It’s dawn chez Docx and I am lying in the sumptuous Arcadia of my private apartments wondering how best to carry out the Herculean labour with which I have been tasked: namely, to review the packed and teeming 1480 pages of the 19th edition of Brewer’s Dictionary of Phrase and Fable. For those unfamiliar, this gargantuan work was first compiled by a certain Dr Ebenezer Cobham Brewer and published in 1870. And it contains within its monumental covers the definitions-of, the explanations-as-to, the derivations-from-which, the surmises-about, the references-to, the anecdotes-concerning and the curiosities-pertaining-to pretty much… well, every phrase and fable ever used in this great language of ours. The mother of all bastards to review, in other words.
Worse, in recent days, I have been lamenting out loud the cloth-ears and clacking-tongues of many of my fellow critics, who seem not to have studied either the language or literature of their chosen report—indeed, seem to have little interest or regard for writing at all—and, instead, measure all works on one of two criteria: “likeability” for fiction and “approachability” for non-fiction. At root, my complaint has been about a lack of engagement. But how, then, can I (from atop my high horse) effectively engage with this monstrous work now so fatly disporting itself on my bedside table?
The hour strikes seven. Enter wives, children, supporters, retinue and the rest. Tumult and confusion, joy and tears, laughter, plans, hopes, kisses, bouncings, bundlings, obtuse reports, obscure reprisals, tellings-off and eggings-on. And then amidst all this, the abundance of life, I suddenly have an idea. Yes, I must live the review! I must—quite literally—bring the book to life. My life! I extract myself from the melee, leap from the bed and thus to work.
So: first things first…
Bladder Diplomacy A ploy to extract a concession from the other party in a discussion. The hapless visitor is plied with drinks until he feels constrained to agree to the point at issue in order to excuse himself. The ruse was notoriously resorted to by President Hafez al-Assad of Syria (1930-2000) who, in an apparently generous gesture, offered his guests small cups of black coffee to this end...
Already fascinating. I pop down the seat, wash my hands and switch on my phone.
iPhonesee iPod
iPod The “I”, which may be short for Internet, was inherited from previous Apple products (eg iMac), while “Pod” stands for “personal on demand”… Apple has faced several law suits from its rival companies… and in the course of one legal wrangle, they filed documents acknowledging that the technology behind the device had, in fact, been invented by a British man, Kane Kramer, in 1979. However, when Kramer was unable to secure his funding to renew his patents, the technology became public property.
I had no idea! I thought pod because somehow pod-like. Poor Kramer. But what a great name: Kane Kramer. I run the cold tap to brush my teeth but already my phone is buzzing. Aha, it’s a reminder I have set myself to book tickets to an upcoming performance of the Allegri Miserere at St Martin’s in The Field’s, here in London.
Miserere The 51st psalm is so called because its opening words are Miserere mei, Deus (Have mercy on me, O God). See also Neck Verse.
Neck Verse This verse was so called because it was the trial verse of those who claimed Benefit of The Clergy, and if they could read it, the prisoner saved his neck.
Benefit of The Clergy Formerly the privilege enjoyed by the English clergy of trial in an ecclesiastical court, where punishments were less harsh than in secular courts and bishops could not impose the death penalty… steadily curtailed from the time of Henry VII.
“We have to be at the solicitors for nine,” comes an authoritative female voice from back in bedroom. “Apparently, they need to prove who we are before they can do the conveyancing for us.”
“Where is it?”
“I told you. Their office is just over the river—in Pimlico. We can walk together.”
Pimlico Formerly the pleasure gardens of Hoxton [where the name] is said to derive from Ben Pimlico, a local brewer and tavern keeper famous for his nut-brown ale. A tract of 1598 (Newes from Hogsdon) has: “Have at thee, then, my merrie boys and hey for old Ben Pimlico’s nut-browne ale.” [Ben Pimlico] apparently settled just south of the site occupied by the present Victoria Station… [However] Professor Richard Coates, in the US onomastic journal, Names (September 1995), plausibly shows the name “Pimlico” to have been copied from a place in the USA called Pamlico and to be linked with Walter Raleigh’s abortive Roanoke settlements of the 1580’s. As such it may be the first US place name to be exported to England.
An onomastic journal! I’m stalled before the mirror. Isn’t that...? I quest the hinterlands of a pan-European vocabulary. Surely an onomastic journal would be, in other words, a wanking magazine? Or am I getting confused?
Onan A son of Judah who was ordered to marry his late brother’s wife. In order to avoid fathering children on his brother’s behalf, he resorted to coitus interruptus (‘spilled it on the ground’)… for which sin the violently pro-life God killed him (Genesis 38: 6-10). Hence onanism as a synonym for this technique, as well as more generally for masturbation.
Aha! So, not an onanistic journal—which would, I suppose, quite literally be a magazine featuring masturbators or, at least, coitus interruptus-ers—but an onomastic journal, which would be a magazine dealing with the study and origins of proper names. An easy mistake to make.
“Okay,” I call back to the bedroom, “but I’ll have to meet you there because I’m going to cycle today.”
“Well make sure you take your helmet. There was some guy mowed down outside Oval last night by one of those juggernauts in the bus lane.”
Juggernaut A Hindu god, whose name is an alteration of Hindi, Jagannath, from Sanskrit, Jagannatha, “lord of the world.” The name is a title of Vishnu… The chief festival [in his honour] is the car festival when Jagannath is dragged in his car, 35ft square and 45 ft high, over to another temple. The car has 16 wheels, each 7ft in diameter. The belief that pilgrims threw themselves under the wheels of the car in order to go straight to Paradise on the last day of the festival is largely without foundation…
I emerge from the bathroom—clean teeth and Brewer’s under my arm—to the clamour of a thousand requests. But first I need my tea—I cannot function without tea—ideally Darjeeling Makaibari Second Flush Grand Reserve FT.
Stimulants of Great Men
Bonaparte took snuff.
Lord Byron took Gin and Water.
Lord Erskine took large doses of opium.
Gladstone’s restorative was an egg beaten up in sherry.
Hobbes drank cold water.
Newton smoked.
Pope drank strong coffee.
In the kitchens, I find a beautiful child complaining in strident terms about his brother’s sudden proprietorship of a certain figurine.
“But that’s not his toy,” says he. “That’s mine.”
“What is his toy?” I enquire.
“The Darth Vader one.”
Star Wars The [name of] the villainous Darth Vader may suggest “Death Invader,” but was intended to mean Luke Skywalker’s “Dark Father”… The first name of the youthful hero evokes Greek leukos, light… [And] the name of the ancient knighthood of the Jedi is based on that of Jed or Jeddak, the lords of Barsoom in Edgar Rice Burroughs’s A Princess of Mars.
Father—Vader: of course! But Edgar Rice Burroughs—I would never have guessed! I restore order vis-à-vis the toys. But SIOB—WTF?
Internet Slang and Acronyms
SIOB: sharp intake of breath.
WTF?: what the fuck?
The kettle is going like billy-o for some reason and filling the room with a dense scalding vapour. We’re all going to die in here. Ah, yes, I see what’s happened: last night, some idiot (me) must have taken off the lid in order lazily to start defrosting a pint of frozen milk by balancing it in the steam so as to supply someone in the house with a bedtime drink. And now the kettle can’t switch itself off because said lid was not properly closed.
Like billy-o The word has been derived from the following (1) Joseph Billio, rector of Wickham Bishops, Essex… the first Nonconformist minister of Maldon (1696), who was noted for his drive and energy; (2) Nino Biglio, one of Garibaldi’s lieutenants, who would dash keenly into battle shouting “I am Biglio! Follow me, you rascals, and fight like Biglio!” (3) Puffing Billy, an early steam engine, so that “puffing like Billy-o”... None of these is particularly likely, and the more prosaic truth may be that “Billy” is simply the pet form of the name William, used here as a substitute for the devil.
On with the radio. The Tories are re-shuffling themselves.
Tory (Irish “toraighe,” “pursuer”) The name applied in the 17th century to Irish Roman Catholics outlaws and bandits who harassed the English in Ireland. In the reign of Charles II (1660-1685) the name came to be an abusive term for supporters of the crown …
Cereal.
Cereal The word first appears in English as an adjective meaning “relating to the cultivation of grain”—an allusion to the goddess Ceres.
Ceres The Roman name for Mother Earth… She is called the corn goddess who had a daughter by Jupiter, called Proserpina.
The weather, we’re told, is going to be grey.
Grey
The Grey Man of Ben Macdui A giant shadowy presence that haunts the higher reaches of Ben Macdui, the highest mountain in the Cairngorms… In Gaelic, he is referred to as Ferlas Mor. One of the most famous reports of the Grey Man was given several years after the event (and it is thought reluctantly) by Professor Norman Collie, by then a veteran mountaineer and, what is more, a distinguished scientist with a reputation to lose. He had been nearing the summit on a misty grey day when he heard behind him footsteps heavier than any human would make. When he stopped, the steps stopped too. The steps came closer and closer, and then a shadow, far taller than a man, appeared in the mist. Other reports speak of pursuing footsteps for every two or three of the hearer’s steps… All agree the experience was utterly terrifying. Alistair Borthwick recounts [asking locals] in Always a Little Further… had they seen Ferlas Mor? “They looked at me for a few seconds, and then one said ‘We do not talk about that.’”
The child’s mother appears, holding a jiffy bag.
“It’s very steamy in here,” she observes.
“Climate change,” I venture.
“Your bicycle helmet is in the pantry,” she says. “Have you seen the Sellotape?”
Sellotape A name used for any “sticky tape” but one that properly belongs to the British company who first marketed it in 1937. The name is based on “Cellophane,” but with the C changed to an S for purposes of trademark recognition. A famous US rival is Scotch Tape. See Durex.
Durex The proprietary name of a well-known make of condom. The name, presumably based on “durable” was registered in 1932 and was coined by A. R. Reid, chairman of the London rubber company, its manufacturers. The name is a potential pitfall to Australian visitors to Britain since in their home country “Durex” is the equivalent of “Sellotape.”
I need now to take my tea, evade the gathering numbers in the kitchens, wash, dress and enquire of my secretaries what is required of me. Also, my head is starting to swell slightly and it’s leaning a little to one side as if in thrall to some arcane malaise. This must be what it’s like being Stephen Fry.
“Are you in this evening?”
“No.” I reply. “I’m playing Bridge.”
Rubber In whist, bridge, or some other games, a set of three games, the best of two of three, or the third game of the set. By extension, in cricket, the term is applied to a test series where the number of matches is odd or even. Its origin is uncertain but may be transference from bowls, in which the collision of two woods is a rubber, because they rub against each other.
The clock on the landing indicates seven thirty. I had planned to do a day of this. So, roughly 16 and a half hours to go. I’m flagging…
I look up “flagging.” There’s plenty under “flag” but no precise explanation as to the phrase “flagging.” Presumably, it comes from raising the white flag. I look up “white flag”—but find no confirmation there. I feel a sudden liberation. I’m just going, quietly, to stop. The 19th edition of Brewer’s Dictionary of Phrase and Fable is out now; it’s very approachable.
