buffalo buffalo"

Yes, ladies and gents, this sentence actually works. Once you get into the nitty gritty, it's not hard to see why, either. So, without waiting around, let's nit and grit our way to an explanation.

What we have here is a simple trick using homonyms. Essentially, a homonym is a word with various unrelated meanings attached, each spelt and pronounced in exactly the same way. For example, "fluke" can mean part of an anchor, the fins of a whale, or a stroke of luck. They don't have to have the same origins in meaning (although I suspect the whale fins and anchor do - both are nautical terms and look similar, so it makes sense), the important thing is the identical end result.

The word "buffalo", then, has more meanings than we might have thought at a first glance. The first thing most of us think of is the big, bison-like creature found predominantly in America. That's one of the main uses here, true, but it's not the only one. There's hundreds of towns called "Buffalo" all over America, too, and that's a meaning in our sentence. It's also a colloquial alternative to "bully". That means we have a noun, proper noun, and verb with the same spelling - everything we need for our homonym sentence!

The parse tree to the right (yes, I'm using pictures now!) sets this out pretty clearly, or at least as clearly as anyone can, and shows how everything fits together to make a complete sentence - "S". But we might still be in the dark as to what the sentence actually means! Allow me to try and deconstruct...

"Buffalo (the animal) from the town of Buffalo, who other buffalo (the animal) from the town of Buffalo bully (or "buffalo"), also bullies buffalo from the town of buffalo."

I'll give you a minute or two to get your head around that one? Got it? Good. It's a bit tricky, but the meaning isn't the most important bit, really. All this does is give us a nice little exercise in how coincidental language development gives us such strange formulae as this. I doubt you'll ever need to worry about coming across one in the real world, mind, unless your the sort who feels like picking on huge horned animals. If you are, I doubt you'll live to tell anyone you buffaloed a buffalo from Buffalo...

TTFN, and good luck with the exams!

The Wordy Wookie's Election Special!

I know, yes, I'm joining in! It might be a little behind, but let me present my belatedly bloated Election Special of an update! It's been impossible to hide from it for the past month, and it's certainly not finished yet. When it comes to politics, it seems that I've been pipped to the post in responding to all the major issues. Nonetheless, I'll keep digging to answer the question that's really been playing on everyone's minds...

Think about it: where does the word "Tory" come from?

I'll use "Tory" today, and I'll be talking about the Conservatives, the big blue party who came out on top of the election (just). It's a nickname they always seem to have had, but have you ever stopped to think about where it came from? To help understand the roots properly and dramatically, I say we work backwards on this one.

Carry yourself to the 17th century, where the interesting bit of etymology kicks off. In fact, it was the name of the party at that time. In 1689, the "Tories" came into being as a party, upholding the traditional authority of church and state, and called themselves as such until 1886, when they became the Conservatives. To call them the "Tories", then, is almost to mock their willingness to cling to older ideals - the idea that their policies haven't changed since 1689.

On becoming the name of a party, the word "Tory" spread in use, but that's not to say it wasn't already there. In 1679, James, the Duke of York, was excluded from succession to the throne, on account of being a Roman Catholic. Those who came to his defence, suggesting that he should still be allowed to become king, were known as "Tories". Should we pursue this thought any longer, we'll find ourselves wrapped up in the complicated world of who should have really been king or queen at any given time, and did it matter at all. Forget that, it's a transitional phase for "Tory". Instead, think more about the roots of the word. It certainly didn't come from nowhere, and we haven't quite gotten to the bottom of it all yet.

Calling James, Duke of York, a complete baddie purely for his religion would be wrong nowadays, but it's important to know that he liked the Irish. For most people, it doesn't make a lot of difference either way, but it really does here. At the time, it was highly unpopular to disagree with his exclusion, so the politicians of the time bandied around with all sorts of Irish-based insults to call his followers. Their lowest point in the whole affair was "bogtrotters", but they eventually came to "Tory". How?

Them being the root of all the namecalling, "Tory" comes from the Irish. It's actually the anglicised version of "tóraidhe", but much easier to spell. To our English eyes, it doesn't look like much of an insult, but in Gaelic it means "the pursued" or "pursuer", both of which are to be used with contextually hostile intent. Thus, we arrive at the common translation of the time: "outlaw". It would have been quite the Gaelic insult for the "Tories" of the time, but they don't seem to have paid much attention.

"Tories" have been on the run for nearly 400 years, it seems! I hope that's been a little insightful for you. The Conservative nickname certainly does have quite the history, and it's a good reminder as to why you should always know a little about etymology before you accept any nickname. It could well stick as well as this one. Only one question remains - will you be calling them "Conservatives" or "Tories" now? For the sake of editorial neutrality, I'm saying nothing.

On a purely unprofessional note, read the first word of every paragraph...

TTFN

Don't Forget to Flush Your Teeth

I need to be a little honest here. I may have gotten a little over-excited about the OED update. Maybe. That, though, was because they've been really good in the past. This time, however, it was all a little bit bland. By all means, have a look for yourself, but there was little of interest I could find.

The best of the lot was "generation Y", the kids born after so-called "generation X", which doubles up in meaning as "generation why", the ones who've got answers at their fingertips. Naturally, this lead me to ask what happens after "generation Z"... Do we start again? Do we use numbers? I say we should find a sponsor for each. We could start, in an age of sugary foods and obesity, with "generation M&M". Or not...

In order to clear this gloom and doom, I say we throw some light insults. More to the point, I say we clear up the strange and interesting background behind some. Ever heard someone described as "po-faced"? I have. Any idea what that actually means? Neither do I. Let's take a quick look...

There's a couple of explanations (as usual) various people have put forward to explain the origin of the puzzling bit here: "po". The first of these is the archaic little number "poh", pronounced how it looks. It means to reject something contemptuously, in other words telling someone to shove it with a look. Later in its life, it came to have the spelling "pooh", but I assure you it's got nothing to do with the bear, unless he finds anything particularly contemptible...

Alternatively, Lady Gaga could be onto something. There's every chance that "po" could simply be a contraction of "poker". Then again, there's a bit of a difference between a look of hatred and a blank expression, in my experience, so how could the two explain the same word? I'd say it all boils down to personal use of "po-faced" at this stage. Which ever face you consider to be "po" will determine its origin for you.

There is another option, though. Yes, history really has spoiled us this time. Perhaps the most logical root is the mediaeval word "po". It's the same spelling, and its meaning fits perfectly. What is it? Chamber pot. To be "po-faced", then, is to have a mug like a bog. It's plain, it's simple, and it's a damn fine insult. What's not to like?

I may be a tad biased here. Don't let my preferences stop you choosing any backstory you think best fitting. Even now, when you next call someone "po-faced", it could be the greatest testament to their stoic visage, or a bash at their potty-shaped ears. The choice, dear reader, is entirely yours. Stay po-faced when confronting the sceptics, and they'll run away pretty quickly.

TTFN.

It's Awwwright

Earlier today, I was asked about the origins of the word "O.K.", which I deemed to be no big deal. Think I'd had this one down for some time, I went into a very cocky spiel about how "O.K" way an abbreviation of an old president's nickname, which he used to sign documents presented to him. Thus, to "give something the O.K." would be to give it the president's signature, and give it the go ahead.

And that's that. Problem solved. Rather, that would have been problem solved, if curiosity and self-doubt hadn't gotten the better of me. I looked up "O.K" again, and lo and behold there were a ton of alternate roots. It turns out that nobody actually knows where it came from. It's a little embarrassing to have lost a word, but we're only human. Still, that hasn't stopped people guessing, and there are currently a handful of theories still supported by various academics. I'll leave it up to you to chose which one you prefer.

For our first theory, we can take a quick look at the Greek language, which is always a fun thing to do. In Greek, the phrase "Ola Kala" means "everything's ready", and some clever-clogs thinks they used the abbreviation of it. When it comes to explaining how "O.K." first became popular in America, not Greece, the reasoning goes that "O.K." was written on the side of seaworthy Greek ships or, if you prefer, that lots of Greek people worked on building railways in America. Strange, perhaps, but it stands.

Next up, there was a time in America when it was entertaining to deliberately misspell words, in some strange attempt to mock the illiterate. This was the 18th century, you understand, before they had telly. We all had to make our own entertainment back then. Here, it's claimed that "O.K" is the hilariously misspelled "Oll Korrect", or "All Correct". Hahahahaha. Anyway, that only allows the word to spread amongst the social elite, which would have had a big impact on its contagious use, which clearly didn't happen.

There are also those who say "O.K." is a word we've borrowed from another language, but even they can't agree with each other. The first group reckon it came from the Native American language Choctaw, and the specific word was "okeh". It's nice, but the pronunciation is a little off, and it's hard to see how it could have been so influential. For this one, I might just call coincidence (alright, I'm not going to leave you to your own opinions, I'm going to tag mine on too. Just deal with it).

The other lot who want to say "O.K." is a borrowed word generally go for African languages. Wolof and Bantu both have the word "waw-kay", and Mande uses "o ke". What with the slave trade and all (way to brush over history), these linguists think it's very likely these words would have made their way to America in this manner. Looking at how both they and the Native Americans can come up with similar word makes me suspicious though. If they can do it without relating the two, what's to say the American's didn't?

Lastly, we come back to the president. Martin Van Buren was known occasionally as "Old Kinderhook", and it did appear in slogans in public. See, it's more than just my bizarre little imagination that brought out that story. One guy who did a lot of research into "O.K.", Allen Walker Read, thought it stood up pretty well as a potential root. It helps to stay on the linguist's good side, y'know.

Ultimately, the two theories Read puts forward as most likely are the president's nickname and "Oll Korrect". He puts this downs to their meaning and documented usage, but he could still be wrong. It's anyone's guess, really. I like these two explanations, mind, because they account for "O.K." being an acronym, rather than just "okay". Otherwise, what do they stand for? Maybe it's a misspelling. Maybe I'm completely wrong. Only you can finish the story, dear reader, and do it as you will. It's all O.K. by me.

TTFN

Meet the Glocals

Ok, so this is a bit rushed. I'm sorry. Some time in the middle of March, the OED should be adding some new words to their beloved dictionary, which gets people like me incredibly excited. I realised last night that I'd never commented on their inclusions from December, as they do them quarterly. So, I give you the highlights of the OED's December 2009 update. Have fun!

Blogosphere - That's right, I'm now writing this in a space recognised by the OED. Huzzah! This is an example of how thorough usage of a new word has to be before it's entered actually. This little baby's been with us since ol' 1999. Mind you, it might be a little outdated already. I wonder if "Twitterati" will find its way in?

Adultescent - Funny looking word, innit? That's because it's adolescence, but for adults. It refers to someone who's kept their teenage interests going much longer than most people. Oftentimes, you'd expect these sorts might be in the pop music industry, or in orbit around that area. I can't help but feel, sadly, that this is a word invented so society can avoid saying "people who need to grow up a bit". Not that the adultescents will notice, though, they're probably still in bed.

Conspiratorialist - So, how long did it take you to work out this was an American word? It's pretty much the same thing as a conspiracy theorist, except it sounds much more like a member of a cult, or something Bush would say. Actually, I've been noticing that with a lot of American nouns recently. Maybe it's worth looking into... maybe it's government mind control...

Glocalization - Now, this is an odd word. It means making something global and local. Doesn't make sense? I know, it confused me a bit, too. It's turning a world wide issue into a personal one. Example: "Climate change is destroying the ice caps!" could become "In 20 years, polar bears will live in your fridge!" See? Suddenly, it's a bit more pressing.

Taxflation - Yeah, there was always going to be one about money, wasn't there? It's all to do with paying more taxes as inflation makes you richer (remember the old days?). For such a serious matter, a word based on a play on sound ("taxflation" = "taxation") seems a little light-hearted to me. It's almost as if those people who play with money for a living are a tad careless...

Apartotel - Another one of these blended words. Place your bets on what it's a mix of! That's right, "apartment" and "hotel". In essence, a hotel room with self service, like an apartment. Interestingly enough, it started off life as a brand in Spain. It's a good bit of marketing, getting the name of the thing you deal in used as an everyday word.

-zilla - I've saved the best until last here. "-zilla" is a suffix, so you can use it at the end of most nouns, and make 'em mean something gargantuan, and comically over-sized, like what Godzilla was. The best example from the OED was a "thespzilla", an actor (thespian), so dominant and overbearing as to look stupid. "Bridezilla", by the way, even got a separate entry as its own word. I'll leave you to mull.

So these are some of the new words that entered the great compendium of the English language at the end of the naughties. Take a long, hard look, everyone. That's the past decade you could sum up right there.

Now, I've booked an apartotel, but my taxflation means I have to share it with an adultescent conspiratorialist I met in the blogosphere in my guise as a geekzilla. The room's in your garden, by the way, just to glocalize the situation.

TTFN

You Kids With Your Music

Since the beginning of America as we know it, the development of the culture spawning from one root has split distinctly in at least two very noticeable ways. The people who live on either side of the Atlantic pond have been subject to three hundred years of independence from each other, and that makes for two very different ways of living. The same goes for language. Everyone knows the basic spelling differences between Brits and Yanks, but it goes deeper than that. Sometimes, words can come to have completely different meanings from each other. Here's today's example...

"Punk"

Now, I'm assuming that the majority of people who get pestered into reading this are British, which will have an effect on how you go about interpreting "punk". No doubt Johnny Rotten comes to mind, along with leather jackets, mohawks and nose rings. For the average British reader, "punk" will forever be associated with the 70s music movement. To find out where this comes from, and how it differs in America, let's take a look at a different meaning.

Have you ever heard of "punk wood"? No, it's not some strange folk-punk acoustic crossover, no matter how awesome that would be. It actually refers to rotten wood that's good for nothing but being chopped down. Keen lumberjacks as they are, this means the word mostly belongs in the US, but it does get some use over here. What it shows us, though, is another root. "Punk" as used in "punk wood" is an adjective meaning rotten or worthless. This use appeared on its own at the same time. Owing to the nature of punk music, the connection with rottenness and laziness probably isn't a coincidence.

But "punk", although the music was present, came to have other meanings in America. This talk of worthlessness and devaluing is all very well, but that's not the only meaning "punk" had before The Clash. Way back when, and we're talking 16th century here, a "punk" could be used to mean a prostitute. Slightly different to the use we have today, but wait, because it gets even worse...

In America, there's a rather large and open tramp society. Within any community, you're bound to get different meanings for words. It seems here that it's come from the least reputable of those given above. A "punk" in this respect is a young boy who follows an older tramp, often by force, for sexual favours. I'm pretty sure there aren't many punk rockers who want anything to do with that sort of punk.

Disgusting as it may be, this isn't the only insulting use of "punk" found mostly in America. Alongside this meaning, there's evidence of "punk" used as a synonym for a gay man, probably dating from back when people were deluded in the belief that homosexuality is a lesser state of being. "Punk" is also used to describe cowards and weaklings. It's a far cry from anything The Sex Pistols would see themselves as, but they're in use nonetheless.

There we have it, readers. You may have had a clear idea of what a "punk" was in your mind, and I hope I've thoroughly mixed that up. It's interesting to see how an initial meaning of worthlessness or disgust can build such different meanings over time, as it shows that language changes according to the people who use it. If you live in a culture where you want to describe your music as dirty, you use a different word to someone else. Maybe language is "punk" to a certain extent, but that would depend on whether you come from York or New York.

TTFN

Calm Down, Don't Get Historical!

Today's update is more a point of pedantry than anything to do with language. When it comes to grammar, I'm usually fairly relaxed about what other people choose to do, so long as I can read it. Still, there are some things which get my goat, and it's quite tricky to ignore them. If I rant now, then they'll fly away into the ether, and I'll never yell at the telly again.

If you watch the news at all, you're bound to come across someone saying that this is "an historic moment". Is it? The issue of whether what the poor reporter's experiencing is of any value aside, is in "an historical" or "a historical"? As far as I know, there's no definitive answer (there never is), so I'll force my opinion in your face instead.

There are basic rules we all use when we speak, whether we're aware of them or not. If we look on the surface, a good rule of thumb is to say that we use "a" when a word starts with a consonant, and "an" when it starts with a vowel. Most of the time, that's simple enough to get you through life, but, like most things regarding language, it's a little more complicated than that.

Let's take a moment to pick some holes in this rule. You don't have "an one off experience", or "a hour to kill", yet both of these things are within the limits we previously set. If they're wrong, we need to take a closer look at what's going on. What we find, if we stare at the screen and mouth things for long enough, is that it's actually about how words sound. "One" is actually pronounces "wun", which opens with a consonant, whereas "hour" is "awa", starting with a vowel. Easy to see how we came up with the first rule, as most consonants sound like consonants, and vowels like vowels. Still, we know better now, don't we?

But where does this leave us with "historical"? It strikes me that a lot of people might not be aware of our little discovery above, but ignorance is no excuse. Once again, I think we have a case of a teacher liking one spelling over the other, and teaching it to a class who teach it to others, and so on. Alternatively, there's the explanation that lots of people drop the "h" when pronouncing "historical", making it "istorical", and thus beginning with a vowel, and it's just stuck.

It seems, then, that the whole problem boils down to pronunciation. If you're starting with a very obvious "h", then use the "a". That's the thing with news reporters, they use the "h" with "an". In that respect, it sounds a little grated and awkward; all for the sake of being precise.

As a final note, I was reading something earlier which suggested that the way we use "the" is a direct parallel with "a"/"an". Apparently, if you say "the" like "thee", you're about to follow it with a word you'd give an "an", whereas "the" pronounced "ther" goes as the article instead of "a". Try it out with some random words, then try "historical", and maybe you can settle the debate once and for all...

(P.S. I noticed this week that the British branch of Reader's Digest has gone into administration. Reports are coming in all over the country of people who care about books jumping for joy!)

TTFN

I Know the Answer, What's the Question?

I note that I've been neglecting my duty of exploring and explaining proverbs and phrases recently, and I'm back with an absolute cracker. As the title might suggest, it's easier to talk about the origins of this phrase than it is to talk about what it actually means, yet we use it all the time. After today, though, you'll be able to work out whether it's being used properly. Get ready to have your brain tickled, because here comes...

"It's the exception that proves the rule."

See? It's a very common little saying, I'm sure you'll agree. I'd put good money on you having used it before. However, should I ask you what it means, would you be able to tell me? You might have an idea in your head, and there's more than one answer you could give. Let's have a little look, and see what's going on here.

At first glance, your reply might be that the statement doesn't make any sense. After all, you can't have exceptions in a rule, can you? If you do, you certainly haven't proven the rule. On the contrary, you might as well throw the whole supposed rule in the bin. Well, don't be so hasty. If you've ever thought to talk about it with a learned English teacher (and I'm under the impression that there are a few reading this), you'd probably get an answer like this:

The problem here lies in our understanding of the word "prove". Naturally, we take it to mean something like "show for certain". That's blameless enough, it's pretty much the only common use we have for it. There is, unfortunately for you, a lesser known use of "prove". Yes, it can also be used as "to test/trial something". A "proving ground" is a place where you test yourself, not a place where you make yourself certain. If you do want proof you exist, read some Descartes. "The proof of the pudding is in the eating" means that we can only test a pudding by scoffing. It's easy to see how you might have thought otherwise, but you know better now.

Now, that's a very nice answer, and it deals with most of the problems with our original phrase. Luvverly. Alternatively, it has been argued that it isn't the word "prove" we're messing up with, it's "exception".

This is the brain busting bit, so bear with me. In this instance, "exception" doesn't mean that the rule has been broken or tested, but simply ignored. I'll try an example. To begin with, we need a rule:

"I'm usually at college in the week."

Bingo. Now, imagine that I make the claim "I don't have to go to college this week", and it happens to be true. Here, we're not putting the rule to test. I'm not trying to fight against the college, this is simply an irregularity. In the same way, it isn't proving that the rule's true or false, it's doing something else. By being this kind of "exception", it's demonstrating that there is a rule, and that it's simply being ignored. I suppose you have to consider a "rule" as something that doesn't have to apply. It's not a law. I could skip college whenever I wanted, the only downside being that my teachers probably wouldn't appreciate the *cough* artistic symbolism in my actions.

I'm going to keep this post relatively short, then, so I don't have to put a health warning at the top. By all means, read through it again, get confused, and leave a comment to query me. To sign off, you'll notice I haven't gone into the origins of the phrase, which is a kind of self-imposed rule for posts I set myself when I started. Does this, as an exception, prove that rule? I'm not sure myself any more...

TTFN

(P.S. It first came to to be of note English in the 17th century in a legal document, but with very similar phrases being used a hundred years previously. I couldn't help myself!)

From Guts to The Vatican in 9 Paragraphs

Being busy, this post may be a little shorter than others, for which I can only apologise. However, I hope its content is pleasing, and maybe a tad educational. Recently, I've started to pick up on the kinds of people who're actually reading this, and I'm aiming at the target accordingly. I live to serve, readers.

The subject of today's blog (I thought about using the word "lecture", but deemed it off-putting and academically stuffy) is, once again, a single word. It came into my head whilst I was walking the dog, as so many things do. Thing is, I already knew where this word came from pretty well, so I thought it would make a neat little post. When it came to double checking my knowledge, however, I found a much larger expanse of words from the same root than I had previously known. Exciting stuff. So, I hasten to present you with:

"Pontificate"

It's a verb, and a nice one at that. If I told you that it's mostly used to express something with an air of pomposity and self importance, I doubt you'd be surprised. It even looks self-important. Maybe that's because we rarely see other words like it in English these days, making it stand out and look special, like when your favourite band do a cover of a song completely out of their style, and it works beautifully. If it looks a little uncommon, then where do we get it from?

The bit that stands out, to most people, would be the "pont". It doesn't refer to the archaic "pont", which is used as a noun for bridge, and gives us the lovely looking adjective "pontal". Nor does it refer to Pontefract, the place a certain style of cake comes from. No, we usually see this particular "pont" in English as "ponti-", if we see it at all. That's because it's from a Latin word (the most interesting ones usually are), seen in full as "pontifex".

[Just a little edit: the "pont" in "pontifex" probably came from the word for bridge, and "fex" is most likely from "facere", to make. That would make a "pontifex" a "bridgebuilder". Nice thought, considering the next paragraph.]

Now, the classical scholar will be able to tell you all about how a pontifex was a priest who worked in the temples, and so on. Personally, I prefer the role of the "haruspex", which we used to translate as "gut-gazer", but that doesn't seem to have caught on. Unfortunately, the pontifex didn't spend much time looking at the entrails of dead birds, but was a bit more of a vicar-figure. That's no coincidence, as you may have worked out by now. If we see "pontifex" at all these days, it's in "Pontifex Maximus", another name for the Pope. In order not to see this as all high and mighty, just translate as "Big Bishop".

We find ourselves now talking about a religious word, where "to pontificate" pretty much means to talk like the Pope. In that case, it's really not hard to see why it might be a little pompous. The Vatican doesn't do humility. But, before I offend around a billion potential readers, I'll creep back to what I said at the beginning of the post. There are lots of variations on this "ponti-" business. Oh, yes. You thought you could only relate to the Pope by listening to what he has to say? Think again.

Although lots of these "ponti-" words are a little out of use these days, it seems that we love inventing and using them at one time or another. If you want to make something seem high-handed, you can "pontify" it. If you support the Pope in one way or another, then you can proudly call yourself a "pontifician". If, on the other hand, you like to "pontificate" regularly, you're a "pontificator". There are many more, but my favourite is your grand demeanour, or "pontificality". They abound our language's history, mixing religion and public opinion, and isn't it beautiful?

Having written all this, I've just thought of an alternate reason why "pontificate" might seem as pompous as it does. It sounds an awful lot like "ponce" which, sadly seems to bear no etymological relationship. I leave the choice between the two in your capable hands, dear readers, lest I pontify my narrative.

TTFN.

A Most Humble Apology

Dear readers, I must apologise. I've been in London town the past few days, stranded without internet access. Thus, the blog has been desolate, frightened and alone in the ever expanding ether of the internet. More importantly, there's been nothing new for anyone to read on here, which fills me with more shame than a puppy on a damp carpet. So, in order to try to make up for my inexcusable tardiness, I present you with this post. After all, some of you may want to consider me worthless after my absence and I have to perfect word you can use to do so...

"floccinaucinihilipilification"

Yup, that's right. There's no typo here, it's all one word. Is it new? No, it's from the 18th century. Is it a real word? Yup. How the hell do you pronounce it? flok-ki-naw-ki-nahy-hil-uh-pil-uh-fi-kay-shun, or something similar. It means to deem some of little or no value, which means you can also make it into a verb by saying "floccinaucinihilipilificate". But where does such a beautifully complicated word come from?

To answer that, start by looking at the word, and breaking it up into little tiny bits. "Flocci", "nauci", "nihili", and "pili" all come from Latin words which mean "nothing". Well, I say that, but "flocci" comes from "floccus" which means a bit of wool, and "pili" is the plural of "pilus", which means hair, but both are used to suggest a quantity so small it's not worth bothering with. It's a lovely notion, because it leaves you with "not worth it - nothing - nothing - not worth it - fication", in a literal sense.

So we've got a gratuitously long word based almost entirely in Latin. Clearly, it's too long for practical use, and so we need to find some jokers trained in the classics, if we're to find those responsible for this word. Because we're looking at around the first half of the 1700s, they'll be childish, Latin-speaking (i.e. rich), and probably quite influential, seeing as how it got in to the very first Oxford English Dictionary. Where, then, could such a word have come in to this world except for Eton College?

It's generally agreed that "floccinaucinihilipilification" is the invention of some Eton boys, although we can't say exactly when, because they wouldn't have been writing it down much, unless they wanted to explain it to their tutors, and by "explain to" I mean "get thrashed by". We do, fortunately, have a letter from 1741 by a chap named Shenstone where he says,

"I loved him for nothing so much as his flocci-nauci-nihili-pili-fication of money"

Clearly he was up on his Eton lingo, because he managed to get the spelling right (try it without looking at any other copy, it's a nightmare!). I'm also told that the composition of the Latin grammar in the word is typically Etonian, but I wouldn't know, not being made of money or scholarships.

Nowadays, "floccinaucinihilipilification" sees little use, except when people are trying to find examples of long words, or just plain showing off. I remember finding it by luck when my sister claimed she could spell out any word I cared to mention, and I opened the dictionary on its entry (the fun we have!). There was, though, an American senator in 1999 who used "floccinaucinihilipilification" in a speech he gave to congress, but I suspect he was just being a show-off with big words.

I say that like it's a bad thing, but that's what it's there for. "Floccinaucinihilipilification" exists purely to be an overly complicated word. It's a schoolboy joke, it's fiendishly hard to spell, and it makes you look clever. Just mentioning it is over the top, let alone trying to put it into context. So, I won't complain over its use. I never would, actually. If I ever got that, in full, in a text, it would make my day. So, what say you? Shall we carry on what those bally boys of Eton started 270 years ago? If people are going to moan about English getting dumber, let's prove them wrong! Let us floccinaucinihilipilificate their claims!

TTFN!

And Now, Without Referencing Monty Python Once...

I've not been well today, it's sad to report. Indeed, I had a headache which made me as "sick as a parrot". Except... well, it didn't. With the phrase in my head, I decided to poke around to find some origins for it, and came up with more than one surprise. Take a look at this, because I reckon you'll all have found something else to say...

The first job is to find the oldest form we can of our phrase, which is actually "sick as a dog". I'm informed that it dates back to 1705, although I'm unable to confirm the source. This, however, seems reasonable enough to me, and I'm not particularly bothered as to which disease-ridden street animal started the whole thing off in the first place. Dogs, though haven't been treated well in our literary history ("gone to the dogs", "in the dog house", "dog tired"), so I wouldn't be surprised if there were scruffy mutts involved in the process somewhere.

Once I'd got that far, I kept poking my nose about. Strangely, the American internet-goers (I've no idea if there are any reading this yet, but I'd like confirmation on the things I say about y'all) had never heard of this particular idiom, and were baffled by the meaning. Now, it might be a little hasty, but an idiom from 1705 not used across the pond? I'd call that a British origin. "Sick as a parrot" keeps very much to this trend.

We've all watched sports on the telly, and we've all enjoyed watching an old commentator getting too excited by the action on the pitch. It's in the heat of the moment, that tantalising moment in which glory is won and hopes dashed, that "sick as a parrot" is said to have been born. The commentator, with "over the moon" already firmly under the increasing girth of his belt, needs an antonym, an opposite. So comes "sick as a parrot", a phrase ready-made for moments of bitter disappointment and utter trouncing.

I should point out, if you ever intend to use the phrase, that it's rarely used outside of a sporty or light-hearted sense. I take no responsibility for angry relatives at a funeral, when you describe the passing of a loved one as making you feel "sick as a parrot". It's too jovial. Pull your socks up.

Continuing as usual, I thought I'd dive a little deeper into the pool of language (don't worry, there's always a lifeguard at hand). The uneducated man takes the phrase to have its roots at face value, considering the "parrot" in question to be "sick". This, however, is clearly... hang on... Psittacosis? Never heard of it. "Parrot disease"? That's right, folks, there's a disease out there notorious for being passed to humans by their evil avian overlords. Maybe being sick as a parrot has a connection. Coincidence? I think not...

So there you have it. Turns out I wasn't "sick as a parrot", after all. That said, I know people out there who use the phrase as such, so perhaps one day... but who am I, oh reader, to change the course of language? As you were, but bear what I have written in mind!

TTFN

iPhone Compatible, By the Way

I'm down with the kids, I know what's happening, and I can most certainly keep it real. I stay on the raw edge of things, typing in my comfy chair listening to my folk rock. Yeah. Ok, maybe not, but what I can do is things with words. So, I'm going to keep myself updated as to the oddities we get around us today, and that starts here.

The thing I want to look at today is a prefix. For those of you who don't know, that's a thing that can go at the beginning of a word to change its meaning, like UNhappy or DEcompression. I need you to understand the jargon before I blow it out of the water. Y'see, the prefix one that applies specifically to concrete nouns (that's actual things you can touch), as opposed to abstract nouns and verbs. As a result, I'm in two minds as to whether it's really a proper prefix. Even the Oxford English Dictionary has yet to comment. No matter, we shall be the first! Together! So, our topic is this:

"i-"

Ok, so you can go to the OED and look up some versions of "i-" that are already in there. Those aren't the ones I'm talking about, though. No, mine refer to words like iPod and iplayer. That "i-" has yet to get its own definition, though I've no doubt it's work in progress (they're like linguistic ninjas, I swear).

The root of this prefix (let's just call it that) can probably be traced to the iPod, the iMac, the iPhone, that sort of thing. Apple products. If it were confined to a marketing brand, we could leave it at that. Once upon a time, that's all it was, and of little importance. Nowadays, if we take a closer look, we can see it's getting bigger.

Kids, go talk to your grandparents. Ask them what life was like in the early days of the internet. They'll go on about things you won't have heard about, like "dial-up" and "Internet Explorer". Ignore those bits, and see if you can draw any jargon from the depths of their knowledge. Chances are, the nitty-gritty bits will have the prefix "e-". You still use it for email, if you still use that slow stuff, as opposed to Twitter (oh yeah, check the lingo!). It stands for electronic, electronic mail, and was pretty common. But where's it gone?

Nowadays, in what we here call Web.2.0, we've got the "iplayer" and similar complicated programs, not just HTML. Shouldn't that be "eplayer"? What's happened? Well, when it comes to technical wizardry, especially in the realms of film and music, who do we turn to for our portable devices? Cassettes? Hah!

Here's where I stand on the matter: Apple have a monopoly. It's like those years before big consoles, where we only had Nintendo. Then Sony crept in, and the analogy breaks. My point, though, is that they have such an influence, that their products are synonymous with the market they fill. Anyone else, like the BBC, who wants to get in on the act, doesn't stand a chance unless they look as cool (!) as Apple, so they've started using the same sort of language. Easy peasy, really.

It won't last. The iPod won't always be the cool thing. Some other company will take over, and the things they say will be gospel (my current guess is with 3D companies). Then everyone will start to follow them, and it'll go on forever. Maybe that's why there's no OED entry. Maybe they reckon it's just a fad, too.

There ya go, folks, a little bit of history for our generation. These are the words we have, so enjoy them while they last. It's nice knowing where they come from, and I look forward to witnessing the next lot step up to the podium!

TTFN!

It's Kind of a Mix...

Evening, ever expanding readership (I know you're out there, I can name three of you)!

Like most folk, I like to read the newspaper. Like more folk, I like to cut to the chase and grab the bit with the crossword in. Because I loyally follow a particular mostly unbiased newspaper owned by a media tyrant, I've become acquainted worryingly well with the layout of my crossword section. Imagine my delight and surprise, then, when it was announced several months ago that a chap would be writing each Monday with some informed pedantry concerning the English Language. Huzzah!

The next week, I grabbed the paper with glee, and flicked to the page I had anticipated. Horror! This fellow, this protector of the our Mother Tongue, had got it all wrong! This wasn't commentary on linguistics, this was a stubborn middle-aged man going on about the decline of language, and how we're not supposed to use split infinitives and the like (don't even get me STARTED!).

Peeved, I endured, and still do. However, a mistake he made a few months ago has re-entered my brain for reasons I will never know. No matter, though, for it allows me to vent my proverbial spleen, and enlighten the boys and girls who so frequent the internet. My point, darling reader, is that the Pedant (as he calls himself) was against this word:

"Meld"

You may have seen it, you may have used it. You may have rolled in the glorious sound of its delightful diphthong. You may, of course, have never used it. If not, don't blame yourself. However, its meaning should become clear immediately. It is, as far as I know, a combination of "melt" and "blend", serving to scintillate the senses with an almost onomatopoeic new verb.

"Oh no!" Cries the Pedant, "That's not the meaning of "meld" at all! Don't you silly children know? It's a German [he even got that wrong, it's Dutch in this sense] word used in canasta, and it's still used as such, gerroff my language! Shoo!" What's worse is that this is hardly an exaggeration. Well, Pedant, this may not be the largest audience ever (I'd be surprised if half of them were still interested after I used the word diphthong), but it's there, and I'll used it. Behold, the reasons why the Pedant is foolish in his humble opinion:

1) Words have more than one meaning each. Everyone knows this, it happens all the time, yet it's conveniently for gotten here for a good ol' bit of conservative change-hating. Remember my article on "cool"? Where's the outcry? Where's the fury? If there was any, it was lost in the awesome popularity of Miles Davies' trumpet, that's where.

2) "Meld" in this oh-so-despised form isn't even a neologism, as the Pedant would have you believe. No, indeed. The truth of the matter (and I'm going by the OED itself on this one) is that this usage dates back to 1936. That's right, 74 years ago, D.T. Lutes put "meld" in a cookbook, and got the ball rolling. To add insult to injury, the very paper the Pedant works for used the word in the fifties. THE FIFTIES. And again on my birthday in '73! Hahahaha! No further questions, yer 'onour.

I could go on. I could talk about how the refusal to accept new words would drastically alter the Pedant's life. I could go on about the pointlessness of his style of pedantry, from the point of view of a language-lover. I could but I won't. If I did, the whole thing would become as petty two silly little kids squabbling over who ate the most bugs.

Thus, I put it to the jury that you shouldn't believe what you read in the papers. People can be wrong. More to the point, there's nothing wrong with new words, changes in meaning, or coming to the same word via a different route. It's glorious, it's expansive, and it's intellectually stimulating. So, I urge you, put pen to paper, finger to keyboard, and write. Write all those lovely words floating in your head and meld them with reality.

TTFN