Something Rhymes with Purple - Kismet

Episode Date: June 13, 2023

This week, Susie & Gyles delve into the enigmatic realm of ‘kismet’, a word that dances on the fine line between fate and chance. So purple people, whether you believe in destiny or rather just enjoy a good linguistic twist, let’s unravel the threads of fate together. We love hearing from you, find us @SomethingRhymes on Twitter and Facebook, @SomethingRhymesWith on Instagram or you can email us on our NEW email address here: [e-mail] Want even more purple, people? Join the Purple Plus Club by clicking the banner in Apple podcasts or head to purpleplusclub.com to listen on other platforms' Don’t forget that you can join us in person at our upcoming tour, tap the link to find tickets: www.somethingrhymeswithpurple.com  Enjoy Susie’s Trio for the week:  Gastrolater: A lover of food. A glutton. Estivate - To spend the summer. Eye chatter - A flirtatious glance. Gyles' poem this week was ‘Two Dead Boys’ by Anon: One fine day in the middle of the night, Two dead boys got up to fight, Back to back they faced each other, Drew their swords and shot each other. One was blind and the other couldn't see, So they chose a dummy for referee, A blind went to see the fair play, A dumb man went to shout "hooray". A paralysed donkey passing by, Kicked the blind man in the eye, Knocked him trough a nine inch wall, Into a dry ditch and drowned them all. A deaf police man heard the noise, And came to arrest the two dead boys, If you do’t believe my story, it's true, Ask the blind man he saw it too! A Sony Music Entertainment production.   Find more great podcasts from Sony Music Entertainment at sonymusic.com/podcasts     To bring your brand to life in this podcast, email [e-mail]  Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices

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Visit amex.ca slash yamex. Benefits vary by card, other conditions apply. Amex. Benefits vary by card. Other conditions apply. Hello and welcome to Something Rhymes with Purple. Now, I'm sitting opposite, Zoom-wise, my co-presenter, Giles Brandreth. And I like to think, Giles, that fate brought us together, which gives a little bit of a clue as to what we're going to talk about today. It'd be nice to think that that was the case, that fate brought us together on Countdown somehow, and we've known each other ever since. Well, it's a nice way of putting it, but the truth is the producers of Countdown brought us together. Fate had anything to do with it.

I know. I'm trying to lead gently into our subject for today with no nonsense at the beginning, but that's fine. You're right. It was the ITV producers. Well, I want some nonsense at the beginning because we're going to talk about fate, destiny. Yes. Kismet. We're going to talk about Kismet. Yes. Whenever the word Kismet comes up, I think, because of my generation, of a famous show. Kismet Cake.

No, no. What's Kismet? What's Kismet Kate? Kiss Me Kate. No, Cake. Oh, Kiss Me Kate. Oh, you are in a skittish mood. Oh, sorry. Kiss Me Kate is indeed a wonderful musical by the great Cole Porter. Yeah. But there was an earlier musical called Kismet based on a novel called Kismet written around the year 1911 by a man.

The novel was written by a man called Edward Knobloch. Marvelous name that, Knobloch. Yes. I think he was European in origin. Knobloch. Does that have a meaning, the word Knobloch. Marvelous name that, Knobloch. Yes. I think he was European in origin. Knobloch. Does that have a meaning, the word Knobloch? Well, I can only tell you that in German Knoblauch, which is a bit like Lobloch, Knobloch, but with an A in it. So it's K-N-O-B-L-A-U-C-H, means garlic. Well, maybe his family once upon a time were people who sold garlic. Anyway, Edward Knobloch,

K-N-O-B-L-O-C-K, was a very well-known writer. I mean, he created Gizmod, the show, well, the book, and then it became the show that was, I think, for a while, the longest running musical in the West End. It was revived in the 1950s. I don't know if it's been done much since. But he was famous for Gizmod. But he was also famous because he was a screenwriter and a playwright. And he was a friend of the actor John Gielgud, later Sir John Gielgud.

And there's this famous story told about Sir John Gielgud, who was an actor noted for his gaffes. He is the person who, when on his 90th birthday, he came to have lunch with me and my wife at the House of Commons. I'd written a biography of him, I invited him and he was regarded by many as the great classical actor of the 20th century. I said, oh, Sir John, we are so honoured that you on your 90th birthday should choose to come and have luncheon with us. He replied, oh, my dears, I'm delighted. You see, all my real friends are dead. So he was noted for saying things that didn't quite come out as he meant them to. And in the 1930s, he was having lunch or dinner one day at the Ivy Restaurant in Covent Garden with his friend, Edward Knobloch, the person who created Gizmod. And into the restaurant came a third party who passed their table and had a few words

with John Gielgud and they went to sit down at his table at which point Edward Knobloch said to John Gielgud oh who was that and John Gielgud replied oh very dull man so boring really a dull dull duller man you can't imagine he is so so boring he's almost as boring as Eddie Knobloch. Oh, not you, Eddie. The other Eddie Knobloch. Oh, no. It's a nice story. Are you sure none of these were actually quite deliberate and clever? I don't know. There was something about his gaffes that you're quite right,

that suggests sometimes he was being deliberately a little bit naughty. So, Kismet. Back to Kismet. Tell me about, maybe could you tell me about the origin of the word? I've told you about the novel that was written by Edward Knobloch around 1910, 11. Yes. Tell me what the word kismet means and where it comes from. Yes. Well, kismet is your fate or your destiny, really, isn't it? It's a kind of power that determines the course of the future. But it's

used quite often when somebody, this is how I have heard it anyway, in more recent times, if something happens which gives somebody their comeuppance, somebody might mutter, oh, kismet. In other words, they had what was coming to them. Have you heard it used that way? Not really. Or it's used positively as well, but I've heard it used that way as a sort of single word retort. Anyway, it's rather beautiful because it's one of the few words that came directly from Turkish into English. And it was borrowed in the early 1800s. And it's always been a sort of synonym of fate. And the original Arabic word was kizma with a q and it doesn't require the u q-i-s-m-a meaning

a portion or a lot so we'll find lot in that sense of fate what is allotted to you in quite a lot of words that are to do with your destiny and to do with your fate but the Turkish language actually gave us a surprising number of words but they quite often came from other languages that had direct contact with the Ottoman Empire, so French and Italian. So we don't really think of them as being Turkish, but cafe, tulip, words like that. Tulip, tulip, as in the flower?

Yes. Ultimately goes back to the Arabic for a turban, Turkish rather, sorry, for a turban, because that's the shape, which is quite nice, isn't it? It's very nice. And how long have people been using the word kismet in this sense of it's faced its destiny? Early 1800s. So quite a long time. Should we have just a little bit of a wander through the words that are to do with our fate and destiny? Now, we covered fate, actually. Can we start with fate? Well, we covered that. Do you remember in a very recent episode, we were talking about, God, what were we talking about? What were we talking about yesterday? Exactly. You can't remember. I can't remember.

What were we talking about yesterday? We talked about the three fates, and I told you their names, Clotho, Atropos, and Lachesis. Do you remember? You did. I do remember that. Okay, good. Well, that was just yesterday, Giles. Anyway, those were the three fates who essentially spun the thread of life. I love the way you think I'm going to remember what happened yesterday. Yes. I can't remember anything that happened recently, but take me back to my childhood and I can remember in complete detail everything.

I know. Well, don't take this the wrong way, but that is absolutely one of the key things about memory loss and dementia, isn't it? That people have such a clear, clear memory of the past, but not so much of recent events. You know, that's just the way that the brain goes, I think. Well, I think it's all to do with retrieval, to be honest. Yeah, yeah, yeah. I think it's all in there because usually if I give it enough time, I can remember things. It takes longer to retrieve because there is so much in there.

I think that's so true. We have a surfeit of information and we have to kind of almost sift through it. I quite like that as a challenge. If I can't remember someone's name, for example, I'm one of those people that will not want to be told it because I will go through it alphabetically. And then there's something that just pings right in your head when you reach that letter and then you

delve around in that particular draw. Can I tell you about fortune? The word for the things that once determined your, well, not the things, the power that once determined events and the course of one's life was actually weird. So weird only came to mean strange or supernatural in the early 19th century. So, if you think back to Shakespeare and the Weird Sisters, they weren't weird in the sense that we know it today. Weird was just very much about this kind of magical, intangible power. But it was thanks to them, in fact, that, you know, that we took on this sense of being slightly uncanny. I mean, thanks to the three weird sisters

in Shakespeare's play Macbeth. Yes, that we got the idea of something uncanny or supernatural. Interesting. Yeah. So until the 19th century, as I say, it was weird. And then came along destiny.

And that is from French via, well, from Latin, Latin really via French. And destinare in Latin means to make firm or to establish. So your destiny is something that establishes the course of your life. And it's quite interesting. I mean, if you take a snapshot of these words, you will see just how broad the sweep is of English when it comes to taking from other languages, because fate comes from Italian, fate. Destiny, as we've just heard, came from French. And luck, we think, came from German, and they still have Glück in German, meaning happiness. And luck and happiness

have been very much entwined throughout history. Very good. So Glück means happiness, and is that what gives us luck? Glückuk, yeah. So if you were happy, let's go back to happy. If you were happy many years ago, you were actually lucky. Things fell to you by hap, and hap meant chance, which is why when we say perhaps, that means by chance, which is why when we say perhaps, that means by chance, essentially. To happen was something that befell you by chance. So that was the primary meaning of hap. And so to be happy is to be blessed by luck or fortune, if you like. It's why we also have hapless. If you're hapless, you are unfortunate. And then later, you know, it became to mean a little bit sort of incompetent, I suppose. But it really did mean to have no luck or chance on your side.

What about the word happenstance? What does that mean? Oh, yes. Happenstance is just almost as chance would have it, as chance was standing, stance. So, yeah, that's a nice one as well. So, it was only much later, well, I say much later, but in the course of English, probably after the 15th century, that you could be happy. Until then, you were glad. And as I say, the hap was much more about chance. And luck and happiness, et cetera, as I say, very much kind of,

part and parcel of the same idea. But luck, related to that German glück, it's of Germanic origin. Some linguists actually think it is linked to luck, perhaps with the idea that luck is locked in by destiny and fate, which is quite a nice idea, although a slightly scary one, as though your whole life is predetermined. But yeah, so that's that one. Place for me again, you've just mentioned when it changed to happiness. When does the word happiness literally come into the language? So, happy and happiness, we're talking probably 15th century, I think. I can double

check that for you. Let me see what it says. Yeah, about the 15th century, maybe 14th century. And essentially, it came to mean the feelings of pleasure rather than luck by about the 16th century. So, it took 100 years or so for that to change. Because it's only really in the 18th century that the idea that we should all be happy became commonplace. And we have to blame the Americans or give credit to the Americans because of the declaration that says, you know, we're offering you life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness as a right. Interestingly, it's the pursuit of happiness, not necessarily the achievement of it. Because I think until then, people accepted that life was harsh and that you wouldn't

necessarily expect happiness in this world. That was for the next world. Yes, and not only that, but melancholy was very much seen as a kind of necessary adjunct to creativity, wasn't it? So actually, if you look back to the Romantic poets, it was almost a prerequisite to be melancholy because only that could actually spur on real art. So yes, you're right. But nowadays we are dedicated to pleasure and happiness, aren't we? At least we try to be. I know. I'm not sure it's rational, actually. If you look at the world overall,

I mean, think of how many unfortunate people are living in difficult circumstances. I mean, certainly, it's a wonderful aspiration. It is. What is fortune? We go back again to Latin for this and the Romans and the Roman goddess Fortuna. And she, or Fortuna probably, she personified luck or chance. And she gave us both fortune and fortuitous too. And fortune favours the brave. That idea can be traced back to classical times as well. So Virgil in his Aeneid includes the line,

Ordentes fortuna iuvat, which also means fortune favours the brave. In other words, well, going back to our aspiration towards happiness, you have to be bold in order to achieve it is the idea there. You certainly do. Absolutely. And certainly you have to be brave and hardworking. Oh dear. Fortune.

When does fortune in terms of money become a word? Because in this early use of it, where we're using it now, fortune means, well, because you can have an unfortunate fortune, can't you? You can be fortunate, but you can also be unfortunate. But fortune meaning lots of money. He's got a fortune.

When does that come in? Yes, that's very, very interesting. So I'm looking in the OED because I can't tell you that off the top of my head. So good luck, success and prosperity is there by the 14th century. One's conditional standing in life. Shakespeare uses it that way, and as you like it, my pride fell with my fortunes. And then by 1596, and once again, it's Edmund Spencer and the Fairy Queen who gives us position as determined by wealth.

And a small fortune, we obviously use slightly hyperbolically, don't we, to mean actually an extravagantly large amount, as in he just won a small fortune on the lottery? It's very interesting. Edmund Spencer and the Fairy Queen come up so often. He does, doesn't he? And yet I don't think I have ever read it. Do people read Spencer any longer? I mean, obviously he was, was he influential or is it simply because it's an early publication and therefore people of the OED, the dictionary, have combed through every word in it? Yeah, I think it's, you know, there are many texts used by the OED to corroborate certain words.

And obviously Shakespeare's the kind of bedrock of the OED. But yes, it is a case that, you know, this was a very popular, widely printed work that was incredibly influential as they have gone there. So it does not mean that this is the first record necessarily, just that this will give us an idea of the timeline. But of course, sometimes it will have been their invention. But I think not, given that they were, you know, picking up an existing word, I think it's highly likely it was being used in that sense already. And we've talked about chance as well. And that's quite interesting because that again, a bit like HAP, is all about an external influence that comes to you over which you have no control. So the ultimate source of that is the Roman or Latin word cadere, to fall. And it spawned lots

of words, including accident. So the double C-I-D goes back to that cadre to fall. And chance could mean an accident as well as the way things happen. So yeah, it's all about something befalling you. So it's tautological to talk about an accident of chance. People do, don't they? Do they? Okay. Yeah. They say, oh, it was an accident of chance. Indeed, a chance accident. But in fact, it's the same thing. Chance accident. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. It is a little bit of tautology. You're absolutely right. And just while we're here, and I know it's not directly relevant to Kismet, but do you know

the story behind, or one of the stories behind chancing your arm? No, this is what I love. It doesn't need to be related to Kismet. I love going down these highways and byways. Chancing your arm is very relevant to me, as you know, because I fell over and broke my arm. Well, yes. How is it these days? Well, I'm still doing, I can illustrate that listeners cannot see this, but I'm now showing Susie how I'm able to lift my arms more effectively. Excellent. That's good. I'm mirroring you. Well, chancing your arm. So lots of different theories, but there's one that absolutely all etymologists, I think, love. So, you know, it could have come

from tailors who rushed the job of sewing a sleeve, for example, and then, you know, it could have come from tailors who rushed the job of sewing a sleeve, for example, and then, you know, they chanced it because it could all come loose. Or it could be the stripes on a military uniform designating rank. So if you do something foolhardy, you're actually risking your entire career. But this is the lovely story. So it really is linked with a feud between two Irish families in the 15th century. One is the Ormond and the other is the Kildare. And according to the story, the Earl of Ormond had taken refuge in Dublin. Is it St. Patrick's Cathedral in Dublin?

So he was there. The Earl of Kildare actually thought that enough's enough. You know, we've feuded long enough. Let's put an end to the fight. So in order to show his kind of gesture of peace, he cut a hole, it is said, in the cathedral door and put his arm through it. And the Earl of Ormond thought, okay, let's reconcile,

put his own arm through, shook his hand rather than cutting it off. Isn't that lovely? Oh, it is truly a lovely story. He did risk his arm because it could have been absolutely, you know, locked off with a sword instead of which they made peace. And that is the true origin of chancing your arm. We don't have definitive evidence, so we don't know yet, but I'd love to think that at least that's how it was popularised.

Oh, I've heard of people being jinxed. Oh yeah, this was a really good one. That means you've got sort of bad luck permanently upon you. What's the origin of that? You have to look back to early witchcraft for this because the jinx, I'm not sure if it would have been pronounced jinx or yinx. So J-Y-N-X was a bird called the wryneck

and this was apparently used in various ways in early witchcraft, which is quite extraordinary, really. So from the bird, and as we will hear quite soon, birds have informed quite a lot when it comes to fate, etc. I'm trying to remember how... It's now extinct. I think it's the Yinx Torquia, which is from the Latin Torquia, to twist. And I just don't quite understand it. As I said, it was linked to witchcraft and divination and magic, but I'm not quite sure. I can't remember how they used it. But it's called the Rhynek because when it's alarmed, it twists its neck right round and it makes this hissing noise, which means that it

really was quite, you know, quite scary to behold. Quite what the witches did with it, I'm not completely sure. Did you ever, when you were a child, think you might be rather a good witch? I love the idea of white witches, good witches. Did I think I would be? No, I don't think I ever imagined myself as one. I'm wondering whether in retirement, you and I, Susie, could become an elderly witch and wizard, and we could set up shop somewhere and sell spells, make our money that way. People could come and visit us. Well, if you go back to Anglo-Saxon times, witches were, you could have been a witch because they were both sexes. And the masculine form was wicca, W-I-C-C-A, which unfortunately gave us wicked,

because witches have traditionally, as we know, had a very, very tough time through history. And of course, that's been revived by modern pagans. That's the name of their religion, wicca. And a female witch was a wicca with an E at the end. But yes, male witches would now be called wizard, but nicely, wizard also gave us wise, the word wise. Lovely. So, interesting. So, witches gave us wicked and wizard gave us wise the word wise lovely so interesting so witches gave us wicked and wizard gave us wise yes but witches could be both but i don't think that's as misogynistic as it sounds good excellent well i mean we would be we would be benevolent as witch and wizard you and i oh we could be white witches we would be but i want to have a i don't want a white hat necessarily

i want a pointed black hat with you know signs of the zodiac on it, moons and that sort of thing. I want to look like a proper thing. Okay. Yeah, if you don't mind. Anyway, auspicious. Now that's a good word. Yes, this is where birds come back, right back into play because you will know, won't you, about the auspex. So the auspex in Roman times was an observer of the birds. Incredibly important role in Roman times. So before any important event, before any election, before any investiture of an emperor, etc., the birds would be looked at to predict future events and to see whether a time was the right one, essentially, for something to happen. So it was to take omens from the birds and the patterns, the swirling patterns in the sky, the types of birds that they were, essentially. It goes back to

avis, avis in Latin, meaning a bird, and specere, meaning to look. Oh, so it's very simple. The aus gives comes from avis, the bird, and the specious part is from specere, to look out. Yes, and auspex was also known as an an auger. Again, that's from avis bird, a bit more hidden there, together with garrere, meaning to talk, which gave us garrulous as well. So something aug as well, it's a sign of a good outcome. It's auspicious. So you can see just how important these people were

in looking to the skies, et cetera, and seeing whether or not an event should take place. They also looked, didn't they, into the entrails of animals, I seem to remember. That's continued, or that did continue for quite a long time. So in Scott's dictionary, for example, you'll find some quite extraordinary words like tag helm. And the tag helm is studying the entrails of a dead sheep under a waterfall. I mean, you can't get more specific than that, can you?

No, that is interesting. How would you enter? We would have to go to a class, wouldn't we, to learn about this? I don't want to look at entrails of dead animals, but we could do tea leaves. Oh, I love all that. I love all that. I'm a great believer in the tea leaves. I'm even a believer in cutting the end of a banana and asking it a question.

And if the letter... What? You know about that. I don't know about this. The opposite end of the banana, not the end you peel, but the other end of the banana. Yeah. The little sort of stubbly bit, the other end. You ask it a question requiring the answer yes or no.

And if you cut off the tip and there's a clear why, the answer is yes. If it's a bit blurry, the answer is no. Or you must know that. Bring a banana to the next podcast and we will take a picture. We will. And we will post it. And you won't believe how brilliant it is.

But that's the snout end of the banana, but the sort of dud end, the bit that you don't peel back, that's where truly you cut off the end and there's a little Y clearly to be seen. And that means yes. Is there a name for divination by banana? Well, I don't know. Banana magic.

Banana fluke. Banana crackers. Banana crackers. Fluke. Fluke. That's chance. It's an alternative word for chance, isn't it? So fluke originated as a term in games such as billiards where it meant a lucky stroke. And I think the emphasis there was on luck rather than skill, but we can't trace it back much further than that, unfortunately.

I mean, do you believe in providence? So providence is an interesting one, really, because if you're religious, you do believe in providence with a capital P, don't you? Because that is essentially God looking out for you. That is providing protective care. I don't know if it may be even a guardian angel. I was a great believer in guardian angels when I was little, and I like to think that they still exist. How about you? Oh, I love the idea of a guardian angel, a personal guardian angel. Yes, I love that. I mean, with the word providence, you said protect you and provide for you. Is that what the origin of providence is? Yes, it is all about providing for you, really. But provide actually first meant to foresee, in other words, to kind of look out in that sense. So it's pro meaning

before and then videre, which gave us video and vision and all sorts of meaning to see. So that's where I come from. There, of course, there's the famous Shakespeare line, there's a providence that shapes our ends. Oh, that's lovely. Isn't there? I forget how that, oh, you must, I'm trying to remember the quotation now. There's a providence. I failed you. I don't know how to find a Y and a banana and now I don't know providence in Shakespeare.

Well, oh no, you will. You will, you know. It's well known. Just trying to remember the exact line. There's a providence that shapes our ends. It's Hamlet. It always is. It is always Hamlet. Of course, there's a divinity. That's what it is. There's a divinity that shapes our ends. Ruff you them how we will. That is Hamlet ratio. Acknowledging, so it's not providence, it is divinity. There you go. What about, you say that you're quite superstitious. Do you have mascots? Do you take mascots if you are going to something important, where the outcome is important? Oh, a lucky mascot. No, I don't know that I do. I suppose, did I have as a child, did I have a little St. Stephen or a little, no, I don't, no, I don't think I do.

No. Were you one of those, did you have little lucky mascots? Well, I'm always in awe on HF10 Catspots Countdown because one of the key elements of the show before we start the game is the comedians will bring out their lucky mascots. And there were none better than those brought up by Sean Locke. I mean, it was just ingenious, the ones that he came up with. But yeah, I used to, for exams, I think I had a little

troll with, I can't remember what colour hair. But a mascot is quite interesting because it goes back to the French mascot with a double T-E. And that meant a witch in the dialect of Southern France. Masco was a witch. But at first in English, it meant a personal thing supposed to bring good luck, but it didn't have to be carried around with you as such. But the reason it became so popular in English, or the reason it actually entered English in the first place probably, was a French operetta called La Mascotte by Edmond Audrin. And that had its premiere in December 1880. And the very next year, it made its first appearance in English.

So it was popular culture that propelled it into our language. Look, this is bookending this part of our podcast so beautifully because we began with Kismet, a famous musical from 1911. And we end up with another one, Mascotte, a French musical comedy, which I think takes us neatly into our break. I'm going in search of a banana. Bumble knows it's hard to start conversations. Hey. No, too basic. Hi there. Still no.

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Yes, we have no bananas. We have no bananas today. I love that song. I sing that every time I mention the word bananas to my kids. Yes, it drives them up the wall. And the other one is, now is it Terry Pratchett? I think, which is Nanny Ogg could never quite spell banana. Nanny Ogg knew how to start spelling banana, but didn't know how you stopped, which I just love because it's banana, na, na, na, na, na, na, na. Anyway. Yes, I like

that. It could go on forever. That is so funny. Anyway, sorry. Oh, that's very, that's, no, I love it. And I love the song. Yes, We Have No Bananas. It's been around for an awful long while, you know. It was written by Frank Silver and Irving Cohn, first published in March 1923. So we are celebrating the centenary of Yes, We Have No Bananas. Wow. Without realising it.

I love it. Oh, that's fantastic. I love it. And I have absolutely no idea why they're saying, Yes, We Have No Bananas. We have no bananas today, but it's just, that's fantastic. I love it. And I have absolutely no idea why they're saying, yes, we have no bananas. We have no bananas today, but it's just perfect and very memorable. We have some correspondence to get to. Okay, we do.

And you know, I have to say, when you mentioned earlier that you had a mascot that was a troll, it suddenly reminded me that I did go through a period of having a mascot that was a gonk. Do you remember the gonk? It predated the troll. Same thing. Your troll probably had green hair or blue hair or orange hair.

My little gonk was made of leather and I was very fond of it. Okay. But anyway, it's gone now. Oh. Maybe to our next live show, which is in June, on the 17th of June at the Salisbury Playhouse, if we remember, maybe each of us should take along a mascot. It's at 2.15 in the afternoon. We're talking about water that day, apparently.

And so people are interested in coming along. I think there are a few tickets left, only a few. You go to somethingrhymeswithpurple, the whole thing is one word, somethingrhymeswithpurple.com, and that's where you can find the route that will give you tickets. Or I imagine you can just get hold of the Salisbury Playhouse.

So who has been in touch with us? Well, they have been in touch via our new email address, purplepeopleatsomethingrhymes.com. Purplepeopleatsomethingrhymes.com. The first one comes from Tamara. Hi, Susan Giles. My question is, where did the origins of Boxing Day come from? You're a little early here, Tamara. Is it in reference to boxing up goods or does it refer to an actual boxing match? I have laugh out loud visual imagery in my head when I think of a boxing match the day after Christmas, which would be a natural continuance of some famously inebriated family Christmas gatherings that I've managed to avoid most of my adult life.

Now, I think I know the origin of this. Can I give it to you? I think it's to do with boxes made of clay that were kept in churches, either for the poor or possibly for servants, I don't know. And people put arms for the poor into these boxes made of clay. And as Christmas time, the boxes were broken open. And after Christmas Day, on the day after Christmas Day, the arms were distributed to the poor. That's my recollection. Is there something like that? Absolutely brilliant, yes. And the reason it's on the 26th of December is that they were put out in honour of St Stephen,

the first Christian martyr, and that was his feast day. Ah, good King Wenceslas last looked out on the feast of Stephen. Exactly. And centuries later, the Victorians then gave Christmas boxes of money and small gifts to their staff, And then it progressed from there. Really, people would give boxes to tradespeople as thanks for good service during the year, just as we might give our wonderful post deliverers a little something at Christmas time. So, yeah, we kind of continue it in different ways, albeit not in boxes.

So nothing to do with a boxing match tomorrow. I think it's quite fun celebrating Christmas at this time of year. Okay. Well, you never celebrate Christmas at any time of year, if I remember. You just have a very solitary meal with Michelle, and that's absolutely fine. It varies, but we did do a year where we had the microwave Christmas. I can't pretend it was a great success. We got a microwave meal from M&S and with the whole family we just couldn't nobody could be bothered to do the work and we stood each with our own microwave christmas dinner we stood by the microwave we took it in turns to put the meal in there for two minutes and there were us and the three children so five of us it took 10 minutes to prepare

and by the time the last person had prepared their meal the first person had finished theirs so we'd finished having lunch by 1 10 we then had to wait an hour and 15 minutes before we could watch the queen on television oh dear let's move on let's move on what's the next message so the next one is okay um sensitive listeners switch off now hi suzy and giles i'm a new listener i'm loving a podcast here's my question for you. With the recent coronation in mind, is there any entomological link between king and fucking? Thanks a lot. That's from David in Grenoble, France. It's a rather strange question.

Good grief. David, we should say, is writing to us from Grenoble in France. This is a very curious inquiry. from Grenoble in France. This is a very curious inquiry. With Saturday in mind, is there any etymological link between king and fucking? Well, I can, I think what he,

I mean, obviously he's looking at the words on the paper, but obviously, well, possibly he may have heard the backronym, you know, the famous, famous story about the word fuck is that it's an acronym for fornication under command of the king.

And the story is that when the population was much diminished during times of plague, etc., then actually, you know, the king would authorise all fertile couples to go forward and procreate, and they would hang little signs outside their door. F-U-C-K, fornicating under command of the king. It's absolute rubbish. Yes. And we've talked about all of this in our swearing episode. So, David, I'm hoping it will be a relief to know that there is absolutely no relationship there whatsoever. So would you like my trio? The first of my trio is a gastrolator. Gastrolator. G-A-S-T-R-O-L-A-T-E-R. Gastrolator. I don't think this is you, Giles, is one whose god is his belly. Oh.

Yes. And actually, you do have a belly god, somebody who just essentially will do anything to eat and to drink merrily. So, gastrolator. It sounds a little bit like a sort of the opposite, like you're having an elastic band operation or something. But anyway, that's what it means. It's from the 17th century. Estivate. Now, we've definitely had this before, but as we are coming up to it, I thought it would be a useful reminder. Well, I like it. I think it's fun. To estivate is to spend the summer. So, I could say to you, Giles, where are you estivating this year? And you could tell me where you were going to go.

And that's as in est, as in ete, the French word for summer? Well, I don't think so. That's interesting, actually. Is it? Maybe it is. Oh, I think it is, isn't it? Maybe you're right. It probably is. It's actually, if you take it all the way back, it's from the Latin estivare, A-E-S-T-I-V-A-R-E, to spend the summer. And it's all related to heat

and it's, of course, the opposite of hibernate. So that's that one. And then the third one is, I just quite like this one, eye chatter. Okay. Eye chatter was once upon a time a flirtatious glance. So you're speaking with your eyes. So you say there was a lot of eye chatter at this party, for example. Oh, I like that. Exactly. Oh, I love that. That's one of the most useful words. Right. Can we move on to your poem, please? Well, given that the whole of this podcast has been a lot of nonsense, I have no choice in my poem today.

I'm going to share with you one of my favourite poems that's by an author that we don't know it's by. It's anonymous. And yet I think you will know this poem. It's called Two Dead Boys. Do you know this poem? Does it ring a bell? No, I don't know this poem. It's called Two Dead Boys. Do you know this poem? Does it ring a bell? No, I don't know this one. Well, here's a go. It's called Two Dead Boys. It's by Anon, one of the most prolific and brilliant of all the playwrights. Forgive me, one of the most prolific and brilliant of all the poets. And it's a lot of nonsense. And it goes like this. One fine day in the middle of the night, two dead boys got up to fight. Back to back they faced each other, drew their swords and shot each other. One was blind and the other couldn't see, so they chose

a dummy for a referee. A blind man went to see fair play, a dumb man went to shout hooray. A paralysed donkey passing by kicked the blind man in the eye, knocked him through a nine-inch wall into a dry ditch and drowned them all. A deaf policeman heard the noise and came to arrest the two dead boys. If you don't believe this story's true, ask the blind man. He saw it too. Very good.

It is very clever. It's a clever old bit of nonsense. And I felt it was appropriate to end our podcast of nonsense which I've enjoyed hugely I think we should talk more nonsense than nonsense in fact I probably do all the time anyway I think we probably do thank you so much for listening I would say putting up with this but we love having your company we do also have the purple plus club if you're interested for ad-free listening and bonus episodes on words and language. Something Rhymes with Purple is a Sony Music Entertainment production. It was produced by Naya Dio.

It was additional production from Hannah Newton, Chris Skinner, Jen Mystery, The Invisible Gully. And today we have Richie, who is our fab engineer, who is throwing his arms up in the air in celebration, something Gully never does. Well done, Richie. Gully, by the way, he's gone out looking for a banana.