Some people who didn’t exist have entries in the Dictionary of National Biography and some words that don’t exist have entries in the Oxford English Dictionary. One such is primet, which was ‘erroneously stated by Prior to occur in the Grete Herball as the name of the primrose, and used by him to suggest an
‘Phwuh, this is a bit scatological,’ said my husband, looking up from last week’s column, his brow glistening with recycled Black Bush. From a man who is seldom ten yards from a sigmoidoscope, that was pretty rich. But in an interesting development on the great lasagne chase, Dr Peter Emery writes from hot Oman to
It is by no means clear to me which words are acceptable in what social circumstances. I mean words from bloody southward. It was, 20 years ago, the case that in the grown-up surroundings of The Spectator it was all right to use for good reason strong language that the BBC could not abide. Now,
I was looking for an obscure work by Richarde Weste (fl. 1609
Those trained train staff have come up with a new one. Until now it has been ‘Peterborough is the next station stop with this train.’ That is a Babylonish dialect, to be sure. But today it was: ‘We shall shortly be arriving into Peterborough.’ Arriving into? As it happens, Bishop Cuthbert Tunstall in a sermon
Britain invented lasagne, according to a front-page report in the Daily Telegraph. The claim came from organisers of a mediaeval banquet at Berkeley Castle. They appealed to ‘the world’s oldest recipe book’, The Forme of Cury, compiled under Richard II in 1390. It seems the Berkeley banqueteers meant that not just the food but the
On one of those discussion programmes, not about books but about buying books, Mariella Frostrup has just said, ‘We shall be discussing that momentarily.’ If only that had been true. Now what I really want to write about is a grammatical solecism I have been convicted of. In the politest possible way, Andrew Wilton, a
I was just looking up malarkey when my husband called out in the tones of a man who has found a glass eye in his porridge. ‘Looks like yours,’ he said, fishing a bit of paper out of the first volume of Phineas Finn as if with tongs. He was not wrong, it had my
Mr John Ross, a reader from Derbyshire, was struck by the strange juxtaposition of two phrases of different flavours in the second chapter of Scott’s Kenilworth. On the same page the host says ‘I wot not’ and another character, Mr Goldthread the mercer, says in answer to a question, ‘That I have, old boy.’ Mr
A kind-hearted reader wondered whether Chinaman might not be a derogatory term. I used it the other week. If you believe the Encarta dictionary, it is not just derogatory – it is offensive. But then, the (mainly Zulu) Encarta (as I like to think of it, in memory of the BBC World Service’s invariable phrase
Veronica has been playing Hail to the Thief, I won’t say non-stop, but as obsessively as one of those South American birds in the zoo that hasn’t got a big enough run and keeps pecking at its reflection in its water-can. She is revising simultaneously. I’d have thought she was too old for this sort
‘If you dial 1471,’ writes Dr Roger James, a reader, naturally, ‘you are likely to be told by a recorded female voice that “The caller withheld their number.” This is an example of the difficulties that our language gets into because it lacks a word that means “his” or “her”. Years ago, she would have
‘Of course Gladstone was 20 times cleverer than you,’ said my husband. ‘Much more, most likely. Why should anyone think different?’ ‘”Differently”, darling. Anyway, they don’t mind my saying “cleverer than you”. It’s “cleverer than me” they don’t like.’ My husband is easily defeated and went back to his Famous Grouse and his Herwig’s Art
My husband has just been to a professional conference in La Rioja. Why do doctors feel they confer better in places renowned for wine? I was allowed along for the ride, although it meant that even when we had a delicious dinner (those bream with gold-painted noses and bits of animals that would make Digby
Sir Ned Sherrin is beautifully vindicated by Mrs Beeton. He had wondered (Mind your language, 15 March) whether ‘morning performances’ of plays mightn’t, like other morning social activities of the mid-19th century, have been undertaken in the afternoon. His particular interest was the matinée performances staged by Squire Bancroft at the Prince of Wales’s Theatre,
I was trying the other day to find out who first came up with the term moral equivalence, and so I turned to Twentieth Century Words, edited by John Ayto (Oxford). He doesn’t list it, though he has Moral Rearmament (1938) and Moral Majority (1979). Dr Ayto arranges his words by decade, and gives the
Mr Peter Bonnett from Downham Market, Norfolk, appeals to me as ‘The Spectator’s custodian of language’. God forbid! I have troubles enough! Mr Bonnett is worried about the prevalent confusion between deprecate and depreciate, and I had just written down my deprecatory exclamations when what should I come across in the fat OED but a
A curious piece of information came the other day from my friend Patrick Williams, the chef and flute-player, accompanying a very English set of photographs of the people of Canterbury observing preparations for the Enthronement of Dr Rowan Williams as Archbishop. Mr Williams told me that he’d seen a programme dated 1862 for an ‘Enthronization’
‘What do you mean, “gapering”?’ asked my husband during a pause from shouting at the television. ‘Is it like capering?’ He wasn’t following, because he had been busy excoriating a television reporter for invoking global warming on the local news. (Local news means uninteresting things that have happened near you. It is even worse in
Veronica tells me she is ‘against the war’. At least she hasn’t joined up for the Baath party. While she was making a placard or two on the kitchen table, I have been puzzling over a letter from an anaesthetist. But before that, may I mention a couple more figures of speech that the war