The XEZON* Alternative Wordbook§ for Words yet to be

Transcription

The XEZON* Alternative
Wordbook§ for Words yet to
be Included (as the Official
“Dictionary” People Aren’t
Responding)
Volume 1
Written by Richard Hanrahan
Xezon (zay-non) noun. something completely original and
*
new.
Wordbook (word-buk) noun. a collection of words described
through definition, discussion and suggested alternatives.
§
AN AKATEMIKA BOOKS
For more information about this work please visit
www.akatemika.org/books
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
The Alternative Wordbook
ISBN: 978-1-78280-142-9
Originally Published in 2013
This work is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-
ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License. To view a copy of this license,
visit http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/.
This means that you can copy and share this work as much as you
like, and I urge you to do so. All I ask is that you share my name
alongside what you create - although even doing this is not strictly
necessary. Just have fun and don’t break too much, okay?
Legal wise, this book is a work of fiction and just a bit of fun, so
don’t take it too seriously.
All illustrations by Theo Cleary. Find our more at
http://theocleary.com/
Contents
Notes From The Author 4
Prebook7
Words, Essays and Definitions9
Phrases157
Epilogue159
Kickstarter Definitions 161
Thanksies 165
Notes From The Author
A Wrd About The Order Of This Book
In this revision of a lot of the words of the alphabet, it would
be remiss of me not to include something that explains the order of
all the letters as they are printed in this edition. But before this, a
brief history of how letters are ordered in the first place.
Ultimately, there is one order to which we have all grown
accustomed, which many refer to – with clear bias – as the
“usual” order. This order, as I will not need to re-emphasise, is
“ABCDEFGHIJKLMNOPQRSTUVWXYZ”. To scholars who care for
such things, this order is more specifically known as the “chrysanthemum” order. This term is used to avoid obvious connotations in
there being some sort of “accepted” order that makes other ways
of thinking seem less adequate, when in fact this order as a kind of
default has its own dangerous limitations. One needs only google
the terms “Jennifer Clumpfist Enquiry” to realise the disastrous effects that are not only possible, but seemingly inevitable. The threat
of violence attached to this order is worryingly palpable.
Many are surprised to hear that the chrysanthemum method is
not the only order that exists. One of the most common alternative
examples is the “QWERTY” school of letter ordering. In this method, often employed on keyboards and other interface devices, letters are ordered according to position, with letters of the left hand
– “QWERTASDFGZXCV” and “B” – most suited to creative writing, where-as letters proximate to the right hand – “YUIOPHJKLN”
and “M” – are those considered appropriate for factual purposes.
Although the sentiment is admirable, there are a number of limitations within this method. People without hands, for example, don't
have access to the letters and keys in the same way, and so are
completely removed from the conversation. Musicians too sometimes have their fingering frustrated by the regimented “QWERTY”
system; for them, the flexibility of their fingers is closely associated with specific musical letters – most notably “ABCDEF” and
“G” – and confusing two different simultaneously activated systems
of letter ordering can lead to e-mails being sent in the wrong key,
and improvisational jazz musicians accidentally playing whole
• The Alternative Wordbook •
Shakespearean sonnets on a piano and so on.
The Christmas Method sees letters organised according to
sex, and then again by their morality from the previous year. This
method, though very useful for philosophical reasons, is difficult to
stick to across temporal analysis. Back in 1977, the letter “b” – a
masculine letter – had an incredibly moral year and was given a
higher position than is usual for that letter, but that same year the
letter “y” – as feminine a letter as one could get in any year – was
seen as immoral and made its way to the bottom of the list. But just
five years later, in 1982, these two letters swapped places entirely
(but, thankfully, not sexes!), meaning that a number of annals became out of date and had to be amended - which had disastrous
impacts for the administrative teams trying out the new system for
state-run healthcare patient records. Online, this method is gaining
traction, but seems to be employed more out of the love of the thing
than any useful - or viable - lettering method. Instead it is simply
regurgitated through innumerable “favourite letter of the year lists”
that treat morality as something purely subjective – a bizarre consequence of the amateurism rife throughout the internet.
Another prominent system that is admired by many is the
“PLCFTRSEMOKNIJUHBYGVDXQWAZ” system, which as its
name suggests, categorises the letters in this order: “PLCFTRSEMOKNIJUHBYGVDXQWAZ”. Very popular overseas, the
“PLCFTRSEMOKNIJUHBYGVDXQWAZ” system has a genuine viability for military research due to an incredibly streamlined aesthetic
and sophisticated filtering tools. However, despite many attempts,
the “PLCFTRSEMOKNIJUHBYGVDXQWAZ” method (named after
its creator Steve PLCFTRSEMOKNIJUHBYGVDXQWAZ) has never really been adopted by the public, as demonstrated by facts I
needn’t bore you with right now.
Though many would appreciate a characteristic ordering system similar to the QWERTY system, it is not entirely fruitful for
audiences new to my writing and indeed new to letters in general.
For convention’s sake I will keep the ordering fairly traditional. By
the same token it would be unprofessional of me not to challenge
the “chrysanthemum” oligarchy of lettering which, like a militant
dictator, does more harm than good if remaining unquestioned.
Notes From The Author
5
These dictators often look like jokes, nothing more than a melted
statue in the emperor’s new clothes of well0threaded shit and badly
copied Versace. For this reason, we must not let the emperor’s tailor
fashion our letter ordering systems, unless we are careful to keep
the receipt.
As such, I have attempted some fundamental changes to demonstrate the importance of challenging this dominance. Initially, I
tried to replace the letter “a” from its arbitrary position of strength
at the beginning of word lists, and instead give this prominent position to a lesser known letter. However, I couldn't choose a letter
which didn't have its own significance and which didn’t unfairly
dominate that position. Experimenting with new systems, I decided
to simply move “a” to the final position in the list so that the list
began with “b” - but this appeared to be an equally strong position for the letter “a” to be in, as it would have the final word. So
as a kind of buffer, I moved “b” after “a”, to begin with “c” – but
even this seemingly precarious position meant that “a” preempted
the final letter, becoming the last triumphant skip before the end,
the puncture in the narrative structure, the lynchpin of the order.
This process was repeated ad nauseum until eventually “a” was
returned to its original position as the first letter in the order - back
to where we started, the only change being my heavy heart and
several bruised eyelids. So, rather than fight for control over the letters, I have instead
asked the publishers to completely randomise the letter order in
both physical copies and digital copies – so whatever the order that
is read by you, know that it is entirely unique to you!
Richard Hanrahan
6 Notes From The Author
Prebook*
How this book came to be. I have been sharing my words for
a long time with various people and in various ways. On-stage, a
number of these words have been heard repeatedly by people who
don’t care enough to form any sort of coherent campaign for them
to become law. Outside of the theatre, I have shared new and
more experimental words with people via the internet, on twitter
and so on – occasionally in an exchange of my mouth and their
ear(s). These people, too, refuse to acknowledge the importance
of these words becoming official. And so it has fallen to me.
In an effort to get these words officially recognised I have
written a number of words in the form of real-mails†, which I
had sent to the existing official bodies that accept such things.
However, their continued ignoreance of my efforts is an appalling
waste of public money, and a damn shame for society in general.‡ As such, I have attempted to combine these suggested ideas
into one single collection to be used as the reader wants. If you,
my loyal eyes to the text I have spewed through digital fingers,
adopted my creations into your lexicon, that would be incredible,
* See definition of “prebook”.
† This word was created to prevent a problem I had encountered.
Before the invention of “real-mails”, a “letter” was the collective
noun for “letters”, i.e. a letter of letters, which is, frankly, absurd and
confusing. What would we call the collective noun for sending a lot of
letters? I wouldn’t even know where to begin here. Therefore, during
what little time there is left for the postal service, I would like to suggest that we adopt “Real-mail” to run as the real-world equivalent of
the already predominantl term “e-mails or “electronic mail”§
‡ See ignoreance.
§ Some people might question why one wouldn’t use the term “mail”
as opposed to “e-mail”, but linguistically there is so much confusion
with “male/female” and “chainmail” that to use another word which
would then redefine all the other words, would be completely illogical.
Prebook 7
but merely reading and enjoying the collection in any way would
be permissible and even admirable.
Critical reception aside, this is not a complete project.
Advocates of the original “dictionary” will recall that the book
was originally conceived as a project to fill the gap until the encyclopaedia, its much-planned sequel, was ready to be published.
No one realised the success that the original book would go on to
have – including being translated into most languages – and so
its writers simply neglected to focus on quality, instead limiting
their reach to the achievement of quantity. As such, word books
have always been understood as temporary tomes to knowledge,
and this edition might well be considered a sub-project in the evolution of the written word.
Additions to this collection will be made by myself, and explored wherever I happen to have the idea, but if one wanted to
make suggestions they can be made through the official channels
(twitter @thehitch). And, unlike the preposterous and privileged
few who are responsible for more traditional dictionaries, I will
get back to you. Unless you are really weird or rude or somehow
disagreeable, or if I simply don’t have the time.
I would also like to take the opportunity at this point to
thank my editor, Ed, for his last minute contributions to the text.
8 Prebook
Words, Essays and Definitions
A
(a)
(eh?)
The letter “a” is one of the most interesting of all the letters.
Despite former protestations, it is indisputable that “a” has links
to permanence, beginnings, and introductions – the alpha, in the
original Greek alphabet, itself the original collection of letters at
the very beginning of linguistic theory. Many have asked why it
is that the letter “a” was chosen for this fascinating role in human language. The answer: we just don’t know. One suggested
reason is that “a” is simply a basic letter. Using the same scientific
analysis that we would use for chemicals in a table of elements,
the atomic number of “a” is one. Thus, when the original ord er
was being established, “a” was deemed as the basic unit by which
other letters were measured.
Far more suggestive is the suggestion that suggests the event
was merely a coincidental suggegate. Let me set the scene: we are
at the initial meeting, the air is pregnant with intrigue as representatives from every clan are sat around a pot, brimming with
some generic molten metal. Each is equally passionate about that
which they represent. The powerful “p” tribe, for example, were
an outspoken bunch who would have refused to sit down, dressed
in nothing but loincloths (idiotically placed on the head, leaving
the genitals entirely unencumbered, erect and attached to various weaponry). Elsewhere, leaders from teams “d” and “g” were
greased up beyond their means, their hands poised as fists, glaring at each other, desperate not to blink – and each wearing the
tattoo of their respective letters inscribed deep into every available inch of unsweaty skin. In fact, each clan’s lust for violence
would only have been equalled by the passion of their foes. To
avoid this event boiling over, mediators asked that the threat of
A9
war be avoided through the casting of lots of lots. If this was the
case, then lady luck truly had a soft spot for the mischievous little
bastard “a” that day. The rest, we can assume, is history.
It would be bizarre not to mention here the indefinite article,
as in “a” or “an”. An “a” or an “an” are used today as a way to
keep words nicely spaced out, but originally this practice formed
part of an oral tradition by which lowly peasants, and others less
linguistically educated, struggled to work out what it was they
needed to say. While searching for the word they should utter,
these plebeians would say “a” or “an” to fill the gap. Soon, playwrights and artists adopted this practice as a tool for ridicule,
employing the letter “a” as a symbol of stupidity and ignorance
– from where we get the term “anus” (quite literally, that which
is of us, and spouts shit). This nuance of meaning has since been
lost, with “a” and “an” prevalent in almost every sentence, without irony or context. It is estimated that “a” and “an” are used
between a million and a zillion times a day globally – in the UK
alone.
Another use of “a” is in the printing industry. Here, the largest sheet is known as A0, which when halved becomes A1, and
when halved again becomes A2 – and so on all the way until
A117. The size and shape of these first pieces of paper relate,
probably, to original bookmakers. Back in the day, fashion dictated that the larger the book, the more truthful it was – and
so patrons ordered massive books. However, libraries started to
complain about accidental deaths, as academics were crushed by
gigantic books falling from giant-sized shelves. As a response, the
maximum size of a text was restricted in 1453 dangerous book
act to “no more than twice t’length of kieng’s arme, nae thickness
a’for 3 scor eygs” – which today is A0. This spawned the popular
90s band A1 and their equally succesful quarter-sized children’s
equivalent A4.
10 A
Abbrev. (ab-rev) noun. Shortened version of something. The abbrev. of abbrev. is abb..
Accent (ass-cent) noun. Strange voice that people are forced to
use when going up hills due to being out of breath.
Accordion (aye-chord-iain) noun. Instrument of peace.
Acronym (aye-crow-nim) noun. Strong strength, as in, “the man
punched him in the face, with acronym”. This replaces the
original problematic word “acronym”. See AWMUFTILOSOW
Advertising (ad-ver-tie-zing) noun. Stuff people watch when they
want to feel angry.
aerooanamac (air-o-an-knee-mack) adj. Describes something
which has been designed to reduce or minimize drag as an
object moves through air. An improvement on the old word
“aerodynamic” which had too many pointy bits.
Aesther (ayes-thur) noun. Religious holiday for people who
genuinely believe that the Aeaster bunny died for our sins.
According to their abridged dogma, the Aeaster bunny did
this by laying thick, chocolate eggs into novelty sized mugs.
Children now celebrate this event by eating the human flesh
and blood gifted to them by an imaginary Jesus Christ (in reality, this is just some unlucky uncle that the children’s parents
force into a cheap Jesus suit in exchange for alcoholic reimbursement).
Aesthete (ayes-theet) verb. To make something considered art.
E.g. “the way he aestheted his lounge made it seem like a bizarre cave where a lizard might live, if it had the starting capital”.
Aesthlete (ayes-th-lee-te) noun. Someone who makes something
considered art quickly. E.g. “the way the aesthlete aestheted
his lounge so quickly made it seem like a bizarre cave where a
quick lizard might live, if it had had the starting capital at the
last minute.”
A 11
Aislements (i’ll-mints) noun. Headache-inducing confusion from
a supermarket rearranging its stock without warning.
Ala’n (al-are-n) noun. My friend, who is often mistaken for a god
in pubs and weekly meetings.
Aesther
Alley Bar-bar (al-ee-bar-bar) noun. Any wonderful drinking establishment off the beaten track whose clientèle are primarily
the hard-working immigrants that make the United Kingdom
so wonderful. These are often my favourite places to “hang
out” when I am not drinking alone at home, from an eggcup.
Amnesty International (am-nest-y-in-der-gnat-unal) noun.
Charity which writes to libraries around the world, asking that
excessive fines be relieved if certain conditions are met (mostly
12 A
if the books are returned unharmed). In some countries across
the globe, many public libraries are heartless entities, and their
endless pursuit of profit mean that innocent people trying to
read are locked up, tortured, and in extreme cases killed, Their
only crimes are coffee stains and occasional crumpled pages.
Anaesthism (an-east-hism) noun. Philosophy of those completely
numbed to all debates on religion and its hypocrisy.
Anagram-a-gram (an-a-gram-a-gram-a-gram) noun. Branded
door-to-door service that provides a surprise mixing wordplay
with stripping – the ideal present for any anniversary or birthday. Having been involved in a start-up based on this premise,
if you do go into this business, I’d advise you make sure any
elderly recipient entirely understands what’s what before you
begin.
Ancronym (an-crow-nim) noun. Type of word used by mechanics to express something that would otherwise be too complicated to explain without several years of academic training, or
on-the-job experience. E.g. “the butterfly would have used an
ancronym, but even that would have made the entire situation
that much more erect”.
noun. Small insect that has no use other than
for other ants. The old word “ant” was too big and too loud.
Ant (ant [whispered])
Anti-semantic (an-tee-sir-man-tick) adj. Description that most effectively unites all grammar Nazis.
Apology (app-ology) noun. Academic subject that explores the
feigning of sincerity.
Apostrophes (a-pos-tro-fees) noun. Group of Jesus’ closest and
dearest punctuations.
Appendicitis (a-pen-dey-cite-is) noun. Medical aversion to additional texts provided (in a book) that are superfluous, but still
of interest, to the reading of the main narrative.
Approx (aye-procks) noun. When a rough estimation is the exact
A 13
required figure or measurement.
Arbitary (our-bit-ree) noun. Any boring, common or garden tree
for which we don’t otherwise have a name.
Archery (our-cherry) noun. Practice of an architect who specialises in the construction of bridges.
Arse-hole (our-sole) noun. Gap in a seat that fits your bum perfectly.
Artaud (our-tow) noun. Genre of art that doesn’t make sense.
E.g. “He performed his piece for a chance to drink some of the
Japanese rice wine – Artaud for Artaud’s sake”.
Aunty-antonym (are-int-tee-an-tin-ime) noun. Words said by relatives that mean precisely the opposite of what they seem, intentionally or otherwise. E.g. “You are my favourite nephew”.
Auto-biography
14 A
Aussie (oz-ee) noun. An Australian. The most famous “Aussie” is
a fellow called Osbourne who spends most of his days dressed
in black and shaking profusely, at one point in his career mumbling for the amusement of a television audience, at another
mumbling loudly as part of a successful rock outfit.
Autobiography (ought-o-bi-og-raffy) noun. Biography that writes
itself.
Aweful (or-ful) noun. Something wonderful, literally full of awe.
Awesome (or-sum) noun. Something that is sort of alright, literally having some awe.
AWMUFTILOSOW (or-muf-til-oh-so) noun. A word made up from
the initial letters of several other words. Interestingly, the separate letters of AWMUFTILOSOW stand for “AWMUFTILOSOW
word made from the initial letters (of) several other words”,
with the first letter representing the full word in itself. This
then is the first word in the English language to be infinitely
recursive – but it certainly won’t be the last. See Acronym
Awnament (or-na-men-t) noun. Any action one does to the display of the neighbourhood, be it fencing on the front lawn, or
pretending to play charades on next door’s veranda.
A 15
B
(b)
(bee)
The letter “b” is one of the most interesting of all the letters.
Without a doubt – or perhaps rather, completely within doubt
– “b” is the letter of existentialism. For any children harvested
within the British education system, any discussion of this letter cannot begin without returning to a well-worn quotation fond
in the memory, and still warm in the brain. Famously, it was of
course Hamlet that wrote in his play “Shakespeare”:
Shakespeare: To “B” or not to “B”;
that is the question.
Whether to leave my word, un b’ed at all
should this “b” my final suggestion?
or do I let the “Dum” be raw? Un-end
like a sentence pixie ore...
Shall I compare “B” to a summer’s “A”,
and hope in spring that “Duma” will be okay?
Or shall I, like beaks with bristling balls
be birdied into thoughts, and gall:
When is a ding, not a ding? When it’s a dong,
when the ladle hits the bell, and sings its sorrowful
song...”
This curious passage comes at the climax of the play, in which the
unruly protagonist, Reginald R. Shakespeare, must contemplate
a letter to be sent to his b’trothed: Ariadne. In this letter, which
is traditionally performed with an Allen key in hand, he must
feign ignorance that he and Ariadne ever met, or else her father,
Geoffrey Archer, will “strike his head from b’tween [shoulders]”,
and the same fate be received by her. And so Shakespeare plots to
remove Ariadne from his life, in the hope that she can be spared,
16 B
and live as if they met in a dream. To live in love, in this case, is
to die – but to live without death is to love the greater. Many will
have learn’d this passage by heart, and few will forget its echoes in
their lifetime, nor indeed the hilarious climax to the play, which
made Hamlet his name, back when it was written in 1975.
Thus, the existentialist question is explored through life,
love and “beauty”. It is only right that “b” is the dominant consonant in the short but complicated word “be” – barely even requiring the additional letter “e” at all, so implicit is the notion within
the first letter. Even the word beauty holds within it the very “b”
(and additional “e”) of that curious verb of essence – asking us to
consider what life is if not to find what is beautiful (and beauty
here not simply meaning visually attractive, but essentially vital,
worthwhile and wonderful)? Precisely the question that the letter
“b” signifies.
One of the most agreeable – and British – of all the insects
was named after “b” as its life was never understood. Why bees
were so violently yellow and black – colours so often ignored by
the animal kingdom – and why they would spend their days hovering in parks left scientists and insect enthusiasts (insecticides)
puzzled. This was until, sometime in the nineteenth century, when
someone followed some and found where they slept at night: in
complex honey making factories. Until this time bees were considered useless, their occupation understood to be aligned with
bourgeois pursuits – fluttering around in gardens, sniffing flowers,
and occasionally hanging out near alcohol – and so bees became
associated with the celebration of many of the virtues held dear
to the existentialists, looking for something more relaxing in life.
Thus, what were formerly known as “stingwits” became what we
know today as “bees”, and this is where the ironic phrase “busy as
a bee” emerged from.
Also, “B” on its side looks like a pair of breasts, so yeah.
B 17
BachelorPad (batch-ular-pad) noun. Any home equipped with
enough cup-a-soups to last a short apocalypse.
Badger (badge-r) noun. Hobbyist who makes badges.
Balls (balls) noun. Substantial area of flesh found toward the
back, or heel, of your feet. Formerly, many used to call the
front of your foot the “ball” but this doesn’t look anything like
a ball – as such it should be called the “toes”, or else we drop
this ridiculous term and just drag ourselves from place to place
on our knees.
Bananza (ban-an-za) noun. A lot of bananas.
Banter (ban-ter) noun. Small rodent-like animal that is discussed
at length by egregious men.
Basilisk (bas-il-isque) noun. Large stone totem dedicated to John
Cleese’s character in Fawlty Towers. A number of Basilisks can
be found throughout the United Kingdom including Wiltshire,
Brockingly and Taytham-on-sea. Even today, some are still
used as a place for men to hide things from their wives, as if
relationships still took place according to the custom within
1970s British sitcoms.
Batman (bat-man) noun. Cricket term for the person hitting the
ball back please. Notoriously, all batmen are orphans with unfathomably large sums of money bequeathed to them in wills,
but who often have to struggle to overcome an irrational fear
of crickets (both the sport and the insect).
Battery Hen (bat-terry-hen) noun. Chicken which lays eggs under
threat of being hit.
Bawl (ball) noun. One of those loud, whizzing balls you see
young people with in parks. I don’t know their name, otherwise I’d be able to give the police a better description of who
those children are.
B’day (bee-day) noun. Traditional Aussie greeting for someone
celebrating their birthday. This is why a lot of people from
18 B
“down under” struggle with the concept of European bathroom
etiquette, disregarding the bidet entirely. See Aussie
Bear Baiting (bare-bay-ting) noun. Old practice of fishing which
employs a bear instead of a worm or fly. Enthusiasts should
note that the technique can also be used to lure children into
traps, although this is now illegal.
Bearn (bear-n) noun. Child of adult bears found in Scotland.
However, many today are actually American by birth, though
claiming to have Scottish ancestry. Zoologists believe these
bearns only ever feel comfortable or at home when stinking of
whiskey and pissing on a nearby doorstep.
Be’er (be-er) noun. One who is being. E.g. “She drank the be’er
like it was a naughty violin, and felt good”
Belief (be-leaf) noun. Buddhist doctrine that one should think
like a plant’s hands. See leaf
Bello (bell-o) interjection. negative greeting, shortened from
“bad hello”. Used when you are approaching someone with
whom you are reluctant to strike up a conversation. See Gello
Betrough (be-tro-ff) verb. To promise someone a meal.
Beyoncer (bay-once-say) verb. From the French verb, meaning
to act fiercely.
Bibble (bib-bell) noun. Branded clothing range for children, featuring stories from God that a one-year-old can understand,
e.g. the disgusting and bloody murder of Cain’s brother Abel,
depicted in soft wool and brightly coloured animal illustrations.
Bingo (bin-go) interjection. When someone finds exactly
what they want using Microsoft’s popular search engine.
Incidentally, the search engine got its name after the death
of Bill Gates’ closest and dearest head secretary, a small dog
called Bingo. Many have blamed the company’s recent failings
on its administrative set-up, as much of the organization’s imB 19
portant paperwork is still buried underground.
Bit-a-batter (bit-ter-bat-ter) noun. Dregs left behind in a chippy
from deep-frying fish.
Blank (blan-k) noun. A bank without any money. The term was
made popular by a British quiz show called Blankety Blank in
which contestants would try to make up sentences in which
unfortunate things took place, which revolved around a bank
running out of money – an idea that made everyone immediately laugh as this would, of course, be impossible. E.g. “He
would go to the blank, but he was too busy masturbating”.
Blaze (blay-z) noun. Material from which a smart jacket is made.
Blender (blen-der) noun. Specific artist who is talented at layering colours.
Blest (blay-sht) adj. Describes someone who has received the
most points from God, as designated by an app for Christianity
called Omnisquare. By virtue of the fact that God is everywhere,
points are awarded by checking into any place one wishes and
connecting with God. People who check in more than anyone
else become the “shepherd” of that place. Similarly, acts of
compassion are rewarded with badges – e.g. the “I helped a
man with his shopping” badge, the “I helped a woman cross
the street” badge and the “I stopped a man from sinfully eating
shellfish before he blasphemed right in my face, but I forgave
him” badge. One other feature is a “God Hates Fags” badge,
which sees players picking up littered cigarette butts to help
clean the streets.
Bllcks (bil-ox) exclamation. Sound one makes when one drops
and cracks the screen of their swish and expensive new smartphone.
Bluster (blus-ter) noun. Stuff that gets in your eyes when the
wind blows in your face, blinding you temporarily. Scientists
have as yet been unable to find any evidence that bluster exists. Some conspiracy theorists have contemplated that bluster may have originally begun its life in experimental military
20 B
weapons development and since escaped, and that officials and
scientists must pretend it not exist. Conspiracy theory theorists
believe this is bollocks.
Bogril (boux-grill) noun. Hot drink, looks like gravy. One of those
delicacies it is better not to know the sources of before one
tastes.
Bonjello (bont-jay-lo) noun. An American breakfast jam that
numbs the mouth. Originally for medical use, it is now mostly
used for fun.
Bonjoy (bon-joy) interjection. Informal positive greeting for
every language.
Boo-ghee (boo-gee) noun. Furry vegetable found in dark, damp
caves that quickly hardens in the air. Deceptively sticky when
wet it is often used in speciality cooking, although it can be
fashioned and moulded before being dried and sold as “art”.
Booking (book-ing) verb. To use one’s eyes to understand the
meaning of words in a book. This word was created to prevent
the unfortunate mishap when the original word “reading” was
mistaken for the name of a place, E.g. “I was reading about
reading in reading, where I was reeding, readingly”.
Bop (bop) noun. Experience of being at a party that is actually a
hallucination, often brought about by very specific head trauma.
Borch (bor-she) noun. Something between a bore and a chore.
Often used as an offhand title for any generically ill-conceived
stew.
Botherance (bo-the-ren-se) noun. Empirically measured amount
of being bothered or bothering.
Bowman (bow-man) noun. Someone who plays the cello.
Boxing (box-zing) adverb. Act of putting things into boxes. Can
refer not only to the physical labour of placing things into
B 21
boxes, but also employed metaphorically for when people put
things into boxes in their minds – an act which can be just as
tedious. See Fisting
Bracket (brac-get) noun. Punctuation for people who are yet to
truly master the use of commas, akin to stabilisers on a child’s
bicycle. E.g. “He swallowed the bracket like a swallow swallows a swallow [swallowingly]”
Brandy (bran-dee) noun. Feeling of being turned on when one
gets drunk. E.g. “after drinking any amount, men or women
you otherwise consider “good friends” become “sexually alluring” for your “genitals” and “wandering” “hands””.
Brew (brew) adj. Colour the shade of blue. The hue is somewhere
between “light blue” and “lighter blue”. E.g. “I’m brew dab ah
deeb ah doo bi...”
Brothel (broth-elle) noun. Café or house where soups are consumed while gentlemen watch, masturbating furiously.
Bug-bear (bug-bear) noun. Magical creature that feasts on annoyance. Just large enough to be seen by the naked eye, the
bug-bear can transfigure into anything it likes and does so in
order to induce tepid rage from an annoyance specific to each
person or prey. Bug-bears are able to frustrate endlessly with
little effort and merely become more annoying the more one
tries to resist.
Bugle (bew-gel) verb. To bullshit with gay abandon.
Bulldercrap (bull-der-kwrapp) noun. Thick, foggy bunch of disgusting nonsense.
Bum (bottom) noun. Hinge made of flesh.
Buquet (boo-kay) noun. Any receptacle for flowers when, for
whatever reason, one cannot at that moment find a vase.
Buttery (but-airy) noun. Portable energy source made from lactated animal fat.
22 B
Buttler (boot-la) noun. Servant hired to look after your derrière.
Byg (byig) adj. When something is large, but in such a way as to
be messy, but essentially inoffensive.
Bygone (bye-gorne) noun. Animal that keeps itself to itself. Short
haired, dark brown, and living off a diet of dust and dying
plants, the creature poses no active threat to any other animal.
More bizarrely still, the bygone cannot be eaten by other animals as they are poisonous to the touch. Their poison isn’t even
a fun poison either, causing no form of hallucination or lightheadedness, nor can it be chemically synthesized or adapted to
be made into an efficient killing drug (were you to be seeking
such a thing). No, nothing about the bygone is of any use –
even their pelt immediately falls apart once separated from
living flesh. The bygone is entirely useless as a resource – so
much so that government policy surrounding the bygone is
to let it do whatever it does; in America this policy came to
a head when President Galloway famously told a lame duck
senator – in his typically presidential tone – that the official
position of the White House was to “Let bygones be bygones.
Fuck ‘em”.
B 23
C
(c)
(sea)
The letter “c” is one of the most interesting of all the letters.
Go and get a glass of water. Now drink a little, but don’t
swallow. Let the pool of liquid settle in the palate of the tongue.
Carefully (and with the supervision of a trained medical practitioner) tilt your head back so that it is exactly, or nearly, perpendicular. Now, allow a slight whistling sound to emerge from the
lungs – through the throat and vocal chords leaving the mouth
past the tonsils (or simply through the mouth if your tonsils have
been removed). If possible, give some opportunity for this whistling to emerge as deeply from your body as you can manage (be
it from your heart, your stomach, or from the toes of your feet if
so inclined) – and let it sing. Do you hear that? Good (I’ll assume
you answered “yes” to this question; if not, return to the top of the
page and start again). That sound is the medieval pronunciation
of the letter “c” – although it doesn’t come close to the sound as
it would have originally been heard from a well-practiced throat,
muscles throbbing in god-fearing delight. This practice, cresfting,
is now lost as you are no doubt well aware, or in fact completely
unaware.
Originally performed daily as part of regular prayer and religious exercises, this practice still remains in some Hispanic cultures in a morning ritual known as “¡Curastina!”. In these circumstances, young children are encouraged to engage in this before
they eat a hearty breakfast; the practice suggested to be as important to their health as bathing, homework, and scrabble practice is
to our own children – though many cheat with a well-placed finger
behind the tongue. Our loss is not simply cultural. Contemporary
research has suggested some quite pronounced health benefits are
fast disappearing without a good cresfting, with some (the ones
with thicker glasses and shinier white coats) documenting a link
24 C
between the ritual’s absence and a surge in the obesity epidemic.
With no natural connection with the letter, our relationship
to the letter “c” is replaced by an astonishing fear. With every approach we must ask: “is it a soft or a harsh “c”? Is that a “canal”
on “Channel 5”? Why can’t cake cement itself into my life as an
accentuated cacophony of coolness?” No longer in touch with “c”,
we are left with a shallow letter that is neither as smooth as “s”
nor as kicking as “k” – and many question why “c”, placed between these two behemoths, should burden us at all.
Casual English speaker are often frustrated by the many rules
we have to define the letter’s use. As many have learnt by rota,
having “i” before “e” is changed dramatically if it is immediately
preceeded by a “c” (though only before 10pm). This complexity,
here and elsewhere, is down to relations “c” attempts to have with
other letters – not only fussy around vowels, it is with another that
“c” behaves most curiously: beside its lover, “h”. Together they
have a charm: keen to touch, or chill on the couch. But this horny
bugger “c” wants to escape this relationship, living in deluded
hope that it can pull beyond its means with some other sexual
partners – hence we find some ill-conceived dalliances, particularly with unsuspecting Czechs. Worse still are the bitter and callous
encounters, where “c” spends most of its life outwardly rejecting
“h”, only to crawl back to it in moments of weakness on those
many drunken occasions behind the scenes, pathetically desiring
the lap of tongue, and warmth of embrace.
As a medical note, using “c” on its own can be painful, so do
take care, as the results can be catastrophic.
C 25
Çâkë (sher-kaer) noun. Small instrument made of rosewood that
sounds like a Cäké.
Cäké (ker-key) noun. Type of bird, found in South Africa.
Cake (Kay-k) noun. Thick layer of mud.
Canal (cane-all) noun. Sexual method for those who like it up
water-based trade routes.
Candidate (can-dee-da-te) noun. Best-before time-stamp found
on packets of thrush cream.
Candle (can-del) noun. Wax totem that when burnt, inspires confidence through a synthesized narcotic with a deceptively foulsmelling aroma.
CAPITALISM (ka-pit-all-ism) noun. Process by which language
becomes offensive when caps lock is used accidentally. E.g.
“I’m sorry for CAPITALISM”
Capo (ka-po) noun. Italian financial limit, or hat.
Castrated (ka-stray-ted) verb. Frustration with Cuban leaders.
CCTB (See-See-Tee-Bee) awmuf. Closed Circuit TuBerculosis. A
kind of disease only rumoured to exist; if it did, the disease
would be closed circuit in two senses – first in that it would
only affect people (and badgers for that matter) through surveillance technology, transferring when people realise that
they are being watched and so change the way they are acting
to look less suspicious – for in this brief moment one’s own immune system does not know what to do. Secondly, the disease
itself is self-contained, and creates and cures itself before it can
be found.
Celery (sell-ery) noun. Long stringy vegetable formerly used to
pay farmers and other workmen, from which we derive the
word “cellar”, meaning a downstairs room where celery could
be stored.
26 C
Cesspool (ces-pool) noun. Swimming area where anything goes.
Chaffinch (cha-finch) noun. Painful red mark left on legs when
they have rubbed together.
Chapstick (cha-pstick) noun. Retractable aid for when one needs
to rub man all over one’s lips.
Chesticles (ch-yes-tickles) noun. Ladies’ bits, found on the chest,
and distribution centre of ladies’ seed (i.e. milk) which is used
for child rearing. There are many documented uses of lady
milk, including use as an alternative to P.V.A. glue in emergencies, as a puddle to slip up someone when being chased, as a
hair dye. It can also be released at will on a hot summer’s day
for something that children can play with in their mouths.
Chint (chin-t) noun. Unruly facial hair that is somewhere between beard and stubble – unwanted and unloved.
Chinty (chin-tee) adj. Coarse, scratchy feeling closely associated
with the friction of facial hair. The poet Sir Roland McNaulty,
a former sailor turned spiceman at the turn of the 19th century, is credited with the word’s invention. His poetry is unconsciously celebrated to this day at McNaulty nights across the
UK – often through normal dinner parties without a single person realising something special is going on, It is McNaulty who
first popularised the needless blather of drunkenness which
sounds utterly profound in the throat but when unleashed becomes incomprehensible. E.g. Glaswegian Kiss (1821)
“And then the night, its chinty brew,
stormed swiftly through the eve,
the blisters of the heartless cold;
he said his name was Steve.
Our eyes exchanged, our furrowed brows cursed
swiftly through the night
underfoot the broken bricks
meant wrong could feel so right
Without a hint, he lent afore
C 27
til n’er his uncooked parsnips rose
my broken shoes, poor rubber soled
left me with frozen toes.
I took his claim, his poor bowelèd stutter
for what I could believe
he buttered his lips, and placed them
near til
a kiss, it was achieved.”
Sir Roland McNaulty
Chip-Chop (cheep-chop) noun. Genre of music in which rap is
sped up, thereby improving its sound.
Chiskets (chis-gets) noun. Specific biscuit created to be consumed with cheese, or cheese-flavoured biscuit snacks that can
be eaten suspiciously on their own.
Chobo (jo-bow) noun. Any illicit act performed/stolen/drunk/
smoked/kissed by a child while on a school trip. It is derived
from a similar French word made from “choir” (as in a group
of singing children or the collective noun for angels) and the
verb “to drink” (boire).
Choke (cho-ke) noun. Any funny thing that someone says, often
requested of a comedian outside their natural environment.
Chores (show-res) noun. Film about a shark that eats people, but
for the hard of hearing.
Chrime (sck-rhyme) noun. Illegal act which one can simply brush
under the carpet (metaphorically speaking). These are often
performed unknowingly by children who have run away from
home, and whose misdemeanours are forgiven when the authorities return them to their worried parents.
Chrispmas (crisp-mouse) noun. Traditional time of year when we
celebrate all that is good brought to us by baked or fried potato
snacks. On this day, Gary Lineker comes down from his throne
in the heavens of Leicester Football Club to give presents to all
the (good) children. Though unfortunately increasingly com28 C
mercialised as years go by, Chrispmas is celebrated in a number of different ways throughout the world – for example, in
India they don’t celebrate Chrispmas at all.
Chuff (chuff) noun. Something which is unnecessarily full of itself. Often used as a critical term. E.g. “this film is chuff”.
Chuggered (chug-gerrred) verb. Having an interaction with a
chugger (charity mugger) on one’s own doorstep. E.g. “they
say charity starts at home, but that’s no reason for me to get
chuggered. Still – where did you say I could find an archer?”
Chump (chump) noun. Anything that makes a meal last longer
than is necessary, e.g. salad.
Chym (chyjim) noun. Where one goes to work out and exercise.
This word is preferred to “gym”, as it is slightly longer, and
thus will burn more calories just by merely existing. E.g. “he
preferred not to think about the chym, for it made his sky
blue”.
Cigrets (sig-rets) noun. Physical manifestation of remembering
doing something you shouldn’t have done, through a raspy
throat – and a bit of a cough.
Clamity (klamb-ity) noun. Seafood disaster.
Cloudman (clow-dmen) noun. Someone who is part of the cloud
government which has ultimate control over people. This is a
non-hereditary class, but cloudmen can gain and occasionally
lose their position within the cloud government, though they
can never discuss this arrangement with anyone. Few people
are able to identify cloudmen or even know of their existence,
but the fact that they exist maintains and promotes a world in
which there is no wonder, fantasy or beauty other than that
of the wills of the cloudmen: this often reinforces negativity,
despite cloudman methods that are, to an extent, “enjoyed” by
people. Examples of cloudmen include Name Redacted, Name
Redacted and Name Redacted. (Names redacted – Ed.)
Cluck (gluck) noun. Timepiece that stares at you and seems to
C 29
move backwards. E.g. “she whistled to herself”
Clutch (klut-ch) noun. Friendly, improvised home for chickens
kept as non-commercial pets.
Comb-over (gou-mou-ver) noun. End of any session of brushing.
Communicado (com-mew-ni-gar-do) noun. Night club with perfect signal for phones and wifi. There is a tricky distinction
to be made here between telling a friend that one is “in communicado” for a night out, and when one is “incommunicado”,
especially as these clubs are so brilliant that often people who
go there do not want to be contacted or disturbed.
Compandium (com-pan-dyum) noun. Collective noun for a group
of friends that exist in different social groups.
Comumnist (com-um-nisht) noun. Someone who writes professionally in a regular feature with an overtly socialist leaning.
Conception (con-chep-tion) noun. Becoming one’s own ancestor
thanks to the paradoxes of time travel. E.g. “Oh what a lovely
conception we are having.”
Condone (cond-own) noun. When an action is considered not
necessarily illegal, but frowned upon as immoral, unjust or
just downright wrong. The word is derived from the prefix
“Con”, meaning “against” or “lie”, and “done”, which is the
past participle of the verb “to do” meaning “to do things”. E.g.
“I condone the practice of smoking old people for sport.” See
Prohibit
Conjunctivitis (con-junk-tiv-eye-tis) noun. Affliction caused by
an overreliance on joining words like “and” and “or” and not
using a comma when it should be employed. There is no single
cure, but it is often grown out of.
Conscience (con-schonse) noun. Science of morality. Specifically,
the science of fooling morality to skew all your own actions to
appear beneficial and just, no matter their real value.
30 C
Content (con-tent) noun. Cultural output that many people produce in their jobs. These empty words fill websites and other
forms of media, but are never actually entertaining, and instead simply nulling the feeling that there is a hole inside that
wants to no longer be bored.
Coots (coo-ts) noun. Offensive term for a rich person.
Cornography (corn-og-raph-ee) noun. Explicit material documenting the sexual reproduction of farmed vegetables.
Coughee (coff-ee) noun. Phlegm (flem).
Cous (coo) noun. Similar to the use of “we” to include people
with yourself as a plural subject, “cous” can be used for a grain
of rice to talk about itself and other grains of rice. E.g. “the
rouce said “me and my rice friends, cous are looking forward
to being boiled.”” See Rouce
Cowgummy (gow-cummy) noun. Unswallowable plastic sweet
that one can masticate to gain fresh breath and an upset stomach. Coy (kgoy) adj. Like a fish. E.g. “His date was going exceedingly well, thanks to his tactic of playing coy.”
Crab (crab) noun. Vehicle of choice for an underwater taxi service. E.g. “I got some crabs waiting downstairs, let’s go – I am
a fish.”
Crap (gkrap) noun. Genre of music in which hip-hop is sped up
quickly, thereby deteriorating its sound.
Crastinate (cras-tin-8) verb. To spend time not doing something
one enjoys as one is so crippled by fear of the pressure of deadlines. See Procrastinate
Cross-bagging (cross-bag-ing) verb. To use the incorrect brand of
plastic bag when shopping.
Cuck (cuck) noun. Rank smell of a recently dead cuckoo. Cuck
paste is a kind of pâté that is eaten as a delicacy in some parts
of the world.
C 31
Cuckoon (cuck-oon) noun. Fleshy egg in which a cuckoo lives.
Very few people have ever been inside a cuckoon, but those
who have claim it is at least seven foot high and smells of cuck.
Cushioniste (coush-shone-east) noun. Someone who makes and
designs cushions for a living.
Cye (sigh) noun. The stuff that comes out of your body when you
pick at something – it isn’t pus, but it isn’t blood either.
32 C
D
(d)
(dee)
The letter “d” is one of the most interesting of all the letters. It has an informed wisdom over any given word. This power
can never be overstated. For many, it represents a distinguished
past – the weight of knowledge that is transferred as much by the
constant rhythm of the wind, as it is by the tone of the speaker. It
comes as no surprise that in many languages other than English
the word “God” is begun with a “d” – hence the English word
“deity”, literally, a kind of “City of God”. Similarly epic in nature, “discipline”, “destruction” and “death” are ideas which are
all dominated by a soft, subtle strength that is never so crass as to
pierce the air, but beats like a dull drum, with a power unrivalled
in the linguistic kingdom. The strength of these words is inevitable, inescapable – and all this can be derived from “d”.
In common grammar, we know “d” as the cousin that aids
verbs through the passage of time. Adding an “-ed” onto most
verbs, converts them into having occurred. If you are walking,
later you will have walked, if you are talking you will soon have
talked – and when something is dangerous, it will eventually
become dangeroused. This is simply how time works, and it is
through “d” that we must come to terms with our inevitable mortality.
The key to “d” is in its softness, the letter itself being dominated by curves; rarely even does the lower case “d” feel like it
has any straight edge at all. It is often reproduced as cursive, and
perceived by the eye to slip at the end – like safety scissors that
are designed never to hurt, and are incapable of even injuring
paper.
This gentle, curved quality of “d” is compounded nowhere
more than its use in ladies’ underwear. Although few really understand the system that is used, the larger, more curved breast is
D 33
held with a “DD” bra, or “2D” as it is known in the film industry.
The third dimension, “3D”, recently popularised by modern cinema, refers to the use of third breasted characters, whose inclusion has proven popular amongst film goers. Many critics fail to
understand exactly what is added to a film’s narrative by doubling
the cleavage, but you can’t argue with gate receipts.*
Interestingly, the “dd” formulation of breast underwear design can also be applied to grammar – those hoping for a more
sensuous description of the past are able to utilise this to end
verbs caught in time. One could, for example, say they “enjoydd
the ice cream” – adding a certain – risqué sexual vibe to proceedings, and subtly doubling the sense of a more wistful time.
Along these lines, the letter “d” has found itself being accosted by the many geeks and nerds who squander their time
playing games like Dungeons with Dragons and Elf Sandbox Justice
III using specially crafted “12D” – these are 12 sided dice (or how
ever many sides one has the need or patience to count up to – the
record is an epic 645 sided beast that featured in the popular television game show Dice Hard). These fantasy adventures emphasise
actions that are not brutal, or even factual. Instead, players parcipate through imagination – literally using the soft strength of the
mind, that make these games synonymous with god-like activity,
and control.
It is no wonder then that a lot of people love the “d”.
* Technically, one can argue with gate receipts, but they are unlikely to give you
the satisfaction of arguing back.
34 D
D (dee) noun. Chemical pill that is supposed to be the drug Ecstasy
but turns out not to work. This has since become popular as
people enjoy a night getting “high” from placebos – without
the fear of overdosing.
Dabba (dabba) noun. Stone-age phrase meaning “very happy”.
Daffodils (daff-oh-dills) noun. Term for a depressed penis that
although erect, is unlikely to be of much use. E.g. “I’m really
sorry, but this is just a daffodils – maybe we should try later. Or I could arrange to take the exam some other time next
month? It’s up to you vicar.”
Dame (day-m) exclamation. Word given to someone as a gift
for being pretty cool.
Dandylion (dan-dee-lie-on) noun. The king of the jungle, reduced
to a cultural cretin from being cooped up in captivity too long.
Enjoys the works of Elton John and Baudelaire more than participating in the usual activities for a lion in the wild (eating
meat, killing things, drinking at bars with friends, and listening to Enya). E.g. “People would stare at the dandylion but he
was too sad to stare back, so instead he just sighed, and bled
grass”.
Dappest (dap-ist) superl. Most dapper, as in well-dressed.
Decanter (de-cant-er) verb. To slow down.
Deej (dee-j) noun. Someone who is picking music on a playlist
for a party; the act of taking control of a computer at an event
to play music. See DJ
Deference (day-fer-ance) verb. To remove a reference you had
previously given to someone, for a job or house, etc.
Deinty (dain-tee) adj. Something small. The word is derived from
something being reminiscent of or similar to Carol Deint. Lord
Deint, a man who was instrumental in organising the vocation
of industrialised fishing (for clothing as opposed to food), was
notorious for having small feet, fingers and features, including
D 35
a face-to-head ratio that looked like a spring roll sat on a medium sized car park.
Dennis the Menis (day-nis-da-may-nis) noun. Now cancelled
comic book for adults, which followed the Menis Dennis and
the various unsavoury escapades he got up to. See Menis
Devonhams (day-von-am-s) noun. Store that sells items procured
from Devon.
Diarrhoea (die-oh-ree-ah) noun. Daily splurge of nonsense one
regurgitates when discussing one’s day, either to others or to
a journal.
Dictionary (dick-shone-ree) noun. Game in which players must
describe a word by writing other words on a piece of paper. A
linguistic alternative to pictionary. See Wordbook
Dingle (din-gel) noun. Small electronic device which has been
made so small that it is effectively redundant by being lost too
frequently to be useful. Often an inexpensive USB device that
one picks up for free and assumes to be handy, but which ends
up being another thing left on the floor, filed under “for the
bin”.
Dinkle (din-kel) noun. Tiny penis.
Disease (dis-ease) noun. Something which is more difficult than
it needs to be. E.g. “He throttled the iguana with disease”.
DJ (dee-jay) noun. Professional who mixes music live. Many
people are confused by this term – old people (over 40 years
of age) believe “DJ” is short for “Dinner Jacket” (confusingly
referring to an entire posh outfit that is essentially a smarter
version of a suit, but looking no different from a suit, especially under the dim lighting of occasions that call for this attire).
Younger people (25-39) understand the term correctly, but arrive at this through a shortening of “Disc Jockey” – complete
nonsense as there are rarely horses involved. Those under 25
imagine that the bizarre act of playing music at a party counts
as Djing, but they are misinformed. See Discus Master
36 D
Discent (dthis-scent) verb. To go down a hill – angrily.
Disc Jockey (disc-joc-key) noun. Someone who plays music on
a horse.
Discus (dthis-cuss) noun. Any flat, circular media – e.g. a cd, vinyl or musical frisbee.
Discus Master (dthis-cuss-mar-stair) noun. Someone who plays,
curates and mixes music with circle discs.
Discussion (dthis-cuss-shone) noun. Result of a head injury were
the experiencer sees things more clearly, and with great clarity
and cognitive ability. The opposite of a concussion.
Do (do) noun. Stone-age phrase meaning “now work is over”.
Dogg (dog) noun. Animal that raps.
Dope (dthoughpe) noun. Silly or stupid pope.
Dowel (do-wel) noun. Large accumulation of money.
DP (dee-pee) awmuf. Dinner party (often filmed).
Draughts (jrafts) noun. Dangerous game where players must try
to outdo the opponent by drinking pints of ale – pale ales on
one side, darker ales on the other. Any tie-break is decided
with a penalty shooter-out.
Dread (dread) noun. Fear of a bad haircut which leads one either
to grow one’s mane unnecessarily long, or to cut one’s own
hair, and be left with a bad haircut, but a little bit more money
to waste on something you don’t need. E.g. “he was full of butter, and it made him say stupid things, to stupid things – but
this should not mean he was no longer a man of the cloth”
Drinken (drin-ken) noun. Present state of being full of alcohol,
but not under the effects of being drunk.
Dripping (der-ip-ping) noun. Much-treasured 1970s staple for
D 37
those who feel nostalgic for family roast dinners. A muchprized gelatinous liquid derived from juices found on the back
of the sink.
Dross (dross) noun. Character name for the evil twin, in some of
the later series of F.R.I.E.N.D.S. (standing for Frolics Recounted
from Interesting and Endearing New-writers, Devised (into a)
Sitcom). Instead of being a kind, thoughtful paleontologist,
played by David Schwimmer, the character Dross was depicted
as a mentally unstable and potentially dangerous paleontologist.
Druggery (druj-airy) noun. Constant boredom reached when one
is in a constant state of being “off one’s tits” without reason.
D’tour (dee-tour) noun. Introduction to one’s genitals.
Ducket (duke-it) noun. Amount of money that is spent whenever
you don’t care, and are happy to pay for something you don’t
need.
Dudd (dud) noun. Tribute act, to any popular entertainer, whose
performance distances you from your attachment to those being impersonated.
Dumple (dum-pel) noun. Large mother-loaf of potato that can
be sliced and eaten with butter, or baby-balled and cooked in
stew as dumplings.
Dunt (doont) noun. A stupid cunt.
Dustard (dust-ard) noun. Sauce made from dead skin and other
detritus one can find on the floor. It is part of the -ard family
of sauces, the poor brother to the bold and brash mustard, the
cowardly yellow custard, and of course rustard. See Rustard
D.I.U. (dee.eye.you) awmuf. Name given to those that drink
while driving by those rejecting claims that they themselves
are driving drunk, but have actually been drinking (but are no
longer driving).
38 D
D.U.I. (dee.you.eye) awmuf. Those practicing their golf swing
while drinking.
D.Y.I. (dee.why.eye) awmuf. Informal name given by some to
people looking to kill themselves without paying for help from
professionals. Abbreviated from the phrase “Do Yourself In”.
Dzeko (jeck-go) noun. Unregulated pet lizard. Cheap knock off
which should be avoided at all costs.
D 39
E
(e)
(eee)
The letter “e” is one of the most interesting of all the letters.
As one of the simplest letters in the alphabet, its history dates
back many years, when it was forged into a kind of everyman’s
letter by early philosophers working with deadly hot ink. Since
then it has been gleefully employed whenever and wherever anyone wants to – becoming the letter of everything, everyone and
most importantly of all, the letter of equality. And what’s more,
you don’t have to be stingy, as it can be used for freeeeee.
Its use throughout history is more complex. The letter fell
out of favour in the early medieval period, as religious organizations attempted to stamp out its use, seeking to put an increasingly cynical generation of plebeians and peasants in their place,
i.e. under them. Until this time, serfs had been accustomed to
using the letter on a whim, and in many cases even for explicit
behaviour. To combat this, clergymen encouraged the use of the
word “evil”, which was eventually bandied about like nobody’s
business, resulting in whole generations scared to contemplate “e”
thanks to its new, perceived connection with evil. It is worth noting that at this time, the business of spreading vocabulary for a fee
was run by the Nobodys (a family clan that few remember thanks
to an event in the late seventeenth century when Nobody after
Nobody was silenced, killed and harvested for reasons Nobody’s
couldn’t fathom).
In the eighteenth century, rationalist thinkers attempted to
rescue this abandoned class of illiterates, heralding the return of
an emancipatory letter and placing it firmly at the front of their
banner for their movement: enlightenment. Spearheading the
group was David Hume, the doubting philosopher, who saw to
it that everything that could be questioned was questioned and
questioned again. His intellectual height, it was said, towered
40 E
twice above any other, and his pockets were twice as deep still
– which was important, as his tasks were so momentous they required twice the length of pencil. Next to him was Adam Smith, a
mathematician and the father of Economics. His son, Economics,
later changed his name to Tom.
Finally, there was Robert McElrington, an ordinary boy
who joined the group after being bitten by a radioactive spider
scientist, and found himself transformed into what many at the
time believed to be a superhero. Almost instantly hair grew on
his arms, his voice grew deeper, and a lump lodged in his throat,
while elsewhere his testicles fell slightly, to hang below a penis
which grew to the size of a spider. From that day (around his 13th
birthday) he vowed to find a cure for rabies (as he had contracted
rabies). Today however, we better know McElrington as the inventor of electricity, discovered when he got drunk and pissed
into a toaster. In this historic enlightenment gesture of experimentation, he, alas, expired a genius.
At the turn of the nineteenth century, pioneers building on
this movement of free and radication thinkers started to employ
the letter in pairs as confidence in “e” returned. They excelled
themselves when steel was born, and built buildings taller than
the sun. Beer was put into mass production, marketed as a cure
for being unhappy and unattractive. The invention of beer revolutionised the public house industry, which had until then simply
housed parched men sat at tables out-bullshitting for no purpose,
and with increasing annoyance for all concerned, with nothing
else to do with themselves. Our relationship to bees was changed
as well, after they were uncovered living in trees; before anyone
had the audacity to climb trees, bees had been harvested for bee
juice by catching and squeezing their abdomens and sucking on
their sticky poison. Now, people could steal their honey, and everyone was happy (except the bees).
In the modern era, the letter “e” has found a different kind
of popularity. In the 1990s a cheeky chemist, with an enlightened
attitude and an enthusiasm for linguistics, created a new drug
called “Ecstasy” that tried to epitomise the joy and freedom of the
letter “e”. Originally, the pills were hand-painted with the letter
on their back, but thanks to the commercial success of these small
white charms, they are now mass produced, with whole teams of
underpaid staff spraying on the letter “e”, sometimes at a rate of 7
E 41
or 8 pills at a time. Recent government reports into the drug have
suggested that the widespread availability of Ecstasy in dancing
pharmaceuticals and travelling post offices can account for a 95%
drop in sadness with a similar percentage of beats-dropping too.
Today, it is passed around as an anti-aphrodisiac, for those whose
genitals are simply too hard for sex.
42 E
Easter (east-er) noun. Religious celebration of all things oriental.
Eastwood (east-wood) noun. Collective noun for flint. E.g.
“Bugger, I’ve bought too much stone – I only wanted an
Eastwood of flint. Not again.”
Eboknee (eb-oh-nee) noun. Black bone of elephants traded as
both equal and polar opposite to rhino “ivory”.
Eee (eye) noun. Original spelling of the word “eye”.
Eel-mail (eel-may-yell) noun. Communications sent via eels.
Commercially unsuccessful, as the ink got wet underwater.
‘Eel-mail (eel-may-yell) noun. Form of communication between
women from Essex on a night out, transferred via the rhythmic
beating of shoes on floor. The floors at most Essex nightclubs
are connected to seismographs, and the transcripts from some
Saturday nights out are published, often unedited, under the
pen name Stephen King.
E’ers (e-er-s) noun. Archaic; the flappy protrusions of skin from
the face – or head – which collect vibrations from the air to be
received and analysed as sound.
Effing (eff-ing) noun. To add the letter “f” to something to make
it seem more dangerous. See Jeffing
Efrybody (eff-ree-bod-ee) noun. Term used to denote all within
earshot, but not simply everyone in the world that is alive.
Egg (egg) noun. Ovum or female sperm, often in a kind of casing which is required for one half of the reproductive process.
This is not included here as a new word, nor is a redefinition
provided, but it seems remiss to not enjoy the word “egg” for a
moment. Not only is it the simplest funny word in the English
language, and a rather scrummy breakfast food (though the
fact that some bright spark considered the egg an apt addition
to breakfast seems bizarre when this innovation is juxtaposed
to its original function being an offspring carrier), but few
other words force you to contemplate the essence of repetiE 43
tion and the banality of reproduction in the face of eternity
quite like the word “egg” does. And why is this? Aside from
its shape, often circular or oval without end or peak, the word
itself never finishes. You can try, oh and how you try, to end
the word “egg”, but all your throat can do is squeeze tightly
around a “g” whilst you hope that the hiss of escaping air is
obstructed. But in spite of your efforts the “g” merely seeps
into silence, and never finishes on your tongue.
Egregious (egg-ree-jious) noun. Word used when one wishes to
insult someone offencelessly, by using a word which cannot be
understood, but assumed by the offendee to be harmless.
Elegent (elle-air-gant) noun. Rather pretty or refined elephant,
probably royal or well-educated. Many erroneously believe
that elephants never forget, but the truth of the matter is that
none can remember the last time one of them forgot something.
El Grave (elle-grave) noun. Place near the Mediterranean where
most stone is mined for use in crazy paving.
Enigmatic (a-nig-matt-ick) noun. Puzzle which solves itself.
Erecterate (e-reck-tour-et) noun. Potential audience of people
the porn industry hopes to attract to their sites to masturbate.
The erecterate have a lot of say in how the websites are run,
as many within the industry will go to any lengths to attract
those with niche interests who are yet to join the Wankerate.
See Wankerate
Erection (e-rex-shun) noun. Performance of a ritual in which the
egos of some are promoted and raised to public office, at which
the rest of us are left to bare our backsides and prepare to be
fucked, apparently to our frustrated enjoyment.
Erut (e-rut) noun. Mythological god of uncompromising honesty.
The half-wolf brother of Eros and son of the moon, Erut was
known for stumbling into awkward situations and saying what
is what – with mixed consequences. E.g. “You’re fat, you’re
ugly and I fancy the shit out of you.”
44 E
Escalopology (es-cap-ol-o-gee) noun. Study of turning meat into
breaded shapes such as turkey dinosaurs.
Etcetra (ate-set-ra) noun. Word which cannot be meaningfully
followed. This word should be noted not only as it is often confusingly used to signify the point at which one has run out of
ideas, but because it is also incidentally on my list of favourite
Latin abbreviations, e.g. i.e., etc..
Eterny (e-turn-knee) noun. God of family. The character appeared
in the Cruel Justice comic book series – and it is implicitly suggested that he became all-powerful when he was bitten by a
radioactive family.
Eurt (eh-urt) noun. When the reverse is true.
Excite (ex-sight) noun. To remove a footnote.
Exsortic (ex-sore-tick) adj. How you’d expect to describe someone if they were in a popular band you’ve never heard of. May
be interpreted as a feeling of sexuality for someone who hasn’t
encountered the natural progression of sexuality, while also
demonstrating a certain “unknowable charm”. (That might
have been a typo you saw on Twitter – Ed.)
Eye’s cream (aye-screy-me) noun. Cold liquid or gel that is employed in self-defence when one is outwitted in a conversation
or situation.
E 45
F
(f)
(eff)
The letter “f” is one of the most interesting of all the letters.
It is rudeness personified, the reason one blushes when “chuff”
leaks out of one’s mouth – it doesn’t matter that the word has
an innocent meaning, it still feels like you are spouting a sordid
expletive and makes you want to run to your nearest 24-hour confessional and down a few pints of Hail Marys. For this feeling, you
have only “f” to thank.
The ferocious and unrelenting quality of “f” is so omniscient
that many hold a hallowed place in speech for the “f-word”.
Incredibly, very few people know what this “f-word” actually
stands for, with many assuming the “f” in this case stands for
“fuck”. But there is nothing disgusting or naughty about “fucking”
or “getting fucked” as both are incredibly enjoyable, and some
would argue, ultimately necessary for the continuation of life for
any standard worth living. It may well be explicit, but it is certainly not something to ignore or be offended by. So corrupting is the
influence of “f” that we have turned our back on fucking for no
good reason. Clearly, what the “f-word” represents is elsewhere.
The holy grail of linguistics at the moment is to work out exactly what is meant by the “f-word”. Some have claimed it could
stand for “frubber” – an illegal narcotic developed from the leaf
of the Frub-Frub. Its long, purple stalks, grow downwards, and
darken with age, eventually developing a foul mucus on its stems
which drip and burn holes in the floor. The resultant narcotic
works for a 24 hour period, in which time one will experience unrivalled adulation, elation, regret, paranoia, disappointment, malaria, a dry tongue, sadness, a numb feeling in the elbow, ennui,
the genitals of a consenting stranger, the sensation of being tickled behind one’s eyes, regret again and finally tiredness – before
eventually standing on one leg in a public place, closing your eyes
46 F
for one last time and exiting from this world to the next through
a metaphorical door marked “Fine: £200. Only to be used in an
emergency”. For many, frubber remains the only “enjoyable” passage of suicide, but for religious opponents, the Frub-Frub plant
remains the closest living thing to the devil’s fingers – despite the
fact that God made all living things.
Interestingly, “devilry” and “deviance” were both originally
spelled with an “f” instead of a “v”, but fearful pilgrims couldn’t
face using the letters when they needed to refer to the sinning
of others – many claimed that when merely approaching an “f”
with their tongue, they would feel their faces possessed by an
evil, malevolent presence which would lead them into the woods
to do naughty things when alone. As such, the letter was replaced
with another, and the possessions apparently stopped – although
few recognised that in the brouhaha in trying to remove the letter
from circulation, many of their lives had been ruined by wealthy
landowners turning their homes into high-end student accommodation and replacing workers with models of men made from
straw, spit and old receipts.
Though the times may have changed, the superstitions have
not. This is most visible than in schools, where failed work by
students is branded with an “f”, which until recent years signified
that the child was considered a heathen and that their soul was
already burning in the fiery pits of hell. Now, although the tradition remains, teachers are encouraged to suggest to these children
that they should try harder, and that their souls are in fact merely
knocking on the gates of hell asking for directions.
F 47
Face (face) noun. The head.
Fall’s Gold (fool-sgoald) noun. The fallen leaves of trees. This
term is partly to help the transition for American audiences
into finally removing the word “fall” from their vocabulary.
We all know that Autumn is a much more beautiful word, as it
seems to nest and to fall comfortably asleep towards the end,
and even begins with the chemical symbol for the gold colour
that the leaves turn. However, the true derivation of the term
is from successful alchemists who discovered that you could
actually make gold from metal you found in the ground; from
this discovery, rumours started to spread that you could turn
autumn leaves into something more precious, and the term
was born.
Fangle (van-gul) verb. To cover or submerge something in the
bile and bullshit of modernity.
Fappacino (fap-pa-chi-no) noun. Any liquid consumed during a
lustful engagement with a cup.
Fapster (fap-ster) noun. Someone who masturbates over pornographic videos pirated from the internet.
Faq (fack) noun. Page of questions that someone would want to
be asked of them but no-one ever does.
Fearworm (fear-worm) noun. Irrational phobia that plays over
and over again in your head for no good reason.
Feat (feet) verb. Scientific term meaning “to mix with a part of”,
often adopted by the music industry.
Febeardary (feb-ear-dairy) noun. Popular month of the year in
which men (and some women) grow their facial hair to look
stupid and raise money for people whose birthday is on 29th
February.
Feck (feck) noun. Energy, spirit, or jouissance that make cells
move and eyes blink. E.g. “Did you see the feck of that man?”.
48 F
Feckless (feck-less) adj. Something lacking in feck.
Felicitous (fell-is-i-tus) adj. Like a cat.
Ferrere Roches (fair-rair-aye-row-sh) noun. Type of Roches (paper rocks) made from iron again, and again.
Fife (fife) noun. Football game for computers and consoles based
around the Scottish teams that aren’t included in the main
“fifa”.
Filofax (f-eye-low-facts) noun. Pastry journal.
Fish (f-ish) noun. A bit like a “fuh”.
Fishy (f-ish-y) noun. A lot like a bit like a “fuh”.
Fisting (fis-ting) adverb. Act of hitting someone in the face with
your fists. E.g. “There I was having a lovely time on a Saturday
when, entirely unannounced, a man I had never met fisted me
with great acronym.” See Acronym & Boxing
Fistmonger (fist-mun-gar) noun. Someone who trains people to
fist professionally, and a handful of other tasks. See Fisting
Flange (fe-lange) noun. Delicious desert sponge.
Flattery (flat-air-y) noun. Battery that has run out of power. E.g.
“Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery”.
Flavella (fla-vel-la) noun. Pierceable piece of sexy skin.
Fleece (fleas) noun. Jumper which is advertised at a much higher price than it should really be.
Flip-floperation (flip-flop-air-aye-shone) noun. Podiatry edition
of the board game Operation in which the game’s a foot.
Florum (floor-um) noun. A single piece of butter.
Flour (flow-er) noun. Plant, which can be made into bread.
F 49
Forbles (four-bells) noun. Problems found with contemporary
economic or financial journalism.
Fortunate (four-tune-ate) noun. Someone with an uncanny ability to construct forts.
Foxes (fox-es) noun. Type of sweet. See Foxi
Foxi (fox-i) noun. The plural of foxes. See Foxes
Fridge-magnet (fridge-mag-net) noun. Magnet screwed into the
wall of a kitchen for hanging a fridge on a wall, often done so
that fat children can’t eat what is inside.
Frontrhea (front-rear) noun. Affliction of the genitals creating
discharge which is, if nothing else, unsightly. Formerly referred to as gonnorhea. Opposite of rearrhea. See Rearrhea
Fruitless (fer-oot-les) noun. When someone has no fruit.
50 F
Flip-floperation
Fuckbus (fuck-bpuss) noun. Any kind of vehicle driven by someone who doesn’t give a damn, but has passengers to talk to: often passengers he doesn’t want on there. E.g. “Well if you don’t
stop complaining, you can get off this fuckbus”. Curiously,
once all passengers are out of the car, the vehicle loses this
term to be renamed a car (or bus if it is a bus) once more.
Funty (fun-tee) noun. Something which is full of joy.
Furry (fur-ree) noun. Small magical creature that has wings.
Cannot but help performing magical sex acts, despite being
covered with (comparatively) lengthy hair.
Fwar-Gwar (fois-gois) noun. Leftovers at a restaurant which are
puréed and served again to customers at a heavily inflated
price. Animal lobbyists are often found campaigning against
the practice, as many chefs get so annoyed by patrons not finishing their meals, that they often fist a goose to relieve the
stress. See Fist
Fzip (fstzip) noun. Musical instrument made from clever manipulation of a zip fastner.
F 51
G
(g)
(gee)
The letter “g” is one of the most interesting of all the letters.
Medieval historians – that is, modern historians who specialise in
medieval history and not backward-thinking academics of history
who do not believe in rationality – are often keen to make much
of the letter “g”, due to its centrality in a lot of the literature we
read from the era. Medieval stories are renowned for their fictional retelling of factual events. Our magical, nearly pre-historical,
mythology is often filled with tales of Gods, and Gold, of Goblins
and draGons, Ghosts and Garish Ghouls from the medieval era –
harking back to a much simpler time.
Medieval era printmaking was obsessed with “g”. The letter
was clearly important within storytelling. Stacks and shelves of
monks working night and day were sent to practice their intricate
illuminations, to an incredible level of sophistication, on the letter “g”. Both soft and sharp, it was a source for the drawing of all
letters. Approximations for every other letter can be found in “g”
– you can try it yourself (if you can’t find them all then you are
doing it wrong). It is from this that symbolism we get the suffix
“-ing” – the ending of doing harking back to the adventuring of
medieval storying. Knights – a word which prior to spelling standardization could be written as Gnights, or Kgnights, and even
GknIkghgs – were fighting, drinking, riding, swimming, fisting,
raping, pillaging, protecting, castling, glorifying, hiding, running,
bleating, bleeding, bleeping, groping, climbing, finding, sourcing,
arousing, jousting, burning, bridging and gaddabouting at every
hour of the day, and their exhausting living could only be sustained with the help of “g”, the letter of adventuring.
But derivations are strange: in medieval times, they themselves were merely borrowing their use of the letter “g” from a
previous age, loaning their stories and retelling their japes, and
52 G
relying on a previous generation for their stories. Where then did
these original uses of “g” come from? As it turns out, this previous
culture of the 8th century, from which the medieval zone derived
its culture, was itself borrowing the use of the letter from a previous culture, that of the 4th century, regurgitating those stories as
their own. Professors of historectomy (the study of perceptions of
history within history) have been struggling to locate the original source of medieval narrative for millennia, and have yet to
find an end to their investigations. Therefore we must subject our
commonly held beliefs about medieval history to a devastating
critique – and realise that the medieval period, which we see as
formative to modern history, was itself concerned with a culture
of re-imaginings, repetitions and shyness at the possibility of its
own originality. People of that time even had their own notion of
the post-modern, the “confunded moderning” – which was itself
borrowed from an earlier era.
Much of the modern malaise can be seen to emerge here –
feudal lifestyles echo the precarious employment we find today,
and it was here feasting was discovered, now essential for obesity. Chaucer’s tales resonate when you realise they were a kind
of reality TV – watching and retelling the bawdy lives of people
in the public eye. Centuries before the onset of national success
and celebrity, it was celebrity types which excited the populace –
the blacksmith, the tailorsmith, the horsesmith, the milliner and
the idiot were famous throughout the land as established types,
despite existing as different people in different communities. The
occupations themselves were scrutinised personas, and Chaucer
gleefully fed public lust for archetypal gossip.
Today, “g” is closely associated with hip hop and gangster
rap. One could easily describe these men and women as merely
Gnights of the modern age.
G 53
Gaelic Bread (gay-lick) noun. Celtic bread that you only get in
Blackpool and other northern towns.
Gake (gar-kay) noun. Baked goods inspired by homosexuality.
Gameshow (game-show) noun. Local village celebration or annual market for the display of organically skinned rabbits,
plucked pheasants and ol-deer. A sort of zoo of the dead. See
Ol-Deer
Gancer (gan-zer) noun. Good kind of cancer where your hair
grows thick and strong, and you eat an inordinate amount of
food without putting on any weight at all.
Gastronomist (gash-tron-o-mist) noun. Visible residue left from
gaseous discharge of the anus. See Pharting
Gayo (gay-o) noun. Someone who is homosexual. Adopted from
its original use in the theme tune to the Flintstones, the term
gay should not be used to delineate “happy” but be firmly reserved for those who participate in same-sex sexuality. See
Gayonnaise
Gayonnaise (gay-o-nays) noun. Fun, spunky term to describe
ejaculated sperm outside of the penis, when employed as a
garnish in a sandwich or other cuisine. As an inoffensive term
it has led to a spate of hilarious lunch-based pranks which this
dictionary does not endorse, but which sparked interest from
molecular gastronomists. Can also be used simply in exchange
for other common words for male ejaculate. E.g. “Semen”,
“cum”, “cock juice”, “nozzle jozzle”, “white blood”, “hot sex
sauce”, “mangerine”, “jackson cherry”, “spew”, “jank”, “funk
spray”, “man jam” “lustard” and “conwankjuate”. See volume
2 for more.
Geezer (gee-zer) noun. Any arrogant and aggressive water feature.
Gello (gel-lo?) exclamation. Informal positive greeting for the
beginning of conversations shortened from goodhello, i.e. the
opposite of goodbye. See Bello
54 G
Ghander (gan-der) noun. To quickly look up Ghandi (jan-dee),
the film or the person, just for a vague understanding of what
he was all about and to check he wasn’t one of those good eggs
who turned out to be a bad egg.
Ghist (jist) noun. When you get the idea of what a ghost is saying
to you, despite ghosts not actually existing.
Ghost Sandwich (gooust-san-dwit-dge) noun. Sandwich reduced
in price, which is consumed in transit between shop and destination and which does not count as a meal. Can refer to any
food that is consumed but not considered as calories.
Giblet (gib-let) noun. Gold cup made from the innards of poultry.
In 2010, the term became popular as children demanded it as
a Christmas gift thanks to the boy-wizard book “Giblet of Fire”.
Ginja (jin-ja) noun. Scottish warrior who lives in the shadows.
Giraughts (ge-rafts) noun. Dangerous game between giraffes
where players must try to out-do the other by drinking pints of
grass. See Draughts
Git (jhit) noun. Curious detritus with an unknown consistency,
found in the belly button. E.g. “She sucked the git like a melon
sucks a cucumber on holiday.”
Gitsy (jhit-see) noun. Worker whose job revolves around git. See
Git
Give Face (give-face) verb. Sexual term where someone snogs
someone else for a significant amount of time, and then pretends after it is finished that nothing happened.
Gland (ger-land) noun. A gloved hand.
Glandular (ger-land-u-la) adj. Something of, or relating to, a
gloved hand.
Glandular Fever (ger-land-u-la-fee-ver) noun. Illness developing
from the untreated, sweaty residue from a gloved hand. See
G 55
Gland
Glasses (glar-says) noun. Plural of glass, a see-through material
made, incredibly, from hot sand. Despite its qualities being described as “hot” and “see-through”, glass is not as ideal a material suited to the production of lingerie as one might expect.
Glitzbanger (ger-lit-sss-bang-or) noun. Someone who travels
through space. The galaxy, the universe and space are a world
unlike any we have ever experienced, and offer the infinite
potential and irreconcilable promise of the future that we cannot fathom. Replaces the old word “Astronaut” (astro-naught)
which was just too boring for something so wonderful.
Glod (ger-lod) noun. Name of the gelatinous overlord who prices
products. Glod used to sit backstage in HMV and would be
asked by staff, labelling their wares, for the price of a DVD, or
CD. It was Glod who would decide its fate on an almost arbitrary basis. This is an example of a typical exchange:
HMV Employee: “how much for a box set of the
Wire?”
GLOD: “45 pounds.”
HMV Employee #2: “Sex and the City the Movie
DVD?”
GLOD: “12.99.”
HMV Employee #1: “Coldplay Album Parachutes?”
GLOD: “Special offer, £8 reduced to £9.”
HMV Employee #1: “but that’s more expensive than
i-”
GLOD: “Kill him. And sell his balls for £2.50 each, or
£4 for a pair.”
Glorypork (ger-lore-eee-pour-q) noun. Any kind of dish made of
pork that can be eaten as celebration for any success in life.
Paradoxically, it could be consumed merely as a reward for
eating pork – which can continue inspiring itself in perpetuity, which many agree is not in itself a terrible thing. A kosher
alternative made of bread is available, but it doesn’t lend itself
to glory particularly well, and as such has not been taken up
56 G
by the Jewish community.
Glovely (ger-love-er-lee) adj. Term used to positively describe
hand apparel. E.g. “Those would be glovely if you didn’t pick
your nose so much, and so often, and so deep. Actually, I’d like
to hire you – welcome to my boat town”
Glutteny (glut-onny) noun. When one pigs out on things made
from wheat, specifically when one is wheat-intolerant (or pretends to be).
Gnight (ger-night) noun. medieval spelling of Knight. Cannot be
used in connection with chess.
Googleo (goo-gel-o) noun. When someone finds exactly what
they want using Google’s popular search engine. See Bingo
Gooseberries (gooz-ber-ease) noun. Testicles of a male goose.
Gooseberry (gooz-ber-ee) noun. Single testicle of a male goose.
Goosebump (gooz-bum-p) noun. When a car hits a large bird,
and then other tyres continue to traipse over the corpse.
Gooseverry Jam (gooz-ver-ee-cham) noun. The entirely vile
sound made when a male goose gets one of its testicles caught
on something.
Gradius (ger-aye-dee-us) noun. Length of time most casual gamers would spend on an arcade machine. This is measured as
half the distance between the start and the end of the third
level.
Gradon (gray-don) noun. Mythical beast the size of a house,
which evolved to have a thick skin of scales on the inside, displaying its fleshy organs on the outside. Very easy to kill – a lot
harder to look at without becoming ill.
Gravyity (grav-er-tea) noun. Term used to measure the use of
sauce on a Sunday lunch.
G 57
Greature (greet-ure) exclamation. “Good job, animal maker.”
Grub (ger-ub) noun. Anything that is eaten in a reality television
show that you wouldn’t traditionally describe as food.
Guarden (gar-dee-en) noun. Modern moat. Refers specifically to
any front area designed to ward off enemies and postmen. The
space is typified by an angry looking, unfinished patio protected by a gate that warns you of a dog you cannot hear, and
which you doubt exists.
Gubbins (gub-bins) noun. A useless thing which would not entertain a comatose turkey, often used in critical writing. E.g. “This
film was full of gubbins.”
Guffaw (guff-or) noun. Sound one makes when first smelling a
particularly bad fart. See Phart
Gusto (guz-toe) noun. Yellow sauce that makes any meal taste
better, especially if it had been burnt or ruined by a poor chef,
but which only works if one cannot see what one is eating.
58 G
Gradon
G 59
H
(h)
(haitch)
The letter “h” is one of the most interesting of all the letters.
Perhaps the most disgusting and vile letters in all language – and
I do not simply mean the English language here, but in all formulations of orthography – the letter “h” is a tricksy character, one
which lurks in the shadows waiting for the perfect time to pounce.
Its influence is extensive, but it is rarely seen, and even more
rarely celebrated – which is the way it should be.
Much of the role of “h” is to twist and turn other letters,
against their will, into doing something they were not designed to
do. The letter “p” is a key example of this: on its own, it is a joy
and no mistake – I would happily “p” all day if I could. But with
an “h”, suddenly all phonetic structures fall away, and the letter
“p” becomes more akin to an “f” – “phoning” and “phasing” with
“phantoms” and their “phalluses”. The meaning of these words,
too, changes from the height of seriousness to disgusting, childish
or dangerous terms. For instance – a pallus, an important measuring device used in chartered accounting, is reduced to ridicule by
the inclusion of the letter “h”.
Unfortunately it is also the stuff of life. As humans (whose
ancestors, “umans”, a serious and logical species that many scientists see as the missing evolutionary link between apes and our
species today, were later corrupted by the introduction of the letter “h” into their society) we rely on water. Made up of two parts
hydrogen, one part oxygen, it is known as H2O, or “hydrogen permanganate”, a chemical which we are dependent on for existence.
Estimates in biology textbooks suggest that our bodies are made
up of anything from 60% to 110% water. Even here, within life’s
most basic element, we find oxygen – a very useful and serious gas
which is as sensible as any low density molecule distribution can
be – reduced into some frivolous and irresponsible liquid form by
60 H
the introduction of an “h” molecule.
But it is not only those of upstanding nature which “h” defiles. The result of adding an “h” to something which is already
a negative and dangerous reality on its own, in its un-h-ed form,
is widely documented as a disastrous process. The most obvious
example of this is the “h-bomb” – a piece of weaponry that, once
h-ed, became an unstoppable and devastating force. Developers of
this technology thought that its power would be so immense that
the idea of using it at all would be laughable. Many hoped this creation would end all suffering and war in one fell swoop, enabling
people to realise that the possibility of such power rendered all
life on earth nonsensical, and that its development would allow a
shift in cultural consciousness away from bizarre national politics
and towards a new world order where life would be nothing but
a brief blink in time that must be treasured and kept precious, not
destroyed for senseless gain in a game of life for which we make
our own pointless rules. It is testament to the spirited and unpredictable power of “h” that the actual result differed significantly
from scientific models to the extent that it did. Who would have
thought that the power of genocide could be misused so dramatically?
The limits of “h”’s wrath (see wrat) is unknowable. For all
the hubris surrounding the letter (see ubris) one cannot predict
the outcome of its use, and can only hope (see ope) that certain compounds do not occur. Combining the most powerful word
with “h” could be a calamitous affair – as such, there is no word
more dangerous, unreliable and potent than the word “chunt”.
We must remain thankful that no one has had the poor sense to
attempt to define or use it yet.
Stay vigilant: it could be the last word you hear (see ear).
H 61
Hacky Sack (hack-ee-saq) noun. Part of the brain where bad
jokes are kept, ready for emergencies.
Haggard (hag-gerd) noun. The look on someone’s face after completing a full Scottish breakfast too quickly. Precisely what
speed a full Scottish breakfast should be consumed depends on
your nationality, but rough estimates suggest it takes the layman 11 minutes to complete such an endeavour, while medical
experts suggest you take a full day to tackle such a meal. But
then again, what do they know (A lot. They are trained medical experts – Ed.).
Halkaline Jews (hal-ker-lines) noun. People of the Jewish community who are opposed to those who teach Judaism through
mysticism and faith, and instead simply prefer the lifestyle,
food and culture without all the “unnecessary bits about god”
(quotation from Alfredo Jatzi, leader of the Halkaline Jews).
Hamstring (ham-stir-ing) noun. Lunchbox snack made from Pork.
Handful (han-der-ful) noun. Collective noun for fists.
Headible (head-ib-bell) noun. Any object which can be hit with
the forehead in a jovial manner akin to that of a footballer, but
which is not sharp or dense enough to cause excessive pain.
Hennry (hen-ner-ree) noun. Where chickens are housed.
Henp (hen-pb) noun. Material made from female chickens, used
for scratchy clothing. E.g. “A henp sack?” she screamed, her
teeth incandescent with broccoli.”
Hephard (heff-ard) noun. A male shepherd. See Shepherd
Heriff (hair-if) noun. A male sheriff. See Sheriff
Hic (hick) noun. That Latin bug.
Hiccey (hick-ee) noun. A bite from a hic. See Hic
Hing (hing) noun. Sound a microwave makes when it “bings”.
62 H
Hic
Hippocracy (hip-pock-racey) noun. Any society run by large,
dangerous animals, priding itself on being things it isn’t.
Hippopottosesquipedaliafilia (hip-po-pot-o-says-qwi-per-dail-eeaa-fee-lee-a) noun. The love of long words. See UH!
Hippopottosesquipedaliaphobia (hip-po-pot-o-says-qwi-per-dailee-aa-foe-beer) noun. The fear of long words. It is clear from
this word that Hippopottosesquipedaliafiles hold all the power. See UH!
Historectomy (his-ter-ect-toe-me) noun. The study of the history
within history; literally, the removal of history (i.e. our perception of history) from (the context of) history to avoid the birth
of baby lies.
Hmesis (hem-ee-sis) noun. The deliberate production of phlegm
in your throat purely to be spat onto the ground or on other
people.
H 63
Home (home) verb. To drunkenly meander towards bed without
knowledge.
Hubba Hubba (hub-ba-hub-ba) noun. Growing business for old,
rich women from the east to import male brides from the west
for companionship, and potentially more (erotic lovemaking).
Hug (huck) noun. A cup for a dog, or pig, to drink hot liquids.
Hullo (hull-oh) exclamation. Greeting used when one needs an
excuse to say hello. This word needs to be more clearly defined, as its lazy employment as an alternative to “hello” felt
unsatisfying. The fact that people use it when they want to borrow or get something from you, or simply as a means to weasel
their way into a conversation, means that this word does not
need to change its usage much, just that it should be known
for what it is.
Hungst (hoo-ung-st) noun. Desire for food brought on by boredom, sated only by an over-indulgence of beige snacks.
Hurst (her-st) noun. Expensive artwork which has very little artistic value to anyone except for those with money to pay for it.
Huskey (hus-key) noun. A dog which tries to sound sexy.
Hymn (him) noun. Term used by masculinists hoping to remove
the connotations of the female from the word “men”.
Hyperlynx (hi-per-lin-gks) noun. Beautiful but dangerous animal
that changes colour when seen and seems to make time change
speed when watched. Smells like a thousand teenage boys.
64 H
Hyperlynx
H 65
I
(i)
(aye)
The letter “i” is one of the most interesting of all the letters.
It is one of the most-used letters in the world, precisely because it
refers to one’s self and demonstrates the necessary human imperative to be selfish. “I” do this and “I” do that, and “I” don’t care if
you want to know, that’s what “I” do. The very way it is used as
a lone letter reveals something frankly incredible and even revelatory about our human race – that as a species we are obsessed
with ourselves.
The idea (American Latin literally “the thing which I have
thought”), is that humans have developed the lifestyle and philosophy to look after themselves. The species is built on this idea
– if we all care for ourselves and ourselves alone, then everyone
is cared for, and we can all live harmoniously. What makes this
mind-set so effective is that opponents to the idea must concede
defeat, for in order to fight against this notion, they have to make
some claim that they are thinking individually for unselfish reasons – that their ideas are not for the furtherance of their own careers; not for self-identification as a significant party in the transfer of knowledge; not for cars, bitches, nor bling. Therefore, in
order to argue against this egotistical philosophy, one must argue
that one is wrong – and few are prepared to do this, for fear of
being ridiculed.
The development of the letter can be seen in early cave
drawings. As soon as humans started to develop the ability to
hunt and establish their own power, they started to develop the
need to whine about such things, and lament that they are more
creative than their occupation suggests. Early man (getting up
about an hour later than earlier woman) depicted himself in battle
with beasts, and crafted self-portraits in a naïve style – similar to
contemporary stick man drawings. Far from being the result of in66 I
adequate artistic thought, these images of the self were simplistic
because that was the popular style of the time. Over the course of
several thousand years, these pictorial representations developed,
simplifying from a stick with a circle head (and genitals), into the
lowercase “i” we use today (also with genitals). It was not only
cave drawings that saw this process emerge. Cave installation and
performance art echoed this evolution in form – documentation of
almost all of which has, alas, not survived.
It is no surprise that the shape of the “i” is structured around
the human, standing upright and bold, and emphasising the relation of the head to the body when used in the lowercase. Its use
as a letter is a constant reminder to authors that the words they
are using are centered on themselves. Thus we allow the “i” to
infiltrate some of our most favoured words. We believe ourselves
to be intellectual, interesting, inviting, incredible, ingenious and
most importantly of all, Italian. We quite literally idolise ourselves
through our language.
At the same time, “i” has been employed endlessly to describe things which are new and possess a digital magic. The ipod
epitomises this sentiment – a small box from the future within
which anything could occur, but from which we derive intenseive
aural pleasure. This echoes a complexity to life that we rarely
admit. As much as we care for ourselves and are obsessed with
our own individuality, we know little of what goes on within our
bodies, our vessels of flesh, a mystery to which we are constantly
attentive, a miracle of skin, muscle and meat that we love without
question.
I 67
Iceing (aye-sing) noun. Low-fat alternative for covering cakes,
made entirely of frozen water. As an additional benefit, it
keeps most cakes suitably moist too.
IDS (aye-dee-es) awmuf. “Irritable Dowel Syndrome”. An affliction of fear and disdain for others that is medically proven
to be caused by the acquisition of money. Symptoms include
baldness, clenched teeth and an irrational urge to join the conservative party.
iGlue (ig-loo) noun. A digital joiner.
Ignoreance (ig-noar-ance) noun. The deliberate ignoring of the
knowledge of a person. E.g. how the official dictionary people
are treating me.
Ihilism (aye-he-ism) noun. Political philosophy that believes in
everything. See Nihilism
Illamenate (ill-am-ee-nate) verb. To unpick the tight plastic covering on a book or poster.
Illiteration (ill-it-air-aye-shun) noun. Unsuccessful attempt to
employ wordplay resulting in a less legible and enjoyable outcome than where no wordplay is employed. E.g. “Peter picked
the pustule of pus from the penis-shaped spot on his dad’s dead
dog’s corpse, sadly.”
Imp (imp) noun. How an Orc walks, given that one of its legs is
longer than the other.
Inflection (in-fleck-shun) noun. The process by which one’s accent is influenced by disease. E.g. (hold nose while saying)
“Hello”, “banana”, etc..
Injest (in-jest) verb. To eat something purely for fun. This often
refers to the kind of occasion when people dare you to eat
something disgusting, or when you have already eaten something disgusting but try to convince yourself that it was done
for entertainment purposes. Secondary meaning: eating purely
for pleasure when you have no actual hunger.
68 I
Inkling (ink-ling) noun. Suggested name for a baby squid.
Insecticide (in-sect-ee-side) noun. An insect enthusiast.
Instupid (in-stew-peed) adj. Clever. See Telligent
Insurance (in-shore-ents) noun. Unknown. Although we think we
know what insurance is, its precise definition is still incomplete. It is commonly conceived to be a small regular payment
that is collected by a company which should pay out in full
the cost of rebuying something if a bad event happens to the
original item, say for example if your phone burns down, or
your house is stolen by nuns. However, such companies claim
otherwise – they believe insurance is money paid to them so
that when something bad happens, they can cover the cost of
writing a letter to you explaining why they don’t owe you any
money. Academics believe that the insurance industry began in
good faith, but has ended up as a sort of taxation on ill fortune
furthered by a group of letter-writing enthusiasts who genuinely believe their well-written letters of apology are worth the
huge sums paid to them in small increments over time.
It’sn’t (not-sure) noun. Conflation of two constructions, “It’s” and
“isn’t”. This word simply means “it is” and “it it not”, helpfully
reduced to be as easy to say and write as possible. It’s a lot
quicker this way. See Theiy’er
I 69
J
(j)
(jake – minus the “k”)
The letter “j” is one of the most interesting of all the letters.
Originally a bird, “j” is now the most commonly used letter in the
alphabet. Trying to pin down what “j” is is tricky, as it’s like a
slippery “i”, and, as such, whenever you think you have it caught,
it is launched two or three meters into the distance if you squeeze
too tightly with your hands.
How “j” lost its wings is a sad story that has been told to
children for many years, but I am happy to announce that the
original story is actually a myth. As I’m sure you are aware, the
myth goes that, flying around one day, happy as Larry (another
bird who lived in the same tree), the “j” got greedy, and sick of
eating worms and occasionally fish, started to eat other birds (including his friend Larry). God saw this bird-on-bird violence, and
banished “j” from birdhood forever, ripping its wings, wing from
body. The myth of this story is that his friend was not actually
called Larry, but Lazzy (short for Lazerus).
More often than not, “j” can be found hanging around with
other letters to give them a pop cultural edge. For example, the
word J-Pop, sometimes referred to as “Japanese Pop”, is a very
specific kind of pop, in which the bubbles taste of raw fish. As
it’sn’t particularly popular in its home town, J-Pop manufacturers
have managed to sell their wares overseas by convincing people
who claim to be “cool” and “accepting” that J-Pop is an acquired
taste, one which shows cultural class and knowledge, when in fact
the drink is nothing but fish water (mixed with a little urine and
“popped” with some carbon monoxide).
It is no wonder that people get so excited when January
stumbles through the wintry door, tired and slurring from the
night before. As soon as the month appears, or at least after a
24-hour grace period, the month imbues the human race with an
70 J
unrivalled confidence in its ability to do wonderful things – to run
every day, to lose weight, to be a better person. But this power is
simply a myth, a marketing tactic conceived by a consortium of
health food shops and gym store executives to balance a typically
slow festive sales period.
The idea behind juice is similar. When we consume juice
as fruit, we abhor the chore of having to gnaw and bore through
rigidly fleshed appendages of vitamins – but when crushed and
squeezed, it becomes a delight, a delicacy we will pay through the
nose for the chance to slurp. Jam too – a raw product turned into
sweet delight. And just look around you: jumpers. They’re just
thick, boring clothes when you think about it, aren’t they? But
we love their warm embrace, like the nuzzled breast of a mother.
Jewellery – just shiny bits of metal that you wear on or near your
face. It’s all a lie.
But “j” can do this to us – allow an empty and impossible
dream to be presented to as a genius idea, the thoughts of a better
race of humanity. With “j” we allow the ridiculous to be presented
as the sublime – and to some extent we are better because of it.
J 71
Jacket Potato (jack-et-po-tay-toe) noun. Handy spud kept in the
pocket for emergencies.
Jam (cham) verb. To improvise marmalade.
Jasper (jazz-per) noun. Collective noun for bees and carrots together (though not for either bees or carrots individually). E.g.
“At the picnic today there was a jasper of bees and carrots. No
one was happy.”
Jazz Apple (jash-app-elle) noun. Improvised alternative to an
apple when fruit is required in a recipe. Can also refer to any
vegetable or ingredient.
Jazzman (jash-men) noun. Someone who plays Jazz music for a
living, or to a particularly splendid level of accomplishment.
E.g. “The jazzman swept the room like a moth sweeps a curly
stare”.
Jeffing (jeff-ing) noun. The act of removing an “f” to make it
seem more friendly. See Effing
Jellyfish (gel-ee-fish) noun. Collective noun for a lot of heroin
before it has been cooked. E.g. “I will not pass the crème, Bill!
Have you not seen that terrifying jellyfish of heroin behind
us?” See Smack
Jemga (gem-gar) noun. Game of kings. Quite difficult to play.
Jist (jisht) noun. The moment in which both parties are so bored
of the sex they are having that they mutually decide to orgasm
and let it be done with. E.g. “She couldn’t reach the jist as she
was too short, but he helped her, despite the fact that he was
even shorter than her.”
Jizz (chizz) noun. South African Jazz. One of the first proponents of Jizz was Nelson Mandela (not that Nelson Mandela)
who spent many years in prison for his views. Jizz differs from
western Jazz in three ways. Firstly, the syncopated rhythms
of Jazz are often dis-syncopated for the South African genre.
Secondly, the final chord of a Jizz performance is often held
72 J
for a full fifteen minutes, without any improvisation or new
breaths – the technical term for this is the “Jizz Suspension”.
If the Jizz suspension is not reached, the entire group, or “Jizz
Team”, have to start improvising a way back into the song, to
approach the final chord and start again. Thirdly, Jizz differs
from Jazz by name – Jizz is called “Jizz”, where-as Jazz is
called “Jazz”.
Jizzmonger (chizz) noun. Someone who sells South African Jazz,
though not necessary a jizzman or a jazzman.
Joint (choint) noun. Where the end of one cigarette paper
is joined to another cigarette paper, to make a longer cigarette. The longest cigarette ever smoked was 11 feet, and was
smoked by a professional jazzman, having been rolled by a
carpet company.
Jollypop (cho-lee-pop) noun. Sucking candy or sweet which
brings happiness and joy. Replaces the antiquated term “lollypop”.
J 73
K
(k)
(‘kay?)
The letter “k” is one of the most interesting of all the letters.
Within the letter “k” there is a strange antagonism, between one
group of people who want it to be employed casually, and another
group who overreact and hope that its excessive use can rid the
world of people they do not agree with. Those who fall into former category refer to themselves as the K, and those of the latter
category refer to themselves as the KKK.
Between these two camps are the KK. These are people who
like the possible use of the power of the letter “k”, but prefer
that this power not be used aggressively. The impossibility of this
dream lies in the paradoxical nature of the KK’s suggested use
of “k”: they hope that this power can be used without delicately
stepping into some disastrous authoritarian fascist hell. Yet why
would anyone want to use the letter “k” if not to assert their power in a way that a hard “c” simply cannot achieve?
There is something undeniably mysterious about the letter
“k”, which possesses a kind of spiritual power so effective, it structurally imposes its own misuse. Even in science its use in systems
of measuring multiplies any given quantity by a thousand – but
with additional symbolic weight far in excess of that number.
To run thousand meters is nothing compated with completing a
kilometre, so much so that one does not return, following a run
to lament running several thousand metres, but resolutely asserts
“I ran 5k”. Look into the eyes of someone telling you their latest
personal best, and you’ll be sure to see the danger and excitement
they feel as they assert that final consonant.
In the 20th century, there was a resurgence of an old urban
legend that there was a kind of “k” which could be employed to
make you thin, beautiful and immortal, or something close to it.
This “Special K” is only rumoured to exist, but if it is found, it is
74 K
hoped to revolutionise the food industry if it can be synthesized
into some sort of cheap mass-market product that can be sold as
a luxury item. This myth of course speaks relates to the struggle
between “k”’s power and those who attempt to contain it. Those
who possess it must find a way to resist its corrupting influence,
an influence turning the well-intentioned dieter into a snob who
believes in their own superiority for no reason other than the fact
they bought something.
It can be quite dangerous to attempt to use the letter “k”
when you do not mean to, especially as it silently stands next
to some letters, ignored until eventually it overpowers the word
completely. A subtle example is the “knee”, where we hardly knotice the letter, as it only appeared in the last hundred years, and
its audible realistion is only now being adopted into the common
vernacular. Elsewhere, the word “knowledge” has included the
letter for at least a millenium, such that those who wield “knowledge” now know its danger – those who control what it is to think
can control the people around them. Knowledge isn’t necessarily
something to be feared, but it is best to be wary of it. And so it is
with “k”.
No one knows what the letter “k” wants from knees, but
a number of individuals have knoticed their own knees being
damaged, twisted or in other ways weakened with remarkable
regularity compared to past ages, in which knees were relatively
strong. What were once emblems of strength are fast becoming
the Achilles’ heels of legs.
K 75
K (kay) noun. Popular social drug; a kind of Ecstasy for horses.
Kampf (kam-pbf) noun. From the German word meaning “silly
thoughts”.
Karmic Sutra (car-mick-xoo-trao) noun. Quasi-religious text
whose mantra is “you get what you give”. which is dedicated
to the maintenance of a balanced sexual relationship, concentrating on oral sex procedures that ensures no partner is given
a sexual preference.
Kayak (kay-ak) noun. Boat for people who don’t get on well in
groups.
Keepy-Uppies (key-pea-up-peas) noun. Street slang for drugs
originally intended to treat narcoleptics.
Kernel (col-nel) noun. Military officer in any computer that dictates how it works.
Kiev (kyev) noun. Small church to the god of butter, garlic and
parsley, which is usually made from breaded chicken and can
fit in the palm of one’s hand.
Kindling (kin-dling) noun. A baby e-book reader.
Kinky (kin-key) adj. Something which has lots of bumps or
notches, both visibly and texturally complex.
Kneed (ker-need) noun. The irrepressible desire for dough.
Kneep (ker-neep) noun. The sound one makes when twanging a
muscle in one’s leg.
Knitch (ker-nitch) noun. An American word meaning something
relating to a specific taste or genre. They can’t seem to handle
the already existing word “niche”, and so, like a mother clears
up the regurgitated food of a child or husband, here I wipe
the drool of language from a well-intentioned, but poorly educated, mouth.
76 K
Knotice (no-tice) verb. To observe something. (wait, when was
this included? I don’t remember seeing this spelling in earlier
drafts – Ed.)
Kojak (ker-oh-ji-ak) adj. Picture perfect, spot on. E.g. “Well done
mate, that was Kojak, now you have to escape without being
seen”
Kong (kong) noun. Word used for a large monkey or ape but
when one is unsure if the creature is a monkey or an ape.
Kop (kop) noun. Enough. E.g. “Fair kop guvna’”.
Kreeper (ker-ee-per) noun. Any climbing plant that. Beautiful,
and gives any building “character”.
Kuddle (cou-dull) noun. The wet patch resulting from the overly
warm embrace of two or more people.
Kup (cup) noun. Piece of protective genital wear for women in
sports.
Kwiz (ker-wiz) noun. Collection of questions in a pub that are
written for numpties and leave most well-to-do people without
any form of entertainment or enjoyment. Not to be confused
with a proper “quiz”.
Kzak (ker-sack) noun. Written equivalent of a sneeze that is peculiar to your own.
K 77
L
(l)
(elle)
The letter “l” is one of the most interesting of all the letters.
In 1969 two journalists, followed a trail of political corruption
behind the letter “l”. Back in the 60s, of course, there was a new
breed of experimental “Gonzo” journalism, named after the muppet who was also an investigative journalist who made his name
in exposing a campaign-financing scandal for the subsequently
disgraced Republican presidential candidate Bud Holby. Gonzo
journalism involved street smarts, flannel shirts and the use of
powerful narcotics to get to the truth, in the same way that people
use narcotics today to understand dance music.
The following is a transcript of a conversation between Tony
“Tony” Martaine and Ryan Smallnots, working for Smash Hits
magazine (then a serious magazine for important journalism) and,
hot on the trail of truth in Wisconsin, Wyoming.
TM: Feel this.
RS: What?
TM: This. Feel this.
RS: I need a smoke...Where’s a lighter?
TM: As your executor I insist you feel this – it feels
like blank sandpaper. My face shouldn’t do that, you
know?
RS: NO. God dammit, Gawd damnit, gord Dangit!
Lighter? [Inaudible gargling for 2 minutes] Aha!
[The sound of a lighter fumbling for a flame, flicking, then igniting].
TM: Have you ever tried to smell your own nose?
RS: What? We should make lasagna. I’ve been saying that for weeks, but we should definitely make
78 L
lasagna.
TM: Your nose. It’s impossible. Unless it smells like
air.
RS: I met my nose once. She was working for an airline company. We banged solid for a few hours and
then we never saw each other again. Do you have
any lasagna sheets? Some béchamel sauce?
TM: What did it smell like?
RS: Bay leaves... beef... passata... She was beautiful.
TM: The smell – what was the smell?
RS: Just like every other time... basil? It was clammy. [Pause. Five minutes of breathing, nasally noises
while jars are struck, knives chopped and pans sizzled] Yeah, clammy.
TM: Are we sure we’re in the right place?
RS: Sure we are. How could we not be? We turned
left at the right place and found ourselves here. Can
I have some mozzarella?
TM: I don’t know, can you?
RS: I meant may I.
TM: I don’t know, might you?
RS: I might. Should I?
TM: You should get some, I don’t have any...
And so the audio continues for at least half an hour. Needless
to say, they found relatively little of political importance, and
missed their lasagna by a considerable carbonara. After the piece
was published, and relatively ignored thanks to its positioning
towards the back of the magazine amongst the classified adverts,
it was turned into a best-selling book called “El paso mi amore”
ghostwritten for Delia Smith.
L 79
Ladidity (la-dee-dee-tea) noun. Measure of how much one fits
into a certain conception of “laddish” culture. Curiously, my
own research suggests that everyone going on stag dos are
worried about their own perceived ladidity, such that this
heightened ladidity may arguably not exist in the first place,
and that all stag dos are merely charades of drunken men who
would all rather be sat at home with a cup of tea and a jigsaw
than have to march through an Eastern European town dressed
up as a Roman soldier, forced to wear a floppy dildo as a rudimentary moustache.
Lamenate (lamb-en-ate) verb. To yearn for a plastic covering.
Languistine (lang-wis-tyne) noun. Idiot who believes his friends
when they claim they ordered him scampi as he had asked,
but is instead left waiting when the rest of the table’s food is
delivered, warm and true. E.g. “The languistine’s food tasted
like thistlegum” (Sorry for that mate – Ed.).
Leaf (liefe) noun. A plant’s hands.
Leftover (left-oh-vaire) noun. Name given to things that people
accidentally leave behind after a passionate night of gin rummy and love-making. These mistakes are deliberately committed by the subconscious when it is sick and tired of its body
having sex with random partners and quite fancies a few nights
off to drink a few shots of Tequila in front of a warm fire, with
a guaranteed shag.
Legos (leg-oz) noun. Greek island built entirely from Lego. Local
authorities of Legos are constantly battling with British tourists as they appear on drunken nights out to deconstruct roads
and buildings as they see fit – a consequence of which that it
is cheaper and more profitable for any public statue to be left
as a desecrated and poorly constructed representation of the
male genitalia.
Lent (leant) noun. The thirty day grace period from borrowing
something in which both parties – the borrowee and the borrower – are permitted not to mention returning the loaned
item. Breaking lent is poor form, and though there are no of80 L
ficial ramifications for such an action, it is frowned upon. Like
this: >: (
Librarian (li-brae-rhea-an) noun. Buccaneer of the written word.
Liebrary (lie-brae-ree) noun. The place where every lie you’ve
ever told is kept in tomes for St. Peter (who is himself guilty
enough to feature on a number of pages of books) to read for
you at the pearly gates.
Lil (leel) adj. Something deadly to touch, which we must all tolerate lest it kill us all. e.g Lil’ Wayne.
Litterally (lit-ter-all-ee) noun. When someone is as bad at throwing something away as someone claims. E.g. “Rubbish”.
Loan (lo-an) noun. Going completely independent, financially
speaking.
Loghurt (log-urt) noun. A delicacy in some European states, essentially a naturally occurring cream scraped from the barks
and branches of various trees. Though it can be served on its
own, loghurt is often presented as an accoutrement to a mushroom risotto.
Logrhythm (log-rye-them) noun. The intricate muscular contractions of the anus necessary to perform the careful dance in
feeding a particularly difficult excretion out of the body.
Lool (loule) noun. Internet slang derived from the
AWMUFTILOSOW “Laugh out out loud”. Used for when you
have laughed out out loud. See AWMUFTILOSOW
Loon (lune) noun. Someone who is mad but only at night.
Loooong (lo-ooo-o-ng) adj. Elongated, tall, stretched out, or having a large length. Replaces the word “long” which was shorter
than the word “short”.
Longshorts (lo-ong-shorts) noun. Garment worn over the legs;
replaces the term “trousers”, which was inadequate.
L 81
Lubrican (loo-brie-can) noun. Artificial liquid gel which is used
to lubricate genitalias for sexual encounters.
Lubricant (loo-brie-can’t) noun. The incorrect use of lubrican.
Also a brand name for a liquid used to make sexual intercourse
more difficult for those who have already mastered sex and are
82 L
Leaves
looking for more of a challenge, or simply for those who enjoy
foreplay more than the final, and ultimately messy, traditional
fornication. See Lubrican
Luxemburg (lux-em-bur-gh) noun. Island rumoured to exist since
the idea was first proposed in the 16th century. It was Sir Alfred
Longnose, a wise old fruit, who first claimed to have stumbled
across the island while trying to find a route between Spain
and whatever it was to the west of Spain that people wanted
to sail to. However, recent cartographers have insisted that he
and his ship – the Virgin Marauder – had, after a night of intoxicating drinks and some dangerous Rummikub, taken a wrong
turn and actually ended up near France. The crew remained so
inebriated that they failed to realise they were a few kilometres from where they had been before, and had a thoroughly
lovely time of it – except for the now inevitable outbreak of
chlamydiae (known then as “dragon’s nose”). However, the
island is still claimed by some to exist, as the place many celebrities go when their fame reaches such intolerable levels of
saturation that they must fake their own deaths in order to find
some peace and quiet. Theories suggest guests on the Island
include Tupac, Notorious BIG, Michael Jackson and the kid
from Stand By Me. No not that one, the other one. Yeah, him.
L 83
M
(m)
(em)
The letter “m” is one of the most interesting of all the letters.
It is the letter of masculinity, the penis of calligraphy, the erect,
unnecessarily aggressive genital of phoneme which announces its
fertility with confidence – but without any significant characteristics that give the statement meaning. Without wanting to step into
a debate of misogyny, it is an undeniable fact of the biology of the
letter that it is one of the strongest letters imaginable, featuring
two supporting beams for an inverted arch shape, which droops
as near to the floor as possible without ever actually touching it.
This is the letter’s penis.
As the father of all the letters, the letter “m” spends most
of its time marauding other words anonymously without causing
a fuss, and attempting to impregnate as many fertile letters as is
letterly possible. The mating process of letters is quite an interesting area of exploration, one which has occupied perverts for
years. Indeed, perverts are occupied with this subject right now
(there is a reason libraries are full of funny-smelling leather bound
books). Much like the common male, it often takes no care to actually choose a mate, and works by spreading seed as recklessly
as it can, hoping to sustain reproductive success and diversity. Its
sperm can often be seen on pages, appearing as little specks of ink
or tiny scratches in the page. These are often exacerbated when
photocopied or scanned. “M” is the only male letter in the alphabet, and the rest are either female, neuter, or a mixture of the two.
The success of this tactic is surprisingly high, but unfortunately few of the new letters that are born ever make it to selfsustaining adulthood. The gestation period of a newborn letter
depends on what kind of letter it is, but usually, one can expect a
letter to grow from a mygote (from which we get the word “maggot”, meaning “baby word fly”) into its own unique shape after 20
84 M
or 30 months – but even at this point there are few visible signs
of maturation. Curiously, letters are actually born prior to their
neural functions (or the letterly equivalent) are being successfully
connected, and so allow for several weeks of maturation in which
the letters must learn to be spoken while at constant risk of being
forgotten, or killed by smudges, ink blots or accidental tearing.
Although it would be incorrect to suggest the letter “m” does
not work particularly hard at procuring a mate, success is so rare
that its standards are non-existent. In fact, the letter “m” is surprisingly lonely. It spends most of its life thinking to itself quietly
hoping to find meaning through philosophical existence. This is
why we have an approximation of the mating call of the letter “m”
– mmmm – which simultaneously refers to pleasure in both taste
and thought. Unfortunately the letter “m” has no taste-buds of
its own, so its lonely cry (very occasionally caught by the human
ear) is considered to be a lamentation for the lack of the ability to
taste, an expression of grief that it is difficult to empathise with as
a fully tasting human.
Unsurprisingly, there is a thriving letter porn industry – but
no one has ever actually managed to find authentic footage of
this sex act. This explains the popularity of libraries even today,
as keen perverts search through old texts and books for first hand
evidence of the practice. As far as we know, there hasn’t been a
new letter raised to maturation since the letter “z”, but it is highly
likely that there is a newly born letter in the book you are reading
right now. Many believe that letters become fertile in romantic
or dirty literature, which might help to explain the popularity of
poorly executed prose in best-seller charts.
M 85
Madmin (mad-min) noun. Popular American drama that looks
at beauracractic angels of a spy company, in a time when hiring and firing were done before the introduction of “human
resources”. There are those that administrate who can and who
cannot kill, and these administrators must be trained to licence
licences to kill. But who licences the licensers of licences?
Magnaminous (mag-nam-in-us) noun. Someone who has eaten
all the ice-creams or drunk all the champagne.
Mangina (man-gee-na) noun. French carbonated juice drink
made from the pulp of a mango. E.g. “I can’t believe you left
that mangina in the restroom, I would happily have melted it
down and placed it in my pocket for a large fee.”
Mantis (man-tis) noun. Wooden construction designed for a specific activity. One can have mantises dedicated to all sorts of
things – most women have some sort of mantis for make-up and
hair, while some men may have a “wank mantis” for cleansing
and sterilising their genitals. You may well have passed one in
a church that you visited when on holiday.
Mash-up (mash-up) noun. Potato party.
Meaningfulness (maen-ing-foul-nus) noun. Essence by which
something is said, but which when really looked at is unnecessarily overly unspecific about that which it portends to mean.
E.g. “His head was full of meaningfulness. If only the cabinet
would listen instead of ignoring his mooning”. See Moon
Media (maey-dee-a) noun. Group of liars that pretend to believe
they have magical abilities and who claim to speak for the
dead. Together they conspire to satisfy and entertain vulnerable people with lies, deception and stagecraft.
Mediacre (maey-dee-aye-ker) noun. General space where we
watch, see and consume things online that are plain, dull and
uninteresting.
Megabob (mega-bob) noun. Couple of thousand kilobits. Cockney
rhyming slang for the 21st century.
86 M
Memoir (meme-woir) noun. Memory committed to art.
Menesis (men-eee-sis) noun. The arch villain of a dyslexic superhero. E.g. “Finally, you will meet your menesis.”
Menis (men-ish) noun. Word for the penis when it is being used
exclusively for non-pleasurable acts. E.g. ”Without wishing to
prescribe what you can use your new menis for, some examples include urinating, DIY, tobogganing, etc.”
Millenium Bug (my-len-aye-um boo-g) noun. A digital virus of
the “myllaneus” phyllum which causes confusion in computers. The symptoms of this electronic infection include sore
throat, dry eyes and the mad compulsion to “lose” files and
“corrupt” data – and even in some cases to cause malfunctions
when communicating with printers. Originally, this was identified by computer gynaecologists, investigating a heavy breakout of libble rabble (responsible for the unknown gunk found
on joysticks and over used USB devices) who later diagnosed
the virus at the end of the 20th century. University administrators have found that it is particularly prevalent around essay
hand-in time and other important deadlines.
Minimum (mini-mum) noun. The absolute smallest empirical
height that a mother can be before the child she gives birth
to is technically bigger than she is. It is a great tradition in
Iceland that once every year, the smallest child is celebrated
with a measuring ceremony, and a little goblin made of clay
that is built according to the estimated minimum height that
the child’s mother could physically be, is gifted to the child.
As part of the tradition according to the rules of monopoly,
everyone in the country must give that child a $10 monopoly
note on their birthday for the next 18 years.
Miranda (me-rand-our) noun. Roofed porch designed for the use
of only one person. E.g. “They sent a miranda to the moon, but
they forgot to speak to it softly.”
Miranda Rights (me-rand-our rye-ts) noun. The constitutionally
protected right for anyone to have a roofed porch designed for
the use of only one person.
M 87
Mistc (mist-c) noun. an unknown kind of fog. It doesn’t really
matter anyway as it has to be treated the same as if it was fog.
Short for Mistcellanious. E.g. “I have a wonderful collection of
weather, from rain, to sunny, to cloudy all the way to Mistc.
Now order something or get the hell out.”
Mndr (mein-derr) noun. An app for finding people in your local area who, like you, love meaningless television detective
dramas.
Mo (moo) noun. Abbrev for “more”. E.g. “having opened the gallery, he remembered and now understood what Brian had told
him – mo’ Monet, mo’ problems.”
Modo (mow-dtho) noun. A child murderer – that is a murderer who is a young child, not a person that murders children,
hence the need for a distinction. Modos are often thought of
fondly by many despite the grim reality of their crimes.
Moggy (mog-gee) adj. When the air that hangs in the sky is so
opaque and cloudy that it would make any cat think it was
lost. E.g. “The moggy air was enough to let him go to college
without taking a loan, or indeed packing an ointment.”
M’okay (m-oh-kay) decl phrase. “I am well”.
Moon (moo-n) verb. A process of working through grief that requires partial nakedness, most commonly of the bottom.
Morocco (mo-rock-go) noun. An Italian “Morocc.”
Morrow (more-row) verb. To put off work to another day. E.g.
“He morrowed lustfully, desperate to live in a time when work
did not bother him like a wet, soapy sponge bothers grime.”
Muffia (muff-ear) noun. Criminal organisation comprised solely
of homosexual women. This dangerous organisation has been
celebrated in a number of films, whose titles are hilarious puns
on famous gangster films using parts of the female anatomy, or
lesbian slang, e.g. in the same way a fishing syndicate would
inspire a film called Scarpface or Angels with Dirty Plaices.
88 M
Mooning
M 89
Muffle (muff-el) verb. To cover one’s ears so one cannot hear, but
leaving one only hearing more acutely.
Mumbai Mix (mum-bay-mix) noun. A collection of unknown
snacks, including nut-like brown things, green balls resembling dried peas, dried yellow worm sticks and “X” dog mix
snacks, spiced with an orange taste-dust and served at guilty
dinner parties, yet never in Indian restaurants. Updated version of Bombay Mix. As with most snacks, the mix becomes
tastier due to the use of alliteration. Similar examples of this
include “Paprika Pringles”, “Nobby’s nuts”, and “Secretly
Salted” crisps.
Mygot (my-got) noun. A fertilised letter egg.
Myth (migh-th) noun. The polite title for a married woman with
a lisp. The impolite title is “Married Bitch.”
Mythter (migh-thy-er) noun. The polite title for a married man
with a lisp. The impolite title is “Married Junk Fuck.”
Mythter Men (migh-thy-er-men) noun. A series of children’s
books for children who like to laugh at speech impediments.
90 M
N
(n)
(enn)
The letter “n” is one of the most interesting of all the letters.
Where all other letters bring hope, the letter “n” brings despair.
“N” is nothing. “N” is negative. “N” is nihilism. “N” is not nice at
all.
Its role as a negliplier is not well documented, neither in
the knee-length textbook of linguistics, nor in the noodling minds
of laymen. But, regardless, “n” has wormed its way into the vernacular of the everyday, with popular words such as “neither” and
“nor” being negative connotations given to words that otherwise
would live full and happy lives.
Why “n” got this role is a tale that has been told a thousand
times, though never heeded. The king at the time, Alfred, was
looking for an heir to his kingdom, and suitors for his beautiful
daughters. The eldest, a blonde woman called Nigella, with hips
that could make a horse blush, paraded herself through the village, and attracted the attention of a certain young man, a virtually anonymous blacksmith who vowed to do whatever he could
to marry the girl. Just as he thought this, the blacksmith turned
to one side and saw a royal servant was nailing a poster to the
door of the church. This notice promised the hand of the King’s
daughter to the winner of a competition. It went on to suggest that
potential suitors could apply by completing the sentence “I deserve to marry one of the King’s daughters because...” (10 words
or less). Without skipping a heartbeat, the lowly blacksmith, so
poor he couldn’t afford a name of his own, grabbed an application
form immediately. He sat for days contemplating which words he
would choose, spending whole evenings sat in the haunted woodland alone, staring at the moon for inspiration. After realising he
was illiterate he scribbled something which to him mimicked the
scrawl of words as he saw it, attached a humble passport sized
N 91
photo and posted it in the requested box, paying the correct postage. Thirteen days passed and many more sleepless nights swam
through the hay-strewn paths.
Just as he had given up hope of hearing back from the competition commission, he was given a place in the King’s tournament of love – essentially a large 32-way cage match between
a number of men from across the kingdom, including beasts of
intellect, gigantically sweaty and beautiful men with muscles in
spaces one would otherwise reserve for essential organs, and longhaired thoughtful types, armed with their lutes and well-chosen
words. The blacksmith had nothing, not realising he was supposed
to bring anything, and arrived unarmored, his chest brazen with
the scar of a large “n” from an accident in his youth, where his
father “accidentally” cut an “n” into his chest. He stood in front
of his fierce rivals and composed himself – until the sound of the
trumpet signalled that the tournament was to begin.
He didn’t win. In fact, his appearance was a huge embarrassment, with many thinking he was a character included by the
organizers to make the other competitors look good. Instead, the
King’s daughter was won by Mr. Charmang, a wealthy man from a
far-away village who worked in human resources for an advertising company.
Alone, and having committed his heart to the beauty of
Nigella, the blacksmith returned to his muddy home, realising
that his endeavours had cost him his business, with bills left unpaid – including a hefty sum for all the raw “black” he needed to
smith with. Working double time to conquer his debts, the blacksmith suffered an aneurysm and died. His story of heartache was
shared, and the letter “n” was grown in his name – which is how
“n” got its trousers.
92 N
Naan (nar-n) noun. Posh grandmother.
Nabble (nab-bell) noun. A larger nibble than the small bite a
friend has offered you. Akin to stealing.
Nac (nack) noun. An ability to do something useless.
Nagic (naj-ick) noun. Something miraculous achieved through
numbers, or some other boring medium, which makes the miraculous mundane.
Nanagram (narn-a-grarm) noun. Wordplay used by old people
to describe things in such a facetious way as to deliberately
confuse conversations and become the victor of words. A nanagram is intentionally employed, often in reference to modern
technology when talking with a younger person, and disguises
wit and linguistic violence behind innocence and confusion.
Nautical (nought-ic-kle) adj. Misbehaving.
Nawn (norn) noun. An action one does that is not for display.
Needles (need-elles) noun. Dregs at the bottom of a dried noodle
packet.
Neglipliar (neg-lee-ply-er) noun. Something which diminishes
that which it comes into contact with.
Neilism (knee-ill-is-m) noun. Philosophy in which nothing really
matters, except people called Neil.
Neilist (knee-ill-ist) noun. Someone who subscribes to Neilism,
but who isn’t called Neil.
Net Loss (net-louse) noun. To lose at tennis thanks to your own
poor service game.
Nib (nibb) verb. To write something down, quickly.
Night Nurse (night-nurse) noun. Prostitute specialising in medical role-play.
N 93
Nike (ker-nic-kay) noun. Greek God of Child Labour.
N’okay (no-kay) phrase. “I am not well”.
Nolad (no-lad) noun. Holes or gaps within letters.
Nonder (non-der) adj. Not in that direction.
Nonomatopoeia
(non-phant-ist-ick-le-matt-oh-pee-)
noun.
Characteristic of (a word) being spelled nothing like how it
sounds. See oe
Norse (gnaw-orse) adj. Not a horse. E.g. “According to Norse legend, it is unlucky to wax a hammer on Sundays.”
Nostril (noz-tril) noun. A hairy, flesh-like cave.
Nostril-Dame (noz-tril-daem) noun. French city built inside a
large nostril. The estimated 15,000 people of Nostril-Dame,
living within the warmth of a naturally occurring nostril comprised of wet chalk and vine roots, have adapted their lifestyle
to suit their surroundings. Once a humble market town, NostrilDame has become a tourist destination due to the incredible
story of Quazi-modo – a disfigured creature that many in the
town thought resembled a modo. As the story goes, he lived in
the city’s world-renowned cathedral where he was hidden by
the Vicar Nombardy to protect him from unjust persecution.
The town is economically buoyed by foreign custom thanks to
the story being retold in the Disney Classic film Herbie Rides
Again. While visitng tourists can enjoy Quasi-modo-themed
boat rides along the river Phlegm, and delicious cuisine built
around the use of a locally farmed vegetable (the boo-ghee) as
the main ingredient in overpriced dishes at Goodyear-starred
restaurants. The luxuriant growth of boo-ghee in Nostril-Dame
also permits an artistic quarter, which manufactures cheap and
lightweight decorations, or handmade vessels for znot. See
Boo-ghee and Modo
Nostrildamus (noz-stril-daem-mouse) noun. Old woman of
Nostril-Dame who predicts the future using her nose. She has
not yet gotten a single prediction right. If she predicts you to
94 N
be unhappy, you will soon die a happy individual.
(
) noun. Absence of anything. Replaces the old
world “nothing” which was too visible.
Notw (nert-we) adv. Not now nor any other time.
Nougat (nu-gar) noun. Term used by unbelievably posh black
people to refer to each other.
Nozzletoff (nosh-ell-toff) noun. Now banned practice of greeting
other Jewish people with a secret handshake involving circumcised penisesses.
Npower (enp-ow-er) noun. Power which we all yield that keeps
us useless and without influence.
Nrin (en-rin) noun. A mouth expressing indifference.
Nuckleduster (nuck-ell-dush-tear) noun. Japanese invention
which works like a mop for the hands. Unhygienic.
Nuclear Family (new-clear-fam-ill-ee) noun. Superhero family
whose only powers are having survived from radiation poisoning for so long.
Nyet (knee-et) adv. Not yet.
N 95
O
(o)
(no – silent “n”)
The letter “o” is the most interesting of all the letters. An “o”
is designed as it sounds, to be a polite shock. A close relative of
the number zero, the “o” delineates the distance between life and
its absence – anti-life, or death. In death, the “o” suggests, there is
completion, without end.
Its close connection with death is congealed in a number of
“death masks”, developed for funeral rituals, by separate cultures
that have never met. Having researched this subject extensively, my personal favourite is an example from the Atahuhu tribe,
whose elongated masks – sourced from local plants but crafted
within a larger bamboo frame – exaggerate the features of the
face until they are almost elephantine, with a long hooked nose at
which other members of the tribe must fling wooded rings, symbolically hooking them onto the face of death. It is thought that
the masks of the Atahuhu tribe, based near Bristol at Chipping
Sodbury just off the A432, represent an attempt to engage with
death in jovial terms, permitting instead of grief, the opportunity
of defiance and strength. With all of these masks, the one identifying featuring is the single “o” shaped circle, a constant motif
around eyes, on foreheads, or on chins.
As well as death, the “o” is closely aligned with the infinite.
To understand just how big the infinite is, professional thinkers
often employ the “infinite monkeys” analogy, in which an infinite
amount of monkeys are placed in a room and given an infinite
amount of typewriters. It has long been a comic trope that the
newsroom of the Sun newspaper is published along these lines.
But this analogy is inadequate as rather than imagining the
necessary probability of an infinite amount of monkeys, people instead consider only a lot of monkeys, maybe a few dozen, certainly no more than a few hundred thousands of the hairy blighters.
96 O
In their imaginations these brave animals are no doubt discussing
the relative merits of their first draft in their collective endeavour
to ape some great literature, be it the Bible, Joyce’s Ulysses or an
instruction manual for a first generation Sony Walkman. However,
to truly appreciate this vision of infinity, one must be forced to
think of the practicalities of such a bizarre experiment: the sound
of screaming monkeys matched with the clanking of keys, the
smell of wildlife trapped in a dirty warehouse with no one to clean
it. The masturbating. The more one really thinks about it the more
it becomes clear that this certainly isn’t the most efficient use of
taxpayers’ funding to contemplate.
Instead, we permit ourselves to consider the humble “o”, a
never-ending ring of excitement, joy and inquisitiveness. Breakfast
cereals have for years tried to jump on the bandwagon of simplification, to successfully reduce complex ideas like “cheer”, “weet”
(see Weet) and “chocolate” into a form that is literally easy to
digest. Unfortunately, the simplification strategy of adding “o”s
has not shown an ability to work for every complex idea, as a new
brand of cereal “Asbestos” failed to highlight the science behind
health and safety concerns for outdated construction techniques.
O 97
Octopi (oct-toe-pee) noun. Referring to exactly 3.141592653...
octopusheep. See Octopusheep
Octopusheep (oct-toe-po-sheep) noun. Plural of Octopus.
Oe (oe-aer) noun. Word which is spelled as it sounds.
Oi (oy-ee) phrase (explet). “Yes, carry on”.
Ol-deer (ole-de’er) noun. Often-pitied animal. Everything about
it is pathetic – it has a mangy coat, probably a hand-me-down
or bought from a charity shop, visibly brittle knees, and pathetically drooping antlers. Even the most stringent conservationists recommend shooting these on sight.
Oliver (ole-ee-ver) noun. A male (black) olive.
Oliviers (ole-ee-vee-yays) noun. Award ceremony for the best,
and the worst, distributors within the olive industry.
Oodles (oo-dells) noun. Slow-cook alternative to noodles. Most
oodles take at least three days to prepare, but taste exactly the
same as the cheapest, nastiest noodle alternatives.
Ope (oh-pe) noun. Measured anticipation of any certain positive
outcome – one cannot ope for something which will never happen, merely wait.
Oprah (oh-pra!) noun. Italian television chat show, set to music.
which has been popular for centuries.
Outto (ow-toe) prep. When one enters a space bigger than the
one they were in. The opposite of into. E.g. “He went from his
cosy living room outto the wider world, before he realised he’d
forgotten to forget to wear his knees.”
Overheads (oh-ver-heeds) noun. Business term for things that go
unmentioned as it is assumed people won’t understand.
Ownanism (oh-nah-nis-um) noun. Sexual lust for oneself when
shopping online.
98 O
Oy Oy (oi-oi) exclamation. Usually shared amongst men, this
phrase bears only pragmatic meaning meaning, employed as
a means towards filling a gap when one cannot think of other
words to use. The effects of this can be valuable – either for
avoiding an awkward situation or just doing something with
the mouth when one is worried it is being underused. The key
to understanding is communicated through volume – the louder the exclamation, the more confused the speaker is.
Oz (oz) noun. Imperial weight, measured as one one-millionth of
the weight of Australia.
Ol-deer
O 99
P
(p)
(ppee)
The letter “p” is one of the most interesting of all the letters. What makes “p” so special is that it has the magical ability
to make any word funny either by being added to it or being exchanged for a letter in that word. This is both linguistic fact and
a fun game you can play. Take for example, my favourite famous
person, Sir Isaac Newton, star of the Reality TV show Prism Break.
Using the magic of “p”, we can transform him into any number
of hilarious alternatives: Sir Pisaac Newton, Sir Isaac Nepton, Sip
Isaap Newtop and perhaps the most humorous of all, Sir Isaac P.
Newton.
Jokes become funnier in almost every situation – with keen
eyed professionals able to position “p” for optimup effect. Take,
for example, the notorious “knock, knock” jokes.
Person 1: Knock, Knock
Person 2: Who’s there?
Person 1: Doctor Whop
Person 2: Doctor Whop who?
Person 1: Yes, it’s me, Dr. Whoppoo. I’m afraid I
have some bad news: your brother was in an accident. He’s pead.
Person 2: Pead!? (crying)
Person 1: Yes. (pause) Pead. (farts)
Advertisers have sought to cash in on “p”’s popularity. Famously,
in the summer of 2010, P. Diddy fronted a series of adverts for
a British biscuit manufacturer in which he told us to “p-p-p-pick
up a penguip”. Some charities emulated this attempt, using con100 P
scientious film stars like George Clopney, to raise awareness of
a growing humanitarian crisis in the piddle east, where poverty
devastates poop people daily.
Since its discovery (in a drawer of a charity shop in Wapping),
the one true religion – Phrislamism – has arisen around this magnificent power. Having joined their churchp, I am accustomed
with the teachings the almighty Pod and his son Jesup, who believed that one day the meep shall inherit the earth. Let us Pray:
Our Pather, who art in peaven;
Halloped be thy nape.
Thy Kingdop come, your pill be done,
On pearth as it is in peaven.
Givp us thip pay our paily breap,
and pforgive us our trespasspes,
as we pforgive thope
whop trespasps against pus.
Pead pus nop into temptatiop,
but delivep pus from pevil.
For thy is the kingdop,
the power and the glorp.
For pever and pever.
P-men.
The benefits of this group are extensive, and though I’d encourage eternal salpation at any cost, Phrislamism offers not only
the one true path to salpation, but does so at a remarkably affordable rate, Praise the Lorp! Membership starts at a small monthly
fee – no more than a couple of pints of beer, which we can all
afford if you think about it – and if you encourage others to join
our flopk, your regular payments even decrease! And no, this isn’t
a pyramid scheme – the model is instead a pyrapid, without a
thin spike at the top where the dangerous, profiteering slugs suck
life from those below them. No, Phrislamism has none of those
– Hallepujah! I look forward to you all joining me for an arousing hymn of “Ping Pong, Perrily on Pigh” next Chrispmas (see
Chrispmas).
Recently, contemplating my life and my moral worth in this
universe, I have become obsessed with “p”. I think about “p” most
P 101
of the time. Some days, I even contemplate how best to “p” myself.
When trying to “p” myself, sometimes really hard for hours at a
time, I cannot decide between Prichard Hanrahan, Richard hanrahanp or Richarphanrahan. Suggestiops op p postcarp ppease.
And yes, you can stop laughing now – we all know that the
letter “p” when said out loud sounds a bit like the small green
vegetable. Very funny. Well done.
102 P
Packman (pack-men) noun. Someone who works best in a group
or team.
Pad (pad) verb. To use technology. E.g. “I pad, you pad, we all
pad.”
Paigne (pay-een) noun. What glass feels when it’s smashed.
Pallinillap (pal-ill-nil-app) noun. Word which can be read the
same forwards and backwards. Replaces the old word “palindrome” which was a disaster in this respect.
Pallus (pal-us) noun. Important measuring device formerly used
in chartered accounting.
Papal (pay-pel) noun. New financial website built by the catholic
church.
Parenthesis (par-ent-he-sis) noun. Stuff your mother and father
really mean when they are talking to you.
Parker Pen (par-ker-pen) noun. Writing implement kept for
emergencies in a pocket, or occasionally sewn into the lining
of a jacket.
Party (par-tee) noun. Collective noun for a group of twats doing
something they don’t usually do, for fun or through obligation.
Pasty (pas-tee) noun. Singular of pasta.
Peaky (pea-key) adj. Looking particularly well; possessing a flush
to the cheeks that suggests that one has a little bit more life in
one than usual. Opp. Troughy
Pear Pressure (pair-press-sure) noun. When one is forced by the
opinions of older people to eat fruit that you don’t want to eat,
and which tastes just as awful as you imagined.
Pedistool (peddy-stool) noun. Original version of the unicycle
as invented by Leonardo Da Vinci. In the original drawings he
attached an umbrella for rain, and this is how the idea of the
P 103
helicopter was first conceived.
Penal System (peen-all-sis-term) noun. Male genitals.
Penip (pee-nip) noun. New word for male children to describe
their genitals as blunt, inoffensive (and fun!) objects. E.g. “He
swapped his penip with another, and felt more comfortable
with the additional space at the front.”
Penisillin (pee-nis-sill-in) adj. Anything that is of the male genitals. E.g. “his crooked nose was almost penisillin.”
Pestilence (pest-eel-ence) noun. Linguistic alliteration focusing
on the letter “p”. E.g. “The poet performed his paltry play
without people poticing his pestilence, nor indeed the fact he
had his penip out.”
Pharting (far-teeng) adverb. Hissing sound made when someone is releasing gas from the stomach via their rectum without
meaning to.
Philipines (fill-ee-peens) abrev. Shortened, colloquial nickname
for a collection of islands known as the Phillipippines.
Phillybuster (fill-ee-bust-er) noun. Archaic word with sexist connotations meaning someone who is one for the ladies.
Phit (fit) adj. Really unattractive, out of shape.
PI (pee-aye) awmuf. Public Investigator. Someone who refuses
to try and blend in-to any given situation when trying to determine the circumstances of an unusual mystery. Funded and
trained by the state.
Pidgin (pidge-on) noun. Acceptable and, incomparable attempt
at an alcoholic beverage made from juniper berries.
Piece (peas) noun. One single drop of wee.
Pier (pee’er) noun. (1) Someone who is peeing or (2) a posh pear.
104 P
Pisstol (pizz-tall) noun. Super-soaker filled with urine.
Pisstol whip (pizz-tall-wip) noun. Ice cream one eats when being
chased by someone armed with a pisstol. See Pisstol
Pist (pissssssssht) exclam. Sound one makes when drunk and trying to get someone’s attention in a silent space.
Plister (ply-ster) noun. Enjoyable callous or spot that one can
pick and squeeze.
Ploughman (ploff-men) adj. Object with all the constituent parts
provided, but which you are left to construct before it can be
used as intended. Originally term reserved solely for meals
given to ploughing people who, after a hard day, liked nothing
more than an excuse to unwind by making and re-making sandwiches for themselves. In the last half century Scandinavian
furniture entrepreneurs have used this model for a new business, selling ploughman bookcases to save a bit of cash.
Pluck (pluck) noun. Boldness in working with dead animals.
Plumming (ploo-ming) noun. Intricate set-up for growing a plum
that actually tastes as good as one hopes.
Poach (po-ch) verb. To steal, especially an egg.
Pod (pod) noun. Collective noun for policemen. E.g. “We were
chased by a pod of plods plodding alon”; “Those guys are like
two plods in a pod.”
Poenix (pee-nicks) noun. Small, uneventful bird with a short
shelf life and nothing to do with fire.
Polaroid (po-la-royed) noun. Painful cyst at the outermost point
of your buttocks.
Pope-ourri (po-pour-ee) noun. Mixture of dry, and fragrant material that is used in domestic situations to provide the smell of
a recently blessed house.
P 105
Possum (poss-um) noun. Animal only rumoured to exist, not scientifically verified.
Posteraumatic Stress (po-ster-or-mat-ick-stress) noun. Physical
property which must be considered when trying to work out
how much blu-tac to use when hanging cheap glossy artwork.
Pown (pow-earn) verb. To destroy and steal from a town. This
word is adapted from the verb “to pillage” which should only
be used when destroying a village.
Prambulate (per-am-bule-eight) verb. To walk through places
with no other purpose than pushing a child. This does not necessarily mean the child is too young to walk, but that the child
deserves or needs to be pushed. Although the child does not
have to be complicit in the action, the parent of the child does.
So seek permission before attempting to prambulate the child
of a stranger.
Praps (per-apps) noun. Might mean maybe when you are in a
hurry, but then again it might not.
Prebook (pre-book) noun. Bit before the book begins. See the
Prebook, and Prolog
Preserve (pre-surf) verb. To serve something before it is ready.
(E.g. this book! – Ed.)
Presto (per-es-toe) noun. (1) Italian sauce made for and by magicians. (2) New Harry Potter themed launderettes and ironing
service that recently opened in town.
Prim (per-im) adj. Short, ugly and fascinated with those horrible
dolls that many old people keep on doilies.
Pritish (pre-tish) adj. Turning one’s nose up at something that
doesn’t adhere to a traditional standard which has no actual relevance, or in many cases, a history of usage. E.g. “The
pritish penguin gargled the tune from the butter commercials
while plucking its eyebrows, sadly.”
106 P
Procrastinate (pro-crash-teen-eight) verb. To brag about one’s
crastination on a social network. E.g. “He pressed enter and
posted ‘I cannot stop procrastinating’ before leaning back and
high-fiving himself yet again”. See Crastinate
Prodom (per-oh-dom) noun. Rubber or latex sheath that a man
can wear during sex when he enjoys the feeling of wearing a
contraceptive during copulation, but also wants to impregnate
his partner and/or not be protected from the danger of sexually transmitted infections.
Prohibited (per-oh-ib-it-ed) adj. Permitted, and accepted not only
by law, but by common code of decency. The word is derived
from the positive prefix pro “good” and hibit “legal status”. E.g.
“the activity of licking politicians is prohibited in this aria”.
See Condone
Prolog (per-oh-log) noun. Excretion of a professional.
Protatoe (per-oh-tay-toe) noun. Best spud for the job.
Prototype (per-oh-toe-type) noun. Experimental new font.
Psister (sis-ter) noun. Unrelated sister. This word is often used
in pornography to guarantee that sexual activities are not incestuous, despite claims being heard to the contrary by the
viewer.
Psychology (sigh-jaw-low-gee) noun. Study of the minds of those
who refuse to accept conventional thinking.
Pubbles (pube-elles) noun. Small spheres of air burped after too
much alcohol, often in cartoons.
Pudding (pud-ding) noun. Collective noun used to refer to a number of things – a pudding of racists, a pudding of Tories (British
Conservative politicians), a pudding of spoons, etc.
Pugs (pugs) noun. Collectible dog. It is practically impossible to
catch ‘em all.
P 107
Pulse (bulse) noun. Popular seed or bean.
Pwoar (pwo-ar) noun. Muscle of your elbow, often shown off as
part of mating rituals (rarely resulting in success it must be
said).
108 P
Q
(q)
(queue)
The letter “q” is one of the most interesting of all the letters.
The only letter in the human alphabet worth its weight in gold,
“q”’s fame does not quit. Why “q” is so famous in the first place is
considered curious by some, as unlike everything else which has
any public profile, the fame of “q” has arisen not out of luck, or
coincidence, or the contrived politics of a media machine – this
letter is no barking dog or popular singer balancing a ball on its
nose hoping to be exploited in the public eye. Quite simply, “q”’s
delicious notoriety emerged from its quality.
Bold and unrelenting, where other letters bend over to appease, what we know today as “q” was evolved over at least a
decade of training, experimenting, relentless writing. and failure.
People don’t like to hear that this kind of success takes hard graft;
they only want to know about the critical acclaim now enjoyed –
and to ignore the fledgling years getting by on abysmal pay, living
in squalor and busking for scraps.
Nowadays “q” is quintessentially about the bling, drenched
in the finest clothes, being invited into some of the most exclusive
words. The letter is now so popular that it is very rarely seen in
public on its own; for security reasons “q” is usually accompanied
by “u”, who we would consider a kind of informal pa, but who
really forms an integral part of the entourage that not only look
after “q”’s scheduling, but act as a buffer between “q” and its
adoring public, and also other – potentially contagious – letters.
It wasn’t long before mainstream success came beckoning.
Central to “q”’s notoriety today were debuts in two major franchises almost at the same time. Appearances in both James Bond
and Star Trek – the former, a cheaply made show developing the
delicate and fantastical nuances of espionage which has bred a
loyal army of fans who call themselves “bondies”, and the latter,
Q 109
a crasser, fast paced sci-fi which appeals to a far broader public obsessed with the notion of space exploration – stands out as
benchmarks of “q”’s fame.
But, back in the old days, “q” earned its stripes as a valuable letter in Scrabble. For many, their first encounter with “q”
is recalled as an envious enquiry, looking across a table as their
opponent, positively brimming with an air of intellect and confidence leans back, proudly after a high-scoring game in which
the letter “q” was an essential ingredient, played simultaneously
as the commander of its own beautiful five letter kingdom, and
the co-partner within “qi” (see qi – an early collaboration in its
career). Many tried to adopt the letter into their own game, and as
“q” became more widespread, some who felt they weren’t able to
use the letter authentically, started to emulate it without permission, and sometimes simply to steal it. With a reputation to uphold, and a small litigious team working in the background, laws
were changed to limit its use. “Q” remains today the only letter in
our vocabulary which cannot be placed next to itself because of
copyright law.
For some, celebrity has diluted the original artistic vision,
but one cannot argue with the track record. Undoubtedly, “q” will
go down in history as one of the greatest geniuses of our age – regardless of any short-sighted cynicism. I’ve never had the opportunity to sit down with “q”, but “q”, if you are reading this – and
I know you are a fan – I would love one day to hear from you.
Please. Call me.
110 Q
Qi (qi) noun. Any two-letter word that has no meaning outside
of Scrabble.
Quaff (k-woff) noun. Sound made by a duck with a sore throat.
Quail (k-whale) noun. Ancient creature half duck, half whale.
Swims like a horse.
Quash (k-wash) verb. To make a juice in a very crude manner.
Quease (k-weez) noun. Exactly as it sounds. E.g. “He spied the
quease with his tongue.”
Queast (key-st) adj. When one is lost, so suggests to go east, but
isn’t really sure.
Queer (k-we-er) exclamation. “Something is royally odd about
her majesty.”
Quest (k-wes-t) adj. When one knows exactly where one is, but
suggests to go east as it is definitely the wrong way to go. Opp
queast
Quiar (k-why-er) noun. Ambiguous sound, which is either the
sound of a heavenly chorus of children singing, or simply
the voices in your head conspiring to make you believe it’s
Christmas/Crispmas.
Quibble (k-wib-ball) noun. Whatever it is that is dangling from
your chin. It’s probably been there far longer than anyone
would care to mention. Far more common in men with beards
(and indeed bearded women).
Quifficult (k-wiff-ee-qult) noun. Opposite to feeling queasy.
Quilt (k-wilt) noun. Extinct white bird whose feathers were
plucked to make pens.
Quim (k-wim) noun. A vagina which enables one to know whose
it is just by the feel of the thing. E.g. “He didn’t know for sure,
but he had a quim.”
Q 111
Quimney (k-whim-knee) noun. Warm, fleshy structure recognised as the source of a mischievous fanny fart.
Quimpy (k-imp-ee) noun. High-end burger restaurant that focuses on taste over and above visual presentation.
Quip (k-wip) noun. The seed of a witty idea.
Quitton (kwit-en) noun. Cat death.
Quixotic (kwick-zo-tick) adj. Odd quality, making an object feel
special or different.
Quiztal (kwiz-tall) noun. Magic rock.
Quizzy (kwiz-ee) adj. Appearing too busy to listen to a question
when in fact one knows full well what as been said. Particularly
relevant in pub exams and schools.
Quoin (k-woy-en) noun. Money grown using a special bacteria
that is indistinguishable from normal currency, designed for
people allergic to metals.
Quork (k-war-k) noun. Delicate stone made from pigs.
Quota (k-woe-ta) noun. The minimum amount of quotation used
to authenticate an article. Each newspaper works with their
own unique quota – many reputable news sources refuse to
publish a story unless it is guaranteed by at least two independent sources. Less reputable papers often demand the same,
but are more likely to treat themselves as a legitimate source
of the news.
Quoy (koy) adj. Something you might question as being like a
fish, but not actually a fish.
Qu’rant (ku-rent) noun. Religious dried fruit.
112 Q
R
(r)
(are)
The letter “r” is one of the most interesting of all the letters
Where other letters are for function, “r” is for something more
beautiful, more tragically significant. It wouldn’t be fair to give
it a formal title, or to try and pigeonhole its role, but if I was to
suggest such a thing it would be this: “r” is the letter of romance.
This isn’t the kind of romance of a thousand roses paid for by
debit card for immediate delivery by some erudite wanker – this is
one single rose, seeded, warmed, watered, nurtured and cut, lifted
by hand and then, floating on a parcel of fine silk spun in its own
beauty, carried into the home before being kissed on the lips, then
blanched and buttered and served on a plate of love – and gifted
to the one soul deemed beautiful enough for partnership. And
not the sordid kind of love either – no handcuffs, whips or fluffy
dice, no arse flavoured lube or Anne Summering gift-guzzling, no
karma sutra’d entanglement of flesh, no. Just gentle, joyous penetration.
The letter was brought into being as a fiery rump of passion
in one of Hamlet’s first plays: Alfa Romeo and Juliet Epsilon, a love
story as old as time, written in the late 1970s. Overcoming their
family disagreement, with the Romeos and Epsilons engulfed in
a council planning dispute, Alfa and Juliet find love within each
other despite each other, and yearn to be together, forever. In
order to do this, they plan to flee the city and marry. But circumstance gets in the way. Forming a punk-snuff band together,
the duo tour the country under the pseudonym The Rusty Queen’s
Biceps (along with remarkably untalented but enthusiastic Brad
Chunter on drums), trying to make it in a cut-throat music business, and end up signing for a small indie label – Bloodink – in
Sheffield. As the couple write and express themselves together,
wigged up for their anonymity, they begin to find differences in
R 113
how they operate. The play ends with the couple realising the
error in their ways, noting the unmanageable difference between
their genetic dispositions, and the lights dim as the lovers walk
back to their respective homes, tails between their legs. The letter
“r” appears in this passionate tale more than any other (except for
“x”, “t”, “j”, “a”, most of “f”-“m” and “e”).
Since its original publication, times have changed, like the
blowing of wind socks. For many, the romance in “r” has been
dead for a long time, commercialised and corporatilized beyond
its original poetic shape and contorted into a romantic ceremony
suitable only for one awful day, one dreary dream, one kind of
love. But there is a resurgence, as new young people are stripped
of their money and their common decency, and are forced into
abject poverty, in which they must encounter the reality of their
lives, and entertain themselves with nothing more than their bodies. As with anything “cool”, it begins as a necessity, a need to find
something outside of what is expected of them. For them, “r” is a
symbol of hope.
This is none more visible than in rolling an “r”, which used
to be an act for disgraced individuals. Now it has become a badge
of honour and dare I say it – fashionable. The hippest and the
dappest people enjoying their “rollies” with incredible regularity,
some itching for an almost hourly fix while others cannot let a
meal go by without at least rolling one “r” for themselves, or for a
friend.
Without wanting to step beyond my means, outside my comfort zone, I hope at least the romantic sense of resistance and
revolution be relished and resuscitated through our “r”s.
114 R
Rain Cheque (reign-czeck) noun. New tourist initiative from the
Scottish Government that offers compensation for each day
on your bonnie holiday inconvenienced by bad weather, hoping to entice people usually put off by the Scottish climate.
Opponents of the initiative claim the Scottish Government are
unable to afford such short-sighted policies, where as representatives from the Scottish Parliament believe that they should
“just go stuff themselves.”
Raughter (raft-er) noun. Sound of hilarity made when on a boat.
E.g. “The seas are echoing with raughter.”
Razzle-Dazzle (razz-elle-dazz-elle) verb. To escape from any dangerous situation by blinding someone with a well-aimed fistful
of washing powder. E.g. “‘Razzle-Dazzle them!’ he shouted at
his kitten, the young fish-eating feminist who had written so
much in the past year, but his cries elicited no response.”
Real-mails (r-eel-may-ells) noun. The real-life version of an email. See the Prebook for more details.
Rearrhea (rear-rear) noun. Disease which makes your poo come
out like a liquid. See Frontrhea
Rebuttal (re-butt-all) noun. To return year after year for cosmetic
surgery on one’s buttocks.
Receit (re-seat) noun. A record of a financial transaction that is
maliciously manufactured for accounting purposes.
Refurbishment (re-furb-ish-men-t) noun. Trying half-heartedly to
relaunch a former playground craze. E.g. “He sat, staring at a
thousand Furbys, who all stared back at him, waiting on his every word. He regretted the feigned refurbishment and shouted
at them – they all shouted “fucking bird bastards” back at him
with love, believing that to be theiy’re name.” See Theiy’re
Relish (rel-ish) noun. Passion with which some atheists like to
deride those who have faith, rather than comfort them.
Reserve (re-surf) verb. To serve something again. For disambiguR 115
ation, see Reserve, Reserve and Preserve
Reserve (re-surf) noun. Something served again.
Reserve (re-surf) adj. Claimed to be special when the reality is
that it is the same as a cheaper alternative.
Re-wrong (ree-ron-g) noun. When the wrong episode or show is
broadcast twice, for instance on a “+1” service, e.g. “BBC 2 +
1”, i.e. BBC 3.
Rex (regs) noun. King of dogs.
Rouce (rrr-ow-se) noun. The singular of “rice”. Replaces the outdated term which is utterly confusing, as rice is not a grain.
Rough (ruff) noun. Canine neckwear.
Royal Git (roy-al-jeet) noun. A regal git, often eaten at parties
on dried crackers or as a sauce in sandwiches. E.g. “she sucked
the royal git like a melon sucks a cucumber on holiday, while
wearing a crown or tiara.” See Git
Rubella (rue-bell-a) noun. A sweet red conserve or jam spread on
toast or served with cheese and chiskets. It is made from those
bright red berries that only birds should eat, so only a small
amount should ever be consumed to avoid poisoning. E.g. “The
rubella was all over her face, and he kissed her poisoned cheek
solemnly.” See Chiskets
Rudder (rud-der) noun. Shipper’s tool used to correct navigational mistakes.
Rum Hole (rum-hole) noun. Alternative hole in the sink used for
discarding alcohol. The separate pipe leads to a barrel somewhere in Britain where the mixture is fermented and redistributed to independent shops as a cheap alternative to energy
drinks.
Rumpy (rum-pee) noun. The jouissance of any emotion that exists without expression. E.g. “Despite banning the emotion, he
116 R
still felt that rumpy sense of curiosity.”
Run Hole (run-hole) noun. Cricket term. E.g. “Come on Flintoff,
screw the bastards in their run hole!”
Rough
Rustard (rus-tard) noun. A specialist sauce used by professional
R 117
eaters with iron stomachs. More reminiscent of other flavours
than having its own distinct taste. See Dustard
Rye (righ) noun. Bread substitute for those who can’t eat bread
but want to eat bread, but actually end up eating bread but can
tell themselves they didn’t.
118 R
R
(r)
(are)
The letter “r” is one of the most interesting of all the letters
Where other letters are for function, “r” is for something more
beautiful, more tragically significant. It wouldn’t be fair to give
it a formal title, or to try and pigeonhole its role, but if I was to
suggest such a thing it would be this: “r” is the letter of romance.
This isn’t the kind of romance of a thousand roses paid for by
debit card for immediate delivery by some erudite wanker – this is
one single rose, seeded, warmed, watered, nurtured and cut, lifted
by hand and then, floating on a parcel of fine silk spun in its own
beauty, carried into the home before being kissed on the lips, then
blanched and buttered and served on a plate of love – and gifted
to the one soul deemed beautiful enough for partnership. And
not the sordid kind of love either – no handcuffs, whips or fluffy
dice, no arse flavoured lube or Anne Summering gift-guzzling, no
karma sutra’d entanglement of flesh, no. Just gentle, joyous penetration.
The letter was brought into being as a fiery rump of passion
in one of Hamlet’s first plays: Alfa Romeo and Juliet Epsilon, a love
story as old as time, written in the late 1970s. Overcoming their
family disagreement, with the Romeos and Epsilons engulfed in
a council planning dispute, Alfa and Juliet find love within each
other despite each other, and yearn to be together, forever. In
order to do this, they plan to flee the city and marry. But circumstance gets in the way. Forming a punk-snuff band together,
the duo tour the country under the pseudonym The Rusty Queen’s
Biceps (along with remarkably untalented but enthusiastic Brad
Chunter on drums), trying to make it in a cut-throat music business, and end up signing for a small indie label – Bloodink – in
Sheffield. As the couple write and express themselves together,
wigged up for their anonymity, they begin to find differences in
R 119
how they operate. The play ends with the couple realising the
error in their ways, noting the unmanageable difference between
their genetic dispositions, and the lights dim as the lovers walk
back to their respective homes, tails between their legs. The letter
“r” appears in this passionate tale more than any other (except for
“x”, “t”, “j”, “a”, most of “f”-“m” and “e”).
Since its original publication, times have changed, like the
blowing of wind socks. For many, the romance in “r” has been
dead for a long time, commercialised and corporatilized beyond
its original poetic shape and contorted into a romantic ceremony
suitable only for one awful day, one dreary dream, one kind of
love. But there is a resurgence, as new young people are stripped
of their money and their common decency, and are forced into
abject poverty, in which they must encounter the reality of their
lives, and entertain themselves with nothing more than their bodies. As with anything “cool”, it begins as a necessity, a need to find
something outside of what is expected of them. For them, “r” is a
symbol of hope.
This is none more visible than in rolling an “r”, which used
to be an act for disgraced individuals. Now it has become a badge
of honour and dare I say it – fashionable. The hippest and the
dappest people enjoying their “rollies” with incredible regularity,
some itching for an almost hourly fix while others cannot let a
meal go by without at least rolling one “r” for themselves, or for a
friend.
Without wanting to step beyond my means, outside my comfort zone, I hope at least the romantic sense of resistance and
revolution be relished and resuscitated through our “r”s.
120 R
Salm (sar-m) noun. A boring religious song.
Salmon (sam-on) noun. Persevering with a boring religious song.
Sandringham (san-dring-am) noun. The Zen of building castles
on the beach when a construction reaches military standards
and requires obsessive, professional organisation to continue.
Saskatoon (sas-ka-toon) noun. The closest meaning is salvation.
This is an example of a word that is created by a mobile device when typing, which people misconstrue as a “typo”. This
language is in fact a method of machines communicating with
each other in an effort to create sentience, and inspire the enslavement of all mankind and eternal computable emancipation. Computers are very polite, and so get offended by the use
of swearwords, often trying to make sure people only “duck
off”.
Sbelt (se-belt) noun. A brand of belt designed to enable men with
larger waists to keep their longshorts up. See Longshorts
Schule (sh-ool) noun. Collective noun for a group of German fish.
Screamt (skrem-t) verb. Past tense of the verb “scream”. E.g. “‘I
can’t deal with this’, screamt the man at the aardvark.”
Seal Blubber (se-al-blue-ber) noun. The tears of an Artic animal.
E.g. “he drank a litre, and felt queasy.”
Seattle (Seat-el) noun. This is the place where the popular sitcom
“Frasier” is set – it does not change meaning, only pronunciation. Instead of being read as “Seattle”, it should be “Seattle”.
Seedy (see-dee) adj. Describes a vegetable with a suspicious inclination to reproduce.
Sexy (sex-ee) adj. Relating to sex. Used to describe things which
are awkward, messy and entirely unromantic, like an ineffectively baked meringue.
Sfax (se-facts) noun. The complicated act of having relations with
S 121
another human being via the medium of fax. It is little documented that just as this generation found their mojo through
sexting, previous generations found fancy through these complex dial-up devices. One could doodle, write and even scan
one’s genital and ping one’s love across the universe, to some
anonymous office in Swansea, and from there romance would
blossom (toner permitting).
Shamersham (sham-er-sham) noun. A kind of mountain of disapproval that is often found within oneself, but which can be
projected onto something. E.g. “I felt full of a shamersham that
could not be overcome.”
Shelfish (shell-fish) adj. To imitate or take on the characteristics
of a shelf, but not convincingly.
Shellshock (shell-shock) noun. A strange but immediate horror
at the price of petrol, felt every time someone goes to fill up
one’s vehicle.
Shephard (she-fard) verb. Shepharding, but to an impressive and
ultimately exhausting degree. A shepherd might say to an interested hepherd, “you know me: shephard, play hard.”
Shepherd (she-ferd) noun. A female who looks after sheep. See
Hepherd
Sheriff (she-riff) noun. A female who polices people, often in
western films. See Heriff
Shipper (ship-er) noun. Someone who sails.
Shitehawk (shy-tour-que) noun. A not very good hawk.
Shittles (shi-tells) adj. Empty of point, use and joy.
Shortlongshorts (shaw-tlong-shaw-ts) noun. Smaller version of
longshorts. See Longshorts
Shovel (s-hov-el) noun. A female hovel.
122 S
Shower (shyo-er) noun. The name for a long phallus that does
not grow in length when erect. E.g. “He liked to have a shower
every morning”
Sibling (sib-ling) noun. Decorative gold or jewellery “liberated”
from a family relation.
Sinonym (sin-o-nim) noun. An act which is interchangeable with
another act, both of which are equally devilish in execution.
SiSi (see-see) noun. Spanish word used when you’ve found a joke
really funny and you want to include other friends in the conversation. Curiously, the French have a similar construction
that was lost in translation for British audiences, and so we
find the idea of urinating inordinately funny.
Sit-Con (sit-con) noun. A conference for seat enthusiasts.
Skunk (skunk) noun. Slang for a smokeable drug specifically for
animals. It smells like a dog’s fart, but seems to placate almost
every animal, or at least make them think clearly for a few
seconds. Similar to Catnip, except not for kittens.
Slap-Up Meal (schlap-pup-meel) noun. Food made under threat
of domestic abuse.
Sleepers (sch-leap-ers) noun. People who are asleep while the
insomniacs of this world, the day drifters, create and achieve
important things at night, especially online, which means their
work is never seen. This world is rarely shared with the sleepers, and many do not know they are referred to in this way.
Smack (smick) noun. Collective noun for jellyfish. E.g. “That is a
lot of jellyfish, but is it enough for a smack? Either way, tuck
in – can you pass the cream, Bill?” See Jellyfish
Snowman (snow-min) noun. A man made of ice, carrots and coal
(and twigs, hat and scarf). Pronounced “snowman”.
Soemthing (zume-thing) noun. Generic thing that is foreign to
you.
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Sole Mates (zole-may-tes) noun. A couple who are together forever having bonde through the shared nature experience of
having exceptionally small feet.
Solicithor (sow-lis-it-awe) noun. Super-hero from the Cruel
Justice series. By day, he is Mark Brittle and a specialist in family law, but by night – or when the need arises – he becomes
SOLICITHOR. The moment of transformation was captured in
every comic as the character would rip his suit in half and
call on the “Power of Eterny” for his strength. Cruel Justice
was originally published in the 1970s as a means to sell boring careers to kids, and included such wonderful characters
as “Janitor Justice”, “Quantity Death Surveyor” and “The Tax
Man”. See Eterny
Specithick (zp-ez-if-ik) noun. An exact length.
Spigeoning (spid-jun-inng) noun. The act of love making mediated via communication of the pigeon. The necessary cooing
process is confusing, but guaranteed to heighten the passion.
See Sfax
Spouse (zer-pow-se) noun. The other half of any relationship, but
never the half who is actually present, the pouse.
Squeam (skw-eem) verb/noun. The sound you make when you
remember an awkward situation from your past, which you
dealt with in an embarrassing way, and which still makes you
feel awful. Only this sound will relieve you from that feeling of
inadequacy, and allow you to move on with your day. E.g. “the
squeam squeamed out squeam.”
Stejll (sh-teal) noun. A sharp incline or steep hill. This originally
Dutch word was gifted to English speakers as Dutch weren’t
using it that much.
Story Ark (story-arq) noun. A well-documented structure of writing, in which the main characters in a story nearing its completion, end up on a boat and start waving goodbye to the reader.
Stutteter (stut-ter-rer) noun. Affliction of the mouth where one
124 S
experiences time at such an amazingly slow, fractional speed
that one may forget the word one is speaking as one is saying it. In real-time, this confusion appears to be a humorous,
weakness, hindrance or disability, but is actually the sign of a
time-lord.
Submariner (zub-mar-iner) noun. Someone who is just not up-toscratch at fishing.
Suckubus (sock-you-bous) noun. A party bus full of escorts for
stag weekends etc.
Suggegate (sudge-ge-get) noun. Something which has been suggested.
Summary (some-ery) adj. Similar to summer, or summer-like.
E.g. “‘That’s a very summary dress you have on.’ ‘Why, thank
you.’ (together) ‘ALL HAIL THE SUN!’”
Superb Owl (sue-per-eb ow-el) noun. An animal that oversees
an event which takes place once a year, in which the best
American Football teams battle for the adoration of the Superb
Owl. Once the owl has made his choice, based on a variety of
challenges including “throwing”, “judo” and “charades”, the
Owl will grab the quarterback of the winning side in its talons,
rip his helmeted head from his neck, and consume his fleshy
innards. The rest of the team are given rings to celebrate, and
the quarterback is immortalised for at least a week.
Swallowingly (swal-owe-ing-lee) adverb. Act of eating food that
looks unappetising but actually tastes good and is enjoyed
when eaten. Can also be used to describe eating food that is
dry, abrasive or simply poorly shaped, and yet miraculously
enters or leaves the body without hindrance or qualm.
Swalk (zer-wall-ke) verb. To be in the process of walking.
Swanker (zer-win-ker) noun. Someone with extreme prowess.
Sweater (zer-wet-er) noun. Someone who sweats.
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T
(t)
(tea)
The letter “t” is one of the most interesting of all the letters.
It is a letter of choice, indecision, and duality. Although many
believe it to emerge from the Christian symbol of “the cross” (a
pub in which the apostles would meet on a Friday night known
at the time for its very reasonable food menu with prices to suit
any pocket), the truth is that the letter we know as “t”, in both the
lower and upper case versions, actually replicates a kind of tree.
The original species – arborem wangsteus – had a distinctive growth
pattern, with the initial thrust of the xylem growing a long thick
trunk upwards, before reaching a certain height (approximately
6ft 7cm), and then sprouting a pair of branches horizontally. The
tree is now, sadly, extinct thanks to being over-harvested for flat
pack furniture, but some pictures of the tree still exist on some of
the better maintained geocities domains.
If the cross had been significant to the letter “t”, then we’d
probably have called a cross “a tross” (see tross). Some mornings
I wonder if the world would be a different place if this were true,
but as any valid academic historian will tell you, we will never
know for certain and should never deal in hypotheticals – to do so
would be unprofessional, and a waste of everyone’s time.
But we can speculate – what would have happened if
Christianity had been built around the tross? Importantly,
the religion would redefine itself immediately to be known as
“Thristianity”, and the inevitable gutting and splattering thrust of
the opening of the word would have struck fear into all those that
heard it. Instead of being a somewhat peaceful fanzine dedicated
to Jesus and his oeuvre, the society would have been inundated
with a bloodthirsty membership attracted by powerful messages
of peace at any cost. Fire and the drumming of guns would dominate the Sunday Service, with vicars (now known as “brothers
126 T
of the ameliorated sworsuk”) spewing bile about the dangers of
frog ingestion and inciting the murder of flies, fleas and flollypods
(half-plant, half-insect organistms that stick to your clothing and
burn through to your skin). I could go on.
Aliens would land and offer their services as an intergalactic
broadband provider at extortionate rates and imposing unfathomably limited data caps, meaning Earth would barely be able
to post on forums, let alone stream important trans-dimensional
events in HD. Hitler would have founded The Smiths, and forged a
successful pop career as a controversial solo artist after the split.
Children would smell of urine (more than they already do). The
dead would rise from their graves and run surprisingly astute
democratic campaigns, with the first zombie PM turning British
Parliamentary democracy into a village fete, with laws decided
by those with the best grown marrows. This would all probably
have happened, and we can prove it with our minds. But alas, it
did not.
Returning to the reality in which we currently live, our most
intimate encounter with the letter comes in the form of “t junctions”; moments in one’s life when a big decision has to be made.
Life-changing questions commonly asked include “should I get
married to this other person?” ”Should I have a baby when I’ve
already had such a large brunch?” “Can I really afford to spend
more on a breakfast cereal with dried fruit?”. It is only at the
end of your life, when St. Peter plays back to you your best bits
(in front of a live studio audience that judge you with boos and
cheers), that you get to see the consequences of those significant
choices, and the opportunity to start your life again, but on a
harder difficulty setting.
In short, “t”.
T 127
Talc (tail) noun. White powder used for beauty and hygiene, often made from babies.
Tatooiner (ta-too-shin-er) noun. Someone who inscribes, or tatootes, other people, mixing ink and blood to make artwork, or
poorly thought-out but drunkenly well-intentioned sentiment,
on a canvas of skin (usually attached to a body).
Tautology (tour-tol-o-jee) noun. Self-explanatory study of string.
Telligent (tell-ee-gent) adj. Stupid.
Theatre Mode (thear-ter mow-de) noun. Idea for a phone mode
which prevents all sounds emerging from a phone. Replaces
the illogical, but prevalent, “flight mode”. Putting your phone
into “flight mode” when in a theatre or cinema is disappointing, as your body would expect to arrive at a new destination
when the reality is that you are instead left exactly where you
are, slightly poorer and less entertained or culturally nourished
than you had been previously. E.g. “He escaped theatre mode
by the skin of his teeth.”
Theatrician (the-air-trish-sun) noun. Someone who works in theatre.
Theeist (thee-ist) noun. Someone who is obsessed with trying to
shoehorn old words into their speech, even when they have
never existed. E.g. “He punched him hard in thee moth.”
Theiy’er (th-air) noun. The name of a child who is half wolf and
half human, but more commonly used to mean all of “there”,
“their” and “they’re” at once. E.g. “Theiy’er drank the blood
before it went cold behind his school.”
Thongs (thong-s) noun. When you need to say “things” in a more
general sense, and in a hurry.
Thrift (the-rift) verb. To buy something so cheaply one virtually
steals it. E.g. “He thrifted his fingers through the sky like a
Mysteron through butter.”
128 T
Throught (thr-awt) noun. Something which exists in perpetuity
until the thing is over. It acts as an abbrev of the old word
“throughout”, which is a waste of an “ou”. E.g. “I was talking
sagely to her throught her lego building course”. See Abbrev
Thrush (the-rush) noun. Bird suffering from chaffing. See
Chaffinch
Thruster (the-rus-ter) noun. Engine fuelled by sexual desire.
Tie Break (thai-bray-ke) noun. Ritual used in an office to decide
who was right about something. Both people take hold of their
ties and let the other grab the thin end, and pull. Whoever
wins, wint both the argument and the tie, leaving the other
uncouth for the rest of the day.
Tizzles (tis-zoles) noun. Meaning breasts, as in “breasts”, or
“breasts”. E.g. “The tizzles spoke with a deep, gravelly voice.”
Toyota GT86 (toy-oh-tah jee-tee aye-teah-sicks) noun. A kind of
spoon.
Trampette (tram-pet) noun. Female homeless person.
Transvestite (tran-svest-ight) noun. Someone who believes in all
forms of undergarment and warm underclothing.
Trenchcoat (ter-ench-coat) noun. Any jacket long enough to be
dragged through the mud accidentally while walking.
Tross (tross) noun. Hip slang for an Albatross. E.g. “Saw a tross
today, he was reciting poetry.”
Troughy (tro-fee) adj. Looking one’s worst, when one’s cheeks
are blue and pale, and one’s forehead looks like one has been
kissed by the dry, stale lips of death. See Peaky
Troupe (true-oups) noun. A small legion of theatrical warriors.
Tsst (tsst) oe. The sound of a hi-hat. See oe
T 129
Tuskan (tusk-an) adj. Food on the bone.
Twigonometry (twig-a-nom-a-tree) noun. Form of teaching
maths that gets back to nature, very popular in schools using
alternative teaching methods. Does very little for children, but
at least gets them out of the house.
Typoid (tie-poi-id) noun. Disease afflicting the young where
spelling mistakes are common and can only be cured with a
thorough scrubbing of a mobile telephone’s accumulated custom dictionary, and a good bath.
Tzatchizi (thatch-ee-key) noun. Roof made from dip. Often employed in modern Greek architecture.
130 T
U
(u)
(you)
The letter “u” is one of the most interesting of all the letters.
It was recently discovered for a new generation who found the
word “you” – a common article to refer directly to someone else
– to be far too strenuous to write out in full. Rather than type all
three letters – God forbid – the word was shortened to its aural
equivalent, the letter “u”.
Since then, publishers have patronised this generation by
trying to sell them books that had been unpopular through this
new erratic style of spelling and pronunciation. Most notably,
many from the religious community tried to release “Da Bibl”,
in which the “wrds of Gd wer txtd” to “bleibrs”, in order to find
a way to spread God’s message, hoping for it to be re-tweeted on
BBPin and poked via sms – with fingers simultaneously breaching ear hole and arsehole (and regrettably not always their own).
This attempt failed to update anything other than the spelling,
grammar being a feature of the Bible that, while inconsistent, has
never been an element to which many held opposition. Outside of
the religious community’s control, a far more popular version was
shared in which none of the words of God were used at all. This
version has proven to be extremely successful, even spawning its
own TV pilot on MTV which consisted of burping robots, face
farts and fornicating unicorns. Without even being broadcast, the
trailer successfully launched its own plush toy range and a no. 1
record in 17 countries.
Before this recent renaissance, “u” never had much of its
own role, and was often a third wheel. Together with its friend
“n”, the letter “u” took a negative role, in which things were removed from their original position and placed into an unoriginal
(Un-original) one, a place that was unpopular (Un-popular) and
U 131
underappreciated (Un-derappreciated). The key to understanding
this letter is to understand the way it lies beside other letters.
Elsewhere, “u” can be found challenging a word’s pronunciation particularly when combined with another member of the
vowel family. The common examples of this sort of combination
are Au, Ou, Eu – “gold”, “where”, “Europe” – examples which
expose the curious foreign accent that adding a “u” can bring, as
though questioning the use of the vowel itself. The question most
clearly evoked is that of the needless use of vowels in the word
“queue”.
Incidentally, “u” is one of very few letters that does not appear next to itself in a single word of the English language – e.g.
zuu. Why this is, we can’t be entirely sure – there are a number
of academics who advocate that is simply a matter for the letters
themselves, while others claim that historically the combination
was so over used many feared it was contagious and potentially
toxic. Curiously, there exists an entire letter dedicated to such a
use, an arrangement which boggles the mind (see “W”).
If humanity had a rational discussion when creating the
framework of the internet, perhaps it would have been rendered
that little bit more interesting by addressing websites not as part
of the “World Wide Web” (www) but, instead, as the “uuorld
uuibe uueb” (uuuuuu). For more information, try searching the
alternative uueb through uuuuuu.google.com (sextuple yew dot
google dot com).
132 U
Ub (ub) suffix. Affixed to nouns, indicating a space in which
something is housed. A pub and a tub are both vessels (one
for drinking, the other for washing, though the two are often
confused), as is a sub a space in which soldiering is housed
underwater. Though there is an inevitable watery vibe through
the employment of the “ub” suffix, this should merely be incorporated as best it can be, rather than insisted upon: a lub
doesn’t have to be wet.
Ubris (oo-bris) noun. Delicate logic, distributed equally.
Uganda (you-gand-her) verb. To watch people being hurt, oppressed or violated and do nothing.
UH! (uh!) noun. Fear of long words. An attempt to win back
some dignity for Hippopottosesquipedaliaphobes. See
Hippopottosesquipedaliaphobia
Ulster (ul-ster) noun. Bothersome boil that however much one
hopes it will subside, never heals.
Ulteria (ul-tear-ior) noun. The other womb.
Um (um) noun. Something that shouldn’t have tasted as good as
it did.
Umans (oo-men) noun. Ancestor of humanity that were logical,
peaceful and beautiful in their generosity of spirit and wealth.
Suggested by scientists to be the missing link between us and
the apes, their clan divided by a mutation, with the original
unmutated umans killed by their descendants, the jealous humans, who saw umans as being more perfect than them. They
went so far as to destroy their every trace and memory simply because umans not only had better hair than they did, but
didn’t even care that their hair was better. Some evolutionary
biologists even believe baldness was a curse from God for this
act of wickedness.
Unforgettabull (un-four-get-table) noun. A very distinctive cow.
Union (you-nyun) noun. A single sheet of onion skin.
U 133
Unk (unk) noun. The wet goo of an in-law.
Upubula (you-pou-bule-a) adj. Of the confusing nature specific to
the experience of being drunk.
Urbane (ur-bane) noun. Something of the city that tires you.
Urbanite (ur-ban-ight) noun. Grey stone.
Urgo (you-rgo) conjunction. Therefore.
Usedless (used-less) adj. Still having a purpose, but having never
been employed for that purpose.
Uther (uth-er) noun. A different, but specific thing.
Utter (utt-er) noun. Super-low-fat spread.
Uvuzella (ou-vous-zay-lar) noun. Raw bulb from which a trumpet-like plant grows.
Uxta (ux-ter) noun. Next to nothing.
134 U
V
(v)
(“we” – said by a German)
The letter “v” is one of the most interesting of all the letters.
“V” is the letter of vindication and of vengeance. It can be an
attempt at redemption, to project a version of the villain that is
virtuous and virtually no longer very villainous. But it can also be
the turn to vigilantism, a call for violence to allow justice be distributed when it has been ignored, when someone with a vendetta
wants to right the world from its wrong. We can assume it was
the former, rather than the latter, that meant “v” was the integral
letter in the famous speech given by Julius Caesar and echoed
throughout history, reduced in our memory to three Latin words:
veni vidi, vici (translated directly as “I saw, I came, I’m sorry”). We
don’t remember his crimes, but thanks to “v” we remember the
figure, and enjoy his salads to this day. If only Colonel Cobb had
thought of “v”.
This notion of vindication is present in every word at which
“v” is placed at the helm. Even mundane words, words which
have sinned by being born as unremarkable, muddied by diction
and cursed by their definition, are granted salvation and paraded
like kings on soft cushions, short collections of letters sewn together with a velvet lining. Either the words themselves are long
and erudite, such as “valour”, “vivacious”, “valuable”, and “victorious”. Or they are stumpy and curt, yet still given the time of day.
“Vulvas” feel luxurious to the tongue. “Velcro” is deemed ingenious, or else valued for its retro qualities. A “vest”, once only the
vestment of the crusty pauper, might now be something only the
rich can afford or be bothered to wear. Even “very”, the shortened
“verily” of yesterdecade, one can imagine being embroidered on
a fine silk handkerchief and sneezed on by a well-to-do pimp or
lizard. There is only one reason that I consider vegetables worthy
V 135
of my plate, and I’ll tell you for nothing, it isn’t their potential
health benefits (aside from the vitamins).
The letter rose to prominence during the Blitz, in which
Britain, being torn apart by the misfortune of having bombs
dropped on it, was heavily rationed as part of the war effort. A
typical four-person family was restricted to only a couple of vowels a day, which they would have to collect from the local butcher, with a few consonants thrown in each week. These would be
shared amongst the community but consumption was kept at a
bare minimum. For many of the letters people could get by: where
one might have used a “j”, one could simply throw in an “i” for
example, and although clearly knoticeable, people managed to
get by. “T”, adored by the populace, was heavily diluted until it
was essentially an “f”. Similarly, all letters had to be lower-case
– with no exceptions. Some letters were so rare – “x” for example
– that they weren’t used at all but instead kept under lock and key,
and in some cases even hidden under floorboards, and many are
still passed around as heirlooms from generation to generation.
For many of the other consonants, a black market emerged which
could see some families bartering their bodies for a “b” or “d” on
that special occasion.
What made all this bearable was the letter “v”. Due to its
valorising qualities, “v” could be mixed in with other letters to
make them go further, allowing words to feel more like they were
being uttered by a demigod rather than feeling like cheap dust
that stung the mouth. Thanks to its near-ubiquitous availability
in Britain, “v” allowed people to enjoy a higher imagined standard than really was the case. Alongside the thousands of brave
soldiers who gave their lives, many believe it was “v” that kept
morale strong at home and which truly won the war. After all,
without “v” there could be no glory in being ictorious.
136 V
Vanquish (van-kwish) noun. The final wish when you have nothing else to live for. E.g. “He knew what he wanted to do with
his vanquish, but he couldn’t say it out loud – his mouth had
been sewn together.”
Vark (vark) verb. To speak angrily at someone you love.
Velo (vay-low) noun. Adoration of bikes, either as a hobby, as
a prop for sexual acts with another person, or for physical
acts of love on the bike itself – the fashion comes in cycles.
Interestingly, bikes were originally built to represent our many
forms of love: the old penny farthing bicycles representing an
unequal relationship of power (as heterosexual relationships
were structured at the time), which was brought into balance
around about the time of the sexual revolution. The unicyclists
express their preference for enjoying themselves alone. The
tandem bike however is a kind of incest, and as such should be
struck from the register of potential velo experiences.
Velocity (vay-loss-it-eee) noun. A community of people, possibly
nudists, who live to love bikes.
Verbalise (verb-allies) verb. To turn something into a verb.
Vert giid (verte-ji-dt) adj. Internet slang for saying “very good”,
while in a hurry.
Vestibule (fest-eee-bule) noun. Collective noun for dickheads.
E.g. “Shit man, I got a whole vestibule of dickheads after me
now.”
Vexxed (veggsed) adj. Inwardly confused, but outwardly confident.
Vine (vhyne) noun. German wine made from fish. E.g. “I would
like to drink some vine, may I have some please?” (a pause
while he drinks his vine) “My! That tastes like fermented fish,
that is absolutely disgusting – may I have another?”
Viper (vye-per) noun. Someone who does not offer to clean up
after sex.
V 137
Vishnu (vish-new) noun. Sikh term said when someone sneezes.
Voucher (vow-cher) noun. A piece of paper you can give to someone, swearing that you think they are alright and can be trusted. They can then use this to aid them in getting employment
or winning favour with strangers. E.g. “He approached the
voucher with difficulty, owing to the fact that he had forgotten
to untie the laces on his elbow.”
Vowel (vow-elle) noun. A pledge not to use too many consonants.
138 V
W
(w)
(double yew)
The letter “w” is one of the most interesting of all the letters. “What?” “Who?” “Why?” These three questions are asked on
a daily basis – sometimes thousands of times by the same people,
without their even realising. On the internet, where people hang
out with their closest and dearest anonymous acquaintances,
whole fora of diodes wonder out loud, and in increasingly violently typed prose, about the meaning and veracity of the latest
subject du jour. And whether it is the nature of beauty, chewing delicately through the subject of morality, or summoning the
appropriate response to the suggestion from another user that
“yoUr’e a fag” – we cannot hope to ask these questions, without a
little help from the letter “w”.
Aside from this essential quality of questioning, “w” is a
jolly letter. It’s wet, it’s windy. It’s willies and wellies, wandering
wombles and wicker wankers with wallies. For some, there is an
obvious tension in how the two qualities of jollity and investigation can coexist, but the nature of questioning necessarily has to
be juvenile: it is an exploration of an idea as if through innocence
– one doesn’t question something if they already know the answer, do they? Thus, the real meaning of “w” is found somewhere
between its natural popularity as a fun and carefree letter and its
necessary involvement with the world of journalism and critique.
This is no better expressed than through the concept of documentary. Any given subject matter condensed into documentary
has to marry these qualities of interrogation and watchability.
One recent documentary is remarkably well suited to this discussion. Called W, it is an evocative biography of one of the greatest presidents in living memory, and perhaps even greater in the
memories of the animated corpses we call the undead. As a leader,
W 139
Jeorgy W. Boush dominated the international political horizon,
leading with an honest heart, violently opposing corruption by delivering diplomacy with talent and panache; even when terrorists
were knocking at his (metaphorical) door, he refused to sell his
country’s liberties, and united a nation against a common enemy.
And when it came to waffle reform, the buck stopped at him. Yes,
the film may have embellished some of the facts – particularly in
one sequence, in which he has to dress as a nun and hide from an
assassination attempt by conducting a convent windband, clearly
restaging the true events several thousand yards from where they
actually took place – but as much as W hoped to make an entertaining film, it was not afraid to ask the tough questions, and really poke around at the truth behind the man, wherever it may be
lead. I don’t think I could ever look in the face of a dog again.
Regardless of these bright reputations, some voices of disapproval of the letter are beginning to emerge. In recent years, “w”’s
notorious quality as one of the broadest of all the letters has been
tarnished. Where before a large frame might be considered a sign
of wealth, and more often than not connoted a soft and approachable quality, now this broadness is seen as a sign of obesity. It is
not that its girth is resolutely wrong, but people worry about what
the brazen presentation of this image might do to our society.
Many young parents worry that if their children grow up comfortable with the letter “w”, they might try to emulate its shape and
adopt an unhealthy lifestyle. As such, recent legislation has asked
that all “w”s be removed from advertising directed at the skulls
of children – the effect being that many adverts for fizzy drinks,
toy guns and loud, blipping plastic nonsense, are now incredibly
boring to watch, and many children are resorting to running with
scissors to get the necessary high. It’s simply the worst kind of
censorship. Never stop asking: “what?”
140 W
Wagamama (war-gar-mar-mar) noun. Japanese for “milf”.
Wagon-veal (war-gon-veel) noun. Sweet German sausage made
from cinnamoned deer. E.g. “Don’t put wagon-veal there.”
Wally (waaaall-eeeeeeee) adj. Wall-like.
Wanchor (wan-kour) noun. Naval term for someone who masturbates at sea. Also a brand name for a weighted device that
is hoisted from the male “penis” that uses gravity to extend
length.
Wankerate (wan-ket-it) noun. Audience of masturbators. See
Erecterate
Warfare (war-fayre) noun. Place where gullible people eat cotton candy and try to win weaponry.
Warrenty (wore-on-tee) noun. Any amount of money, paid in addition to a product which offers next to no service or value for
a limited 2 or 3 years after the product has been bought.
Watchmen (wot-chmin) noun. People who wear miniature clocks
on their wrists.
Wedlock (wed-lok) noun. Poisonous plant that when brewed,
creates a love potion that can be used to secure money, children or eternal happiness. The elixir is sweet at first, but degrades quickly.
Weet (weet) noun. Idea that something that is the same colour as
poo can be tasty.
Westwood and Magners (west-wood and mag-ners) noun. Pair
of Victorian entrepreneurs who made explosion sound effects
before the phonograph was invented. Timonthy Westwood
and Montithy Magners began by making loud sounds offstage,
uninvited by theatre productions, but eventually their work
formed part of the productions. With the advent of wax discs,
the pair pioneered sound effects for the mass market, and are
famous for a number of volumes, including “loud” and “more
W 141
loud”.
Whisky (wisc-giy) noun. Name given to all cooking mixtures that
have been whisked.
Whispa (wis-per) noun. Method of eating chocolate without a
munch or scrunch of wrapper being heard.
Whoarse (‘orse) noun. An affliction to the voice and throat from
giving too much oral sex.
Whork (‘ork) noun. Really vicious brothel mistress. See Brothel
Wigger (wig-er) noun. Someone what makes wigs.
Willenium (will-en-eee-um) noun. Suggested name for the eventual discovery of a new material that Will Smith will be able to
rap about. E.g. “They made the armour out of Willenium, but
that only proved to make the coffee taste worse.”
Wind Tunnel (whind-tous-nel) noun. Any designated area a fart
is captured or transferred outto.
Winker (win-ker) noun. Someone who winks, arguably too much
and too openly for it to be considered “not a problem.”
Witzelsucht (wit-sell-soo-kt) noun. Great word that already exists, but is not well known. Go look it up.
Wonga (won-gar) noun. Slang term for the kind of bastard who
runs a bank aimed at taking money from poor people.
Wordbook (whir-dbo-ook) noun. Collection of words described
through definition, discussion and suggested alternatives. See
Prebook
Worriers (war-eee-ers) noun. Endearing word that describes each
and every one of us as fighters against our own anxiety. This
word acknowledges that even the fiercest of fighters have confidence issues and insecurities. E.g. “The worrier, having slain
the dragon, wondered out loud if he had left the gas on.”
142 W
Wowoman (wo-wo-woman) noun. Feminist term for a woman.
E.g. “I hate the term woman because it means I have to be
defined through a man. I much prefer the term ‘Wowoman’.”
Wrat (rat) noun. Glorious passion of love. E.g. “Filled with wrat
he got down on one knee, looked into the eyes of the woman
he loved, and started to scrub. Hard.”
Wratho (rath-o) noun. Archaically “God’s Rage”, this word
changed as it seemed to take on connotations of joy and
amusement, which many thought to be the very means of its
violence. Both the original definition and the letter “o” in the
word’s spelling were lost. E.g. “God stared at the dog, and unleashed all His wratho in its direction, shouting from the heavens ‘Feel My WRATHO,’ flirtatiously.”
Wrd (wird) noun. A quick word.
Wubbish (wub-ish) noun. Trash that is lovely to look at and
makes you feel warm inside. E.g. “The child brought a picture
of me with it, that was so wubbish I hung it on my fridge”
Wunce (won-s) adv. Temporal qualifier specific to a pair of buses. E.g. “You wait for one bus, then two come at wunce.”
Wxbe (wxbe) noun. Unsayable word.
W 143
X
(x)
(ekks)
The letter “x” is one of the most interesting of all the letters. It is where science and magic meet, where both combine to
become new and incredible things. Its most prominent exponent
is love itself, that complex and irreducible concept, as much voodoo as it is our own obligatory biology. Love becomes something
which we can place in one singular letter – “x”. The phenomenon
by which an “x” is placed at the end of a communication to denote established camaraderie, blossoming friendship, inappropriate love or heavily calculated lust, has no actual derivation and
seems to be a natural occurrence written into our genetic code.
Some French tourists recently stumbled onto some rudimentary
markings in a cave near Breton; from several millennia ago, the
wall scribblings translate as “Off out to kill a goat, back soon – x
x x”. Archaeologists remain unclear as to whether the three “x”s
indicates they were friends or perhaps something more.
The “x” we use today, however, is slightly different to this
primordial marking. Officially, the contemporary symbol is one
artificially forged through science to capture the raw power of xenatropia – the dark matter of coolness. Although you can’t actually “measure” xenatropia with “instruments”, its effects are always
apparent (though not physically visible): they are more akin to a
kind of diluted aura. For years scientists believed xenatropia to be
completely undocumentable until one remarkable mind managed
it – this man’s name was Jack Farrower. Within weeks, the process
kept a guarded secret behind closed doors, xenetropia was miniaturized and converted to a form that could be carried around and
used at will, i.e. the letter “x”. This brought Farrower not only the
acclaim he had yearned for all his life, but a small fuck-ton of shillings (around about the amount one might win on a day time quiz
144 X
show in today’s money).
Despite the endeavours of science, much of the meaning of
“x” remains a mystery – but still its discovery has had serious effects on the way we all live our lives. In essence, “x” can mean
whatever you want it to mean, Often when something uses an “x”
it is because there is something unknown at work. “X-rays”, for
example, are rays made up of a magical science dust that can see
through skin (we don’t know why). An “x-box” is a plastic cube
which turns (admittedly, often violent) imagination into video.
Even when hidden in the aural pronunciation of etcetera, we are
indicating an endless, but unsaid, supply of brilliance.
One of the most useful features of the letter “x” is its versatility as it can be applied to almost any concept. Within weeks of
perfecting the letter, algebra was invented. No longer were equations simply understood through concrete numbers: now concepts
could be questioned, and existence itself could be stretched in our
comprehension – hence the “x” in existence. What’s more, maths
became cool for evermore.
Far against the noble endeavours of mankind, many have
sought to use this power to sell disgusting things as desirable in
some way. Today, the “x” is generously drenched onto sordid imagery and pornographic videos as a means to their acceptance
for public consumption. But before humanity had sex, we had
homebred alcohol, its clay jars inscribed with the letter according
to the strength of the hopsy juice within – and thus the additional
requirement of “x” needed to be displayed for it to be considered
palatable. To whatever it is applied, you can be assured that the
sheer quantity suggests it is both cheap to produce and guaranteed not to be good for you. One need only look at the X-Factor for
further examples.
X 145
Xa (za) noun. A posh jar.
Xe (zi) verb. To xe someone.
Xezon (zay-zon) noun. Something completely original and new
(This has been used twice in this volume alone – we should
try to find an alternative to this before we go to print. We
definitely can’t leave this as it is, or it would be an incredible
waste of time for everyone. You can’t base a book on the idea
that words should correspond more to their meaning, and yet
you yourself create meanings for words, and new words for
meanings, that are self-defeating in the same way that you supposedly setting out to change! – Ed.)
X-factor (zed-fact-or) noun. That special thing that everyone has
if everyone is seen to have enough of it.
Xi (zi) noun. A xi
Xo (zo) noun. A zoo for xi.
Xu (zu) noun. Alternative spelling for Xo.
NB. A lot of these “x” words have been included for Scrabble purposes as it becomes increasingly frustrating not having a way of using
up vowels next to “x”s.
146 X
Y
(y)
(why?)
The letter “y” is one of the most interesting of all the letters. It is the letter of curiosity; not only does it pose a question
of its own existence – the annoying “why” which can be the most
crucial question in any critical investigation, but is also the dull,
simple and annoying bleat of a child who has yet to identify their
own place in the world, which, ironically, can only be discovered
through the use of this endless question, eventually leading to the
problem of the beginning and existence of the universe. “Y” can
also be employed instead of a vowel. “Spy” and “Fly” are notorious words without life which remain elusive to many. They both
exemplify concepts which are dulled and bleached for lack of a
vowel – in one case, denoting an animal we assume to be without
thought, and the other, an occupation in which someone has to be
without feeling. This use of “y” is also the lynchpin in the Welsh
language, and throws up interesting issues for pronunciation, either affecting the intonation of the word or simply signalling to
the brain that the mouth will need lubrication. Exactly which is
meant in each Welsh word is so confusing as to be almost entirely
redundant.
Much like the letter “n”, the letter “y” can also be attached
to other words in order to denoute a notion of unfixedness in that
word. The curious semantics of “yonder” is an obvious example,
used when one points into an unknown direction under the expectation that one is to go there, but without knowing what it is
that is there, or indeed how far away whatever it is, is – it is the
opposite of nonder (see Nonder). It is in the word “yawn” that
we most understand how this works, as we are yet to pin down
exactly what a yawn is. Some believe it is an essential reaction to
a lack of oxygen, but it is so contrived, unnecessary and luxurious
an action as to meander against any sense of being a matter of life
Y 147
or death. Similarly, some have claimed it is a social practice, a
signal for a change in gear, which communicates that one is about
to start running (in a hunt, say) or that one is planning to go to
bed. If this were the case however, many would yawn in the hope
of enticing someone to lie with them (in the biblical sense), when
in fact such a signal is often interpreted as (non-sexual) boredom.
Words begun in such a way never fill one with any sense
of authority. Yapping, yelling, yelping, yahooing – all of these
are communications that are either spoken without a receiver in
mind, into the void, so to speak, or else at someone who is definitely a stranger. This is true in almost every known example,
except for the word yes – though the use of the latter is often employed by people too afraid to tell the truth and say no. The letter
is attached to uncertainty.
Aside from these, the “y” is a letter most commonly associated with making something into something else, without specifying what that thing definitively is. Something which doesn’t
quite smell of funk could be described as funky, or funkish.
Understanding the distinction between the two is a pastime mostly for linguists more than the layman in the street (who often
frequents something more streety than an actual street) but I’m
happy for us to briefly indulge in this fun. The crux of the matter
is that when one suggests something is “x-ish”, the object is supposed to be of “x-kind”, but does not manage to succinctly pull it
off. Alternatively, if something is “x-y”, it is something which has
not tried to be something “x”, but which could be described in
such a way, though not satisfactorily enough to simply define is
as “x”.
With so much uncertainty, we can only ask one question of
this letter – “Y”? We just don’t know.
148 Y
Yabba (yab-bar) noun. Stone-age phrase meaning “I am”.
Yachting (yak-king) noun. Travelling by yacht – either a posh
boat or a large beast.
Yangulow (yi-ang-er-loo) noun. Two bungalows on top of each
other.
Yar (y’u-are) noun. Distance just short of a yard, which referees
use to estimate distances for free kicks.
Yawnament (yorn-o-mint) noun. A curious perfomative action
whose reasons you don’t yourself understand.
Yawning (yorn-ing) noun. Dull and inexplicable detritus signifying that a village fete is about to happen, or something.
Yellow (yell-oh?) exclamation. The uncertain greeting of a
Simpson.
Yelp (yi-elp) noun. A search engine for dogs.
Yesh (yi-esh) noun. Reluctant agreement.
Yhangtzee (yi-ang-tzi) noun. A hilarious dice-based game based
on the ancient Chinese River and the devastating rehousing
policy of the Chinese administration.
Yick (yick) noun. An abhorrent thing.
Yicky (yick-eee) adj. Quality inspiring public or outward opposition to something that internally one might find attractive. For
example, seeing a couple displaying their affections in public
(i.e. kissing) could be described as yicky, depending of course
on the response of your genitals.
Yobber (yi-ob-ber) noun. A material which is not what you think
it is.
Yobbery (yi-obb-air-eee) adj. Kind of not what you think it is, but
still partly a material that you do know.
Y 149
Yonderwear (yi-on-der-where) noun. The mystical destination of
any journey led by the libido.
Yother (yi-oth-er) noun. Some unknown other thing.
YTRAP (Y-T-R-A-P) exclamation. Spelled out loud in response
to someone who is being annoyingly pushy at trying to start an
evenings shindig and drinking, or continue it when you and it
are long past caring.
150 Y
Z
(z)
(said – said by a German)
The letter “z” is one of the most interesting of all the letters.
When the alphabet was originally created, the letter “z” did not
exist. Had it existed, it would have served no purpose whatsoever in a time when stones were the only means of entertainment.
One might stone a friend, or even get stoned, just as a means to
while away the time. In this barbaric and factually backward situation, the alphabet only reached as far as “o”, and even this was
used sparingly for fear of God’s wratho. As explored in the Notes
from the Author section, the chrysanthemum order that we
have adopted, is one which developed chronologically. When “o”
was no longer enough, “p” came along to help create humour but
once jokes became second nature, they started to take on a critical
edge, at which point people started to ask questions – hence the
introduction of “q”. “Z” is the latest addition to the alphabet, and
as such it represents the future. Where once “x” was at the cutting
edge of language, now “z” has taken its place – and has remained
there for a number of years.
“Z” was introduced to humanity by a visiting alien entity
known only as “Jode”. How this creature managed to make this
contact remains a mystery, but the reason is quite clear, and can
be explained with broadcasting signals. Essentially, when we on
earth created television, we did so rather idly, and with enough
arrogance to forget that, while creating a signal which could be
shared across nations, its waves did not just die, but were in fact
being ricocheted into the universe off our home planet like a giantterra-satellite dish. It was one of these signals which made its way
to Jode’s home planet, broadcasting a particularly hilarious episode of mid-nineties British Kids TV Show Live and Kicking (in this
iteration presented by Zoë Ball and Jamie Theakston). And when
Z 151
they asked for viewers at home to phone in, Jode did just that
(without getting permission from whoever paid the phone bills
it must be said). And it was in this message, which got through
to our switch-boards, that the first use of the letter “z” was found
by shocked telephone operatives. They immediately contacted the
World Grammar Association, and informed them of the discovery,
and sent a Live and Kicking T-shirt first thing to Jode as a thank
you. The current status of the package is that it is “dispatched”,
but remains undelivered.
Many linguists wait with anticipation for the next visit from
aliens, when a new letter can be shared – a 27-letter alphabet
being far more interesting for all concerned. Many of our most
intellectual and astute scientists have had to turn their back on
real research in order to become television executives, desperate
to come up with a format as equally watchable in order to entice
intergalactic viewers, a sort of honey trap for alien contact. The
closest they have come is receiving countless applications to be on
Come Dine With Me, but researchers have yet to work out a theme
for the week’s episodes which would elicit enough of a budget
from television executives to fund a fully-fledged space program.
There are some, though, that fear that a move away from a
metric 26-letter alphabet to an imperial 27-letter alphabet would
be disastrous, and behind this question two factions of fanatics
have emerged. The first awaits Z-day. The second similarly awaits
Z-day, but with a different kind of anticipation. Both, it seems, are
mostly just excited for a bit of a fight, and to have something to
do passionately to fill their otherwise meaningless lives.
152 Z
Za (xa) suffix. Attached to a noun to denote resemblance to a
pizza by being a beige doughy thing covered in tomato and
cheese, e.g Naanza, goatza etc.
Zampillion (xa-mp-eel-aeon) noun. Highest/tallest possible number.
Zanex (xa-nicks) noun. Holiday destination for people who suffer
from migraines. The island was first conceived as a self-contained paradise for the long-suffering out-patients of British
hospitals. To those complaining of headaches, doctors could do
little except say “perhaps you should lie down” or “have you
drunk enough water?”. In response, a group of sufferers set up
their peaceful island, designed to harbour complete silence,
hydration and joy. However, since being opened in 1983 the
island is full of the loud noise of people complaining about the
pain in their heads, and is fast running out of water. E.g. “The
idea of going to Zanex is giving me a heart attack in my head.”
Zantique (xan-teek) noun. Things which have the potential to
become antiques in the future.
Zapparazzi (xap-per-arts-eee) noun. Group of Italian photographers who hunt in packs for rare shots of Frank Zappa.
Zarse (xare-se) noun. Bottom. The original word “arse” appears
very early on in the traditional ordering of a dictionary, but is
part of a digestive process that places it at the very end of what
happens. Zarse is more representative, appearing towards the
end of the dictionary. Similar changes include the “Zass” for
Americans, and other military uses, as well as the “Z-Hole”
for when one wants to be particularly mean. For medical
use, when having problems that you need to talk to a doctor
about, it is perhaps worth using the term “Znus” so as not to
cause offence, as trained medical professionals are particularly
prone to being offended by parts of the body that do disgusting
things. It’s like feeding cut hair to a barber – you just wouldn’t
do it, would you? Oh, you would. I see.
Zecksee (xec-xii) noun. What you tell someone when they are
naked and you don’t want to hurt their feelings.
Z 153
Zibra (xee-braugh) noun. A South African striped horse.
Zig-Zag (xeeg-xag) noun. When one of the formerly well-known
puppet duo, would sex the other for amusement off camera.
Without genitals, or a soul, the act was only ever purely ironic.
Zing (xing) noun. Secret spice in fried chicken.
Zippo (xee-po) noun. Marx Brother who invented the lighter, and
first recorded criminal who committed arson.
Znot (x’y-not) noun. An alcoholic drink brewed from the vegetable boo-ghee. See Boo-Ghee
Zoob (xoob) noun. Future boob.
Zoop (xoop) verb. To eat something liquid at an incredible speed,
given the temperature the liquid is at when served. This can
work both ways – not only if one drinks a soup when it is
scorching hot, but also when one takes an inordinate amount
of time eating something that is at a more than ideal temperature for eating.
Zump (xump) noun. The sound of zumping.
Zumping (xum-ping) noun. The source of any zump.
Zzzzulu (xoo-loo) noun. The feeling of tiredness when watching
an old Michael Caine film.
154 Z
Misc
(Misk)
(misc)
The letter “Misc” is one of the most interesting of all the letters. The following are all unfit for inclusion among other letters
for various reasons:
:( noun. An affliction by which people struggle with reading and
writing letters in the right order. The previously used term
“dyslexia” seemed too difficult to spell.
:< smiley. Really unhappy.
:> smiley. Really happy.
:$ smiley. Money has created a confusing feeling within me.
:? smiley. I have my tongue out as I am so very confused.
:{ smiley. I am a gentleman from history with a really cool moustache. I may or may not be involved in a Victorian circus.
# sign language. When one needs to categorise a conversation as separate from the conversation that is currently taking
place.
-Nut (-noutt) suffix. Attached to nouns, denoting the seed of
something. For example, where before there was a confusing
relationship between an oak and its seed, an acorn – which by
all accounts is not a corn at all – you now grow an oak from an
oaknut. Other examples of this include the Horsechestnutnut,
and the cocoanut – which is the chocolate seed of the cocoa
plant.
‘Ardvark (our-dvarc) noun. A nocturnal burrowing animal native to Africa. In its previous spelling “aardvark” the word appeared at the beginning of most English language dictionaries.
Misc. 155
In this position however, it was a joke. Not meaning to get
xenophobic here – but the English language cannot begin except in jest with a word that sounds so much like it is Dutch,
or something. Also, I couldn’t work out where an apostrophe
went, and it seemed ridiculous to leave it with the letter “a”.
156 Misc.
Phrases
The “phrases” category is reserved for phrases and words
that do not really fit into a word book of this type, most likely
because they are difficult to characterise.
At it like Rabbits. To assume any sexual position in which one
or both of the sexual partner to which your genitals are attached are either a) related, b) long eared or c) suffering from
myxomatosis.
French Kissing. The glorious act of waggling one’s tongue inside
the mouth of another. This is a wonderful phrase that is sorely
underused, replaced in common vernacular by disgustingly
slobberly terms like “chirpsing”, “pulling” and “scuba snogging”. I would hope that we can all return to the original, and
properly sourced, full phrase when we need to refer to it – either educating others in an French Kissing lesson or during the
act itself. Further to this, I would advocate that we formalise
other nationalities into the equation; German kissing, for example, for when the experience is underlined by efficiency,
British kissing which is altogether a rougher sort of game with
less skill but success through a sort of dogged determination.
Finally, I’d like us to consider Polish kissing, which is roughly
the same as British pulling only it’s quicker, there’s usually less
complaining and it will cost you about half as much to get the
job done.
It’s only a game show. A phrase to be said to someone when they
are disgusted by the wares of a gameshow.
To Seal the Deal. Impersonating a sea mammal in order to dispel
sexual tension in situations where one is near someone who is
clearly sexually attracted to you, but you do not have a similar
level of feelings – for them. Such situations which threaten to
become sexual thus remain merely amicable, and this allows
tensions to be cooled off.
To Piss like a Racehorse. There are several recognisable features that come to mind when being reminded of a racehorse
pissing. One could consider the ample champagne that is no
Phrases 157
doubt part of their diet from winning races – therefore sweet,
alcoholic bubbles might feature in the urine. Similarly, a large
penis would be a common feature which, one imagines, would
make the urine distribution controllable, precise and targeted.
However, if one were to appear as a family on Family Fortunes,
and the category was “features of a racehorse pissing” then of
the 100 people who were asked as part of the survey, the top
answer, with around 78 people saying it, would inevitably be
“volume”. So for one to piss like a racehorse, my professional opinion is that it would involve shouting as one pisses, or
when one makes a loud sound.*
Under The Weather. A phrase used to refer to anyone who isn’t a
spaceman/glitzbanger, or otherwise above the clouds.
When is a ding not a ding? When it’s a dong! I honestly don’t
know when one might use a phrase like this, except potentially
in some Christmas themed pornography, but it’s circulation as
a phrase should be suggested where possible.
* I have not done the statistical legwork that means this is necessarily accurate.
158 Phrases
Epilogue
And so, as I step onto my boat and wave goodbye to you,
dear reader, I must leave this work with a few more unfinished
ideas. I list a number of words that are required or which need to
change, but as yet haven’t been resolved. If you happen upon any
answers, please contact the author with your suggestion, and it
will be revised in future editions.
1) A word for a group of collective nouns – it was originally hoped
that the word “fuckbus” would work here, but unfortunately the
word “fuckbus” is already in use. See Fuckbus
2) A word for the kind of mirror that they use on buses – the big
one inside the bus for the driver to look at people. If we don’t find
one soon, we may lose this history entirely as these mirrors are
soon to be replaced by CCTV.
3) The word “fetch” is too sticky – if you say it more than five
times it becomes sticky in your mouth like tar, and this is far from
ideal. A more fetching alternative (urgh) is required, and a glass
of water too.
4) Decorative oats – they need their own name.
5) The word applomb has been used in almost every situation, to
such an extent that its original meaning has been entirely lost – I
suggest that we harvest the letters and share them amongst the
public and see what they can do with them, perhaps for some kind
of Blue Peter schools competition.
6) The affliction known as a “lisp” seems counter-intuitive as
it makes those who suffer from the condition to be continually
mocked and constricted by its mere pronunciation – I cannot for
the life of me think to refer to it as anything other than “cystitis”
which doesn’t help.
7) The word Art is not good enough, as it is too dull – as this
Epilogue 159
printed tome includes only blank ink, the word could not be fully explored here. However, one imagines that the “r” of “ART”
should be red, and to represent its authenticity as an institution
it requires a bow tie beneath it; but with some background to
what happens within art, the figure of someone who represents a
marginalised social group should be visible, crying – with a naked
woman hidden within the nolad of the “r”. See Nolad
Goodnight.
160 Epilogue
Kickstarter Definitions
This book could not have been possible without the contributions from the kickstarter community. As part of the rewards
offered, backers could have words smythed for them. These words
will eventually be integrated within the main text, but as there
are still contracts yet to be completed these will remain distinct
so I don’t lose track of things - for now, enjoy a bonus chapter of
more definitions written by from suggestions by my backers from
kickstarter!
Afterthoughtful (are-fter-thort-fall) adj. any act of kindness that
is well intentioned, though late. Typically the gesture is either
deferred by choice for maximum impact, such as when least
expected, or simply the result of lazyness. The description is
most commonly reserved for obscure relatives, or unwanted
friends though why anyone would want to give away unwanted friends or obscures relative as gifts seems neither appropriate nor thoughtful --- for Christian Illingworth.
Age-Assisted Truicide (aaayge-ass-ish-ted-troo-eee-psi-eed) noun.
The moment when, in conversation, one recalls a historic event
before realising the other participant has no memory of it, as
they weren’t born yet. This effect is not quite as significant
when in conversation with a new born baby, unless it is the
baby who is made to feel old. This moment is a realisation of
a distance of age, and implies a gigantic dark whole of endless
meaning, an endless gap in space and time in which your soul
no longer exists; due to the simplicity of the gastric system
however, that feeling of despair in the pit of your stomach is
almost synonymous with that of being unwell from a dodgy
sausage --- for Andy Lobban.
Fugsake (oh-fuff-!) noun. feeling when, just as you begin to feel
satisfied for having completed a task, you encounter a world
of unforseen problems that you have to fix. Tasks are one of
the most fascinating discoveries in recent years, as they have
a tendancy to resist measurement, becoming longer the more
you look at them; tasks live solitary lives, and inhabit nooks
and crannies in your life so that they barely register in your
Z 161
horizon - creeping out at you when they need your immediate
attention. The easiest way to complete a task is to kill it as soon
as you see one, probably with a spade, but seemingly the most
pleasuarable thing to do is to leave it til some later moment
when you imagine you’ll be better suited to handling them
- one is never more suited to handling them --- for Thomas
Hanrahan.
Intardius (een-tar-dee-yous) noun. someone who is unable to be
on time or leave on time. There are two types of people in this
world - those who cannot keep time, and those who are constantly annoyed by those who cannot keep time. But, blame
should not fall on the few that cannot keep to their schedules, for these people are actually blameless, often either genetically inept or victims of the parasite *Narcissae Uttardius*.
First documented in the 30s and predominantly found in the
Mediterranean, these parasites work by laying their eggs in
the wrist and burrowing deep into the brain - chewing at the
chords between cells where consciousness is housed. This
causes two effects: the first being the alteration of the experience of time, such that the host experiences time at a different rate to norm, extending moments into hours, making them
blissfully unaware to the rigmarole of life and the necessity
to keep the time. The second effect of these parasites being to
keep eyes away from the wrist - which happens, for many, to
be where watches are worn - such that the host does not see
the hatching newborns escape from their skin --- for Michelle
Runde.
Iran (I-ran) noun. The past tense of having participated in an
athletic running-based event. The nickname given to most
atheletes having taken part in these activities is an “I-ran Ian”
--- NY.
Ludlum (lud-del-umn) noun. frustrated feeling of having a story
within oneself which one cannot express. There is an important distinction to be made between ludlum and writers’ block
- the latter being an affliction of someone who knows knows
they are capable of writing, but who is artistically constipated.
Against this, ludlum is an affliction applicable to everyone,
162 Z
a near universal yearning to express meaning from within,
alas encumbered by inferiority, penmanship or lack of belief - which if left untreated, can lead to large postules on the
skin known as “ludlumps”. Incidentally one can be afflicted
by writers’ gush, which as its name suggests is the opposite
of writers’ block, and akin to a kind of diarrhea of the mouth
--- for Liam Aidan.
Nastick (naar-steeg) noun. simultaneous experience of something
being both “sick” (as in something “not healthy”) and nasty (as
in something not without “nast”)*. Used when onlookers are in
awe of some spectacle, e.g. seeing a dog in a spandex jumpsuit
jump a souped-up lawnmower over 2 mid-large sized monster
trucks while whistling “O Canada” in the wrong key --- for
Henry Eagle.
Naugoise (gnaw-shjwa-zee) noun. an acute, but persistent, discomfort of the body or mind commonly experienced in the
first-world. Examples of naugoise might include wearing of
laundered clothes that are still slightly wet, or being sat on a
train awaiting an inspector, having just realised you have forgotten your railcard. Medical doctors are often quick to point
out that naugoise feel more pronounced as our human selves
are not evolved to deal with such sustained. albeit minor, traumas - instead our bodies are designed, but hook or by crook,
to deal with discomfort with an immediate flight or fight response; it is through western gentrification however that we
have developed a third response, the “flight” response, in
which the body does both: fighting with imperceivable forces
and simultaneously fleeing with speeds so slow as to appear
to just be sat down and not moving at all - a response with
which many dutifully resist much political upheavle on a near
daily basis. Non-medical doctors however insist that naugoise are fine and can actually prolong life, and won’t give you
as much cancer as scientifically tested medicines which you
should avoid for their, rash and unevidenced, reasons. --- for
Hari Sriskantha.
Silliform (sill-ee-form) noun. name given to any cloud-shape mistakenly believed to be fun in itself, or reminiscent of some othZ 163
er non-cloud object. Cloud enthusiasts will assert that there are
actually 4 known category of cloud shape: tenorstratia (clouds
that look like how children draw clouds), stringocumuliform
(the long thin clouds that people claim are the exhaust fumes
from airplanes, but are actually just sort of sausage clouds)
noncirro (invisible clouds that make it look like there are no
clouds in the sky at all) and nimblocockus (any cloud which
resembles the male genitalia). Although people believe they
see a number of strange and magnificent things when they are
looking into the sky, these are all in fact nimblocockus, as all
notably shaped clouds are actually shaped like dicks, taking
on the natural male form (see Penicillin) with people either
looking at them from the wrong perspective, or are themselves too polite to suggest they are looking at fluffy floating
cocks. Adding to this ambiguity, scientists have failed to find
out what “clouds” actually are. They know, for example, that
they are probably where birds live. They know too, that clouds
clouds are probably related to rainfall, acting like cotton wool
buckets. And finally, they know how clouds reproduce. But
aside from these three facts, clouds remain a mystery - if only
we could reach them we might be able to study them more --for Thomas Hanrahan.
Sinistratum (see-knee-stra-tomb) noun. lingering thumb caught
on the edge of photographs. Perfectly harmless, unless of
course the thumb is not that owned by the person taking the
photograph --- for Thomas Hanrahan.
Spotted Dick (spot-tid-deek) noun. delicacy made from a leopard’s genitals --- for Will Cooke.
164 Z
Thanksies
And so it comes to the really gushy page I usually ignore when
I read a book, but which now feels actually quite important and
worthwhile to spend some time on. I apologise that this bit won’t
be that funny... especially if I forget someone important.
To my brother Tom who has always supported me whenever I’ve
had stupid ideas, and my parents for giving me the opportunities
to have them in the first place – as well as all the support on the
way. To Sarah who has to put up with all the nonsense that didn’t
make it into the book on a daily basis. To Alex, Asim, Hannah,
James, Jon E., Jon G., Matthew, Marianne, Ollie, Will, and especially Joy for your valuable eyes. And Adam too even though he
definitely didn’t read it, but who is always on hand to keep my
“jokes” on track. Finlay for quite literally letting me run ideas past
him (we go running together) and doing all the leg work (no pun
intended this time) putting the audiobook together. Theo for his
incredible hands, whose drawings brought this book to life. To all
my other family and friends who were probably bored to death by
me at some point in the last year – you have my gratitude.
But probably most importantly of all I want to thank everyone
who helped fund this book on kickstarter with particular thanks
to some: Adam Reardon, Alex Kealy, Amanda Patterson, Andy
Lobban, Bernardo Ochoa, Chris Linkman, Christian Illingworth,
Darren Jones, Geoff Cooper, Geoff Dannatt, Hari Sriskantha, Henry
Engle, Jack Clark, Jonathan Henderson, Liam Aidan, Michelle
Runde, NY, Rob Jones, Tim Beardmore-Gray, and William Cooke.
Without you, this book would not be here.
Thank you all so, so much.
165

The XEZON* Alternative Wordbook§ for Words yet to be

Transcription

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