Category: Words

Avatar Words I Hate, Part 4

Words are the foundation of our language, the tools of our communication. As well as being useful to us, they can also be beautiful: the sounds they make and the feelings they evoke are all a fundamental part of the experience of human interaction.

Not all words are like this. Some words are stupid. Like this one.

Tinsel

I like Christmas. I like it an awful lot. I like presents and Christmas dinner and having a tree in the house. Given the warm, pleasant weather we’ve been having lately, with the sun high in the sky and the gentle breeze just keeping it cool enough to go out and enjoy yourself (or, conversely, to stay in and suffer sun guilt), my thoughts have naturally been turning to Christmas lately, and all these things I like about it.

I even like the shiny spangly ropes of gaudy plastic frill that get draped everywhere. I just hate their name. Tinsel. Written down it’s fine, but said out loud it has an unfortunate pairing of a T and an S that give the whole word the irritating sound of someone whispering nearby, or possibly a high-pitched whistling noise made by air escaping from a perished rubber seal on the back of an old fridge. For example. That’s not Christmassy at all. That’s just stupid. And that’s why we need to rename this delightful substance to something better. My suggestion is “spanglestrands”, a word that describes the article in question without making me want to scratch my ears. Perfect.

Avatar Strange Adventures in the City

One more for the road before the end of the month hits.

So it’s relatively early on a Thursday morning. It’s half term so I don’t need to take Reuben to school and decide to take it easy. I waltz into the city centre just after nine and help myself to an inexpensive coffee. Whilst I’m stood outside taking it all in I notice someone approaching from my left and I look up. It’s a young lady dressed as though she is returning from a night out with admittedly the worst fake eyelashes I’ve ever seen. She asks for a cigarette so I do the nice thing and pass her one of my spares. This automatically guarantees about three minutes of conversation; that’s what you get when you hand someone a tab these days.

She makes a point of stating that it would take far too long to explain just what is going on so I ask for a shortened version. As it turns out she is just returning from a night out and she is still very much drunk to the point where she can’t stand still stood up and leans against the wall. Her friend has received some excellent news, even though she lives in a different part of the country, and she has been out celebrating with some people for about twelve hours.

It is at this moment I should point out that she is clutching two plastic bags, one of which contains her effects and the other is over-flowing with crisps.

So I listen a little more and offer my opinion on what she should do. She’s tired; I suggest going home to bed. She’s cold; I suggest going home to bed. She wants another cigarette; I’ve only got a Vype vape with me. I’m not trying to get rid of her but it seems like that is the best thing for her at the moment. In her broad Irish accent she asks if I could phone for a taxi and because I’m running out of time to get to work I help her out again. She doesn’t want to be left alone so I stay with her until the taxi arrives. Most of her conversation revolves around how much she is looking forward to going home and that nettle cheese is one of the best cheeses she’s ever tasted. I get that about five or six times, the recommendation and where to purchase it from. I’m also told that pesto goes very well with pasta.

For all my assistance I get a hug and a fond farewell. Was I looking for anything else? My coffee has gone cold. The time has just gone half nine so I need to be on my way. I wasn’t looking for anything else, and I got a cheese recommendation to boot. That suits me fine.

Avatar Best Laid Plans

Every man has a dream.

The great thing about dreams is that they can be as big or a small as you would like them to be. As long as they are relatively realistic then achieving them is just about putting your mind to it.

A man came to me at the weekend and told me his dream. He said that what he wanted most of all was a small herd of goats to keep at the coast so that they could enjoy the sights, sounds and marvels that the English coast do so well, and that when he feels like a jaunt to Scarborough or Filey he can share the experience with those very goats. I told him that such a dream was easily obtained and that he should immediately set about putting his affairs in order.

When a man has a dream though sometimes it just doesn’t go far enough.

Having set about the events so that the man could have his coast goats I then pondered the idea myself and came to the conclusion that it wasn’t enough. It would be nice to have some goats hanging about in Whitby, waiting for me to take them through the whale bones and then across the bridge for fish and chips, but how about a little bit more? What if I had goats not only at the coast but across the whole country? What if I could stop in for a cup of coffee at Costa and high five a goat on the way out? What if a goat would tell me when the bus was running late, or pass me a small pot of porridge when I’m running late for work? It would cost a lot but what about coast-to-coast goats?

Of course I did not reveal my plans to the man because he might steal them as I had stolen his idea. As well as this, his original idea would be besmirched by my much better plans and I am not prepared to besmirch my fellow man. He will eventually learn of my objectives and he will have to come to terms with them as the rest of you mortals.

Avatar Words I Hate, part 3

It’s becoming traditional (come on, we’ve been up and running for three months, so anything that’s been running this long definitely counts as a tradition) for me to wheel out another canister of literary vitriol around the start of the month. And seeing as April is looming up ahead of us I’d better get cracking with… another Word I Hate.

This one is short, because the case can be made very quickly and nobody can argue against it.

Fayre

This word doesn’t even need to exist. We have all the words with this sound and this meaning already: we have fair, meaning an outdoor event or celebration, and we have fare, meaning food and drink and perhaps generous hospitality. Fayre is sometimes used in place of both these perfectly good word by idiots who think it lends their temporary Christmas market or their roast beef serving pub some kind of charming air of tradition and jollity. But it doesn’t do that, any more than calling your newsagent Ye Olde Shoppe gives it medieval heritage. It just makes you an idiot who has called your venture a stupid name for misguided reasons. So stop it. You cretin.

Avatar Words I Hate, Part 2

It’s March, and time Marches on. Let’s steal a March on it by looking at another Word I Hate.

Knickers

Many undergarments have ordinary-sounding names. Even something intentionally sexy, like a teddy (which is, of course, short for “teddington”) can have an unsexy name. But knickers? Nothing about it suggests something I want to get involved with. Nothing about it says “here is a thing that might attractively adorn a love interest”. It is even worse than “panties”, which frankly sound like a children’s name for pants and which should not be allowed in any romantic context ever.

Knickers starts with a deadly “kn” letter combination, a piece of linguistic showjumping that automatically takes the pleasure out of a word and gives it an ungainly appearance. And after that the rest of the word is all clacking c’s and k’s and a harsh sibilant ending. No smooth sounds here, no silky suggestions of a soft undergarment concealing the downstairs pleasure gardens of a lover or casual acquaintance. No. Just hard noises and an offputting spelling.

Knickers to it, I say.

Avatar The Barrage of Flaps

I have been commissioned to write a new period drama for an as yet untitled new channel on the television. I think it’ll sit somewhere neatly between Nat Geo HD and the God Channel. Having watched and been forced with a ped egg pointed at my throat to sit through what the twenty first century considers to be a period drama I have ultimately decided that even though it may have costumes and big frilly wigs it also needs a bit of… well the letters haven’t been invented to write the word out yet but for want of a better word let’s go with pizazz.

You can’t just hire Hugh Bonneville and except everything to fall into place; I learned that the hard way when it came to the shooting of ‘Soiling and Soliloquies’ in 2012. No, what you need is a wonderful idea at heart, an original idea that’ll whack those Johnnys between the eyes and scoop up the awards as well. So we come to ‘The Barrage of Flaps’. It’s a 17th century period drama but, for some reason, the 1980’s have travelled back in time to poison not just another decade but an entire century. Betwixt the poverty and the heartache and historical accuracy there will be Wham playing on a jukebox in the background, everyone is wearing Casio watches and teenagers hassle strangers with Slush Puppies and Sony Walkmans.

I think it’s when they have a synth fundraiser for some orphans in episode four, and Axel F turns up at the last minute to offer his support, that most people will start crying.