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Given the amount of greens they consume in their youth, you would think butterflies would be more muscular. How can a diet of brassicas produce both Arnie and these feather-light sylphs that flit like ashes on the summer breeze?
So who do you complain to when the Ombudsman lets you down? Is there an ombudsman’s ombudsman? Is an ombudsman always a man? If so, why? And if not, why hasn’t it been changed to a gender-neutral title, like ombudsperson or just ombuds? And what even is an ombuds?
This is the first Word of the Week under a Labour government and it’s fitting perhaps that the new regime coincides with a sudden proliferation of ants in my life. (Hands up if you thought that was going to say ‘pants’.)
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Do you like eggs? Do you like corn? Then you’ll love eggcorns. Eggcorns are those common expressions that are frequently mispronounced, like ‘Doggy-Dog world’ (it’s dog-eat-dog, you numpty), ‘on tenderhooks’ (tenterhooks, whatever they are*) and ‘damp squid’ (squib, man, squib!).
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So the Euros start today. And as we put on our winter coats and settle in for the latest ‘now or ever’ attempt by England, we should not overlook the fact that tomorrow happens to be World Juggling Day.
That’s right. There is a special day for juggling. Imagine having to organise that, along with all your other responsibilities!
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Election fever is in the air and all the buzzwords are out: Hogwash, Poppycock, Balderdash, Piffle, Claptrap… Fortunately, the English language has almost as many words for nonsense as it does for rain. I could go on.
OK, I will. Drivel, Bunkum, Twaddle, Baloney, Tripe, Rot, Flannel, plus a couple more involving bulls and balls.
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This year I made a New Year’s resolution to be more definite. Or maybe it was last year? I’m not sure. Anyway, the crux of it was to stop using words like ‘might’ and ‘quite’ that blur your meaning and leave everybody none the wiser, including yourself. “I might go to the shop.” “I quite like that. It’s quite good.” What use are such statements to anyone?
We love the seasons in this country, don’t we? The winter snow, the spring showers, the summer showers and the autumn showers. It’s this variety that keeps us fresh and interesting.
After last week’s rant, I thought I owed it to you to write about something a bit more, well, cheerful. Not that the TfL problem has gone away, nor the Planning Department, nor Pep Guardiola, but the weather has (for the time being at least) and we can raise a glass to that.
But wait! Why do we do that? Why do we raise our glasses and clink them together and say “Cheers!” before drinking? I’ve been looking into it.
In the morning, the first thing I do when I get out of bed is ride an exercise bike. I know what you’re thinking: “You? Exercise bike?” I know, I know. I used to mock the idea of a bike that didn’t go anywhere – and in my heart of hearts I still do – but this thing arrived in the house about a year ago and for most of that time has stood there virtually unused, like David Beckham’s piano.
