Something Rhymes with Purple - Stuff
Episode Date: December 15, 2020Get wrapped up in your cosiest cashmeres and grab a glass of velvety vino and if you haven’t cottoned on already, today we’re going to be discussing textiles and fabrics. Susie and Gyles will w...eave their way through our wardrobes discussing our silks to our satins. Through the world of fabric we’ll discover many things and lots of stuff as well as finding out what links taffetas and tabby cats, and why the best togas are always the most succinct. A Somethin’ Else production If you want to get in touch with Susie and Gyles to ask any questions, you can get in touch at purple@somethinelse.com. Susie’s Trio: Firefang - scorched Bilbo - sword of exceptional quality ‘-sby’ - suffix added to describe a person by their character trait. e.g. A rudesby is rude, an idlesby is idle, a sneaksby is sneaky. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices
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Hello, and welcome to another episode of Something Rhymes with Purple.
This is a time in the week when I get together with my friend Susie Dent,
and we talk about words and language, because we're two people who just, well, we love words.
We love language. We know that words are everything.
It's the way we have to communicate because at the moment,
we're not really being allowed to hug one another.
Even smiling at one another is a bit difficult if you're doing it via Zoom.
You're not sure if your picture's pixelating.
So it's got to all be done with words.
Do you know, Susie, what was the first word
you ever spoke? What was the first word that came out of your mouth?
I wish it was something incredibly impressive and word-based, you know, or dictionary-based at least.
But no, I think it was just the dada. I hate to disappoint you. How about you?
Dada is the most familiar word. People say dada, interestingly, before they say mama.
They do, don't they?
Maybe the da is an easier thing to say.
There's a delightful story that I was told by Joan Plowright.
Joan Plowright married to the great actor Sir Lawrence Olivier.
And they have a son called Richard Olivier. And when he was born, he was exactly the same age as the son
of Princess Margaret and Lord Snowden. And Laurence Olivier and Joan Plowright knew Princess
Margaret and Lord Snowden, principally because Lord Snowden was a theatrical photographer.
And Joan Plowright was quite excited and said to Princess Margaret, you know, our boys are the
same age. I'm very excited because Richard has just said
his very first word, his very first word.
And it was da, da, da, da, da.
And Princess Margaret replied, oh, yes.
Well, you know, David said his very first word too.
And Joan Plymouth said, oh, what was it?
And Princess Margaret replied, chandelier.
That's perfect.
Isn't that amusing? Yes. And maintained. I asked many years later, because I was lucky enough to know Tony Snowden, who was a great photographer and a very
charming, slightly dangerous man. I said to him, is there any truth in this story at all? And he
said, it's quite possible. David was in this sort of cot in Kensington Palace. And above the cot,
other people have mobiles,
but there were these, you know, wonderful chandeliers.
So it's quite possible that the nanny was saying,
oh, look up there, look at the chandelier.
So it's quite possible.
It's so funny.
It's not a word that many of us use these days
because obviously we don't have them.
And I remember watching an episode of The Apprentice
where one of their tasks was to go and find a particular chandelier.
But in fact, they read it as a chandelier. What's a chandelier? And they spent the entire programme
trying to work out what this was. So there you go, worlds apart. I've been enjoying watching
The Crown recently, actually, and rather alarmingly, I've completely fallen in love
with Prince Philip, played by Matt Smith. So I can totally believe that. I love that
story. Having written biographies of various members of the royal family, I would say approach
The Crown with a little bit of caution, bearing in mind that it is a drama. Of course it is, yeah.
I mean, sometimes on the facts, it invents scenes. I mean, you know, Peter Morgan, brilliant writer,
but he wasn't actually there. So he's having to, as it were, scrabble around and think what
might have happened.
And so it should be really for a drama, shouldn't it?
I am watching it with particular interest. And it's relevant to what I hope we can talk about today, which is, believe it or not, fabrics and textiles. I'm watching it with interest because
I love clothes. And I love particularly the, I think, the brilliant way they've recreated some of the costumes, the dresses. And I'm a bit
of a Diana freak when it comes to her style. And the reason I'm sitting glued to the screen is she
is going to pop up, I believe, in one of these episodes wearing one of my jumpers.
Seriously?
Seriously.
How amazing.
Because in the 19, people over the world, what's lovely about our podcast,
and we're in a state of high excitement this week because we've just hit our fourth millionth download.
Thank you so much, everyone, for that.
Thank you.
And we know it's people around the world listening.
So I want to explain to people who don't know really who we are.
Susie Dent is a distinguished lexicographer, but she also appears on TV a great deal in this country,
Susie Dent is a distinguished lexicographer, but she also appears on TV a great deal in this country, notably on a programme called Countdown, which goes out every day where she sits in dictionary corner and tells us all about words and language.
And there's a comedy version, too.
And I appear on television as well. And I began appearing on television in the 1970s and 80s wearing colourful knitwear.
And my jumpers were designed and created by a man called George Hosler.
knitwear. And my jumpers were designed and created by a man called George Hosler. And we created a label together, a knitwear label called Giles and George, which has recently been revived. Anyway,
our jumpers were sold in Kensington High Street, which is a fashionable street very near Kensington
Palace. And one day, Diana, Princess of Wales, wandered into the shop and bought a jumper,
which says on the front, I'm a luxury.
And on the back, it says, few can afford. And she wore this jumper around Kensington Palace.
And I think rather teased Prince Charles, because they were still married at the time,
with it. I'm a luxury, few can afford. Anyway, I think this jumper is going to feature in The Crown and we've
revived it. Fantastic. It's rather fun. And so if anyone's going to Selfridges, they can buy it there,
but they can buy it online as well. Giles and George is the name of the brand. So I love jumpers.
I love knitwear. Do you like colourful clothes? I'm going to look out for that. I've just come
back actually from three days of Countdown recordings and we had sitting next to me in
the corner Prue Leith, who again, for those overseas, she's a celebrated cook. She doesn't
like to call herself a chef because she's not head of a kitchen, she says. And she is wonderfully
into colour. And she actually was telling us all, you know, it's ridiculous to say that any woman,
as she grows older, should avoid colour. You know, that's ridiculous to say that any woman as she grows older should
avoid colour, you know, that flamboyance is actually unbecoming and mutton dressed as lamb,
etc. She said you should embrace it. And she always wears the most vivid, vibrant,
sumptuous colours. And you know me, Jaz, I mean, I tend to like greys and black. So I tend to go
for kind of classical colours. I don't really like purples and pinks on me. I like them on other people, but not really on me. But yes, I have textiles in my family because my father was a textile agent. My sister went into fashion. In fact, both my sisters went into fashion. So it very much runs through the blood.
What does a textile agent do?
do? A textile agent essentially buys cloth. They're such a middle person, I suppose. They buy cloth from the mills. In this case, my dad used to buy them from Italian mills and then sell them on to
manufacturers. But he had a great, or still does, has a great feel for cloth. So whenever I'm wearing
anything, he will feel it and tell me exactly where it's come from and also whether it's cheap.
Ah, brilliant. So it's been very close to my heart,
but I obviously went in a very different direction.
Well, we've discussed clothes and fashion before.
So if that's your bag, you can download that episode.
I think this is episode 89.
So lots of episodes to download.
That one was called Testiculate.
Don't know why we called it Testiculate.
I don't know.
Well, obviously, because we were talking bollocks.
That's pretty much what it means.
So if you want us talking about clothes and fashion, go to Testiculate. But today we're going to talk about materials, fabric, the stuff, literally the stuff behind the clothes.
Stuff means fabric, doesn't it?
Yes, it does. And stuffing too. I mean, so many words have textiles at their heart. So you just reminded me of the word farce, which actually was stuffing.
It was a metaphor of clothing because farces were kind of interludes in plays, etc.
They were little comedy inserts, if you like.
And so if you go for farce, something, meet farce in French, it's stuffed. But, you know, text, even text itself, when we send a text
message, we are unconsciously making a link with textile because we weave our words just as we
weave cloths. And they have a context with which they are woven together. So, you know, bombast,
if you were bombastic, you were full again again, of that idea of stuffing, because bombast was literally the padding with which men would kind of fill out their beautiful, sumptuous waistcoats.
So lying beneath so many of our English words is the idea of cloth.
I think I can give you loads more.
Perhaps we can come to those later.
I want us to come just if you can unravel stuff a bit further for me.
I mean, we now talk about stuff and nonsense,
and we talk about possessions as being my stuff. But the root of the word stuff is what,
and what did it first mean?
Well, it came to us from the French estoff, which was material, furniture, that kind of thing. But
there's so many relatives there. So the Italian stoffer was a piece of rich textile fabric.
So you're right.
But actually, the earliest meaning of stuff in English was reinforcement in a military sense.
So a body of soldiers, an additional force that came along to help you.
And then very, very soon.
Well, to be honest, it's very difficult when you're a lexicographer.
These may be concurrent.
We're just talking about the records that have been found to date.
In poetry, it meant the quilted material that was worn under chain mail, or it could in fact be serving in place of armour. So it was always quilted. And you're right, it was that idea of padding,
either through extra support and reinforcement or for the use of clothing, manufacture of clothing.
So when we say stuff and nonsense, the origin of that really is like padding. You're filling
the air with stuff and nonsense. You're giving padding. It's the same connotation as a
farce. Yes. It's interesting, isn't it? It's like thing. I think we've talked about thing before,
which once had such importance and was used for sort of grand assemblies in Viking get-togethers.
And yet a thing these days can be any old thing. But thing has become potent again, hasn't it?
Yes, the thing. It's the thing. I thing has become potent again, hasn't it? Yes, the thing.
It's the thing. I remember you saying that. Is that a thing? Yeah, that was a great observation.
And it's the same with stuff, actually, except I don't think we have the stuff of life, which obviously is the essence, which is quite important. But otherwise, I think it's taken a gradual
decline. Is there a difference between stuff and fabric? Yes, there is. Stuff is padding.
Stuff is what you stuff into things.
Whereas fabric is, is that to do with fabrication?
Things that are basically made?
It's to do with making, yes.
So if you trace fabric all the way back to its very beginnings,
we're just looking at here.
So the Latin fabrica was somebody who worked in metal, stone or wood.
And again, it passed through all sorts of romance languages before it came into
English. But fabric was a product of skilled workmanship, if you like. And it could even mean
a building or a sort of really important machine or an engine. And only later did it come to mean
a textile fabric. So something that was again worked on and brought together with great skill.
something that was again worked on and brought together with great skill.
Do you have a specific fabric that is your delight?
Is there something that you see or feel like silk or velvet that makes you feel, oh, yes, I feel good in this today?
It has to be cashmere, I'm afraid.
It has to be cashmere, which I don't have very much of.
It's got that sort of, you know, luxury feel to me.
Kashmir is a wool, isn't it? From a goat?
From a goat. Exactly. In Kashmir. Yes. And I'm hoping that it's kindly obtained. But it comes
from Kashmir in the Western Himalayans, but it is from the Kashmir goat, but also I think the
wild goat of Western China. Yes. And I always manage to shrink everything I have of cashmere.
So the other thing I like is the feeling of chenille,
which actually goes back to Latin for hairy dog.
It's linked to canis through very kind of strange convoluted root.
So canis, canicula, et cetera, gave us chenille.
How about you?
I think you're a silk person, aren't you?
Well, no, I'm not.
Okay.
Years ago, many years ago,
when I was at university, I firstly became aware of fabric when I encountered an actress called
Diana Quick. We were contemporaries at Oxford University in the 1960s. Again, our international
listeners may know her name. She's a wonderful actress. She played Julia in Brideshead Revisited,
didn't she? She was brilliant. That's exactly how she came to international fame. Yeah. And when I met her, I was 19 and she was 21. And we met for a drink in a pub in Oxford. And she was wearing
a leather miniskirt. And the fact that I'm talking about this 50 years later shows you the impact this outfit had on me
I'd never seen anything so exotic or dare I said erotic in my life but it was disconcerting
and it was wonderful on her but I've never really been keen on leather but there was a period I
think it was probably that period when leather was considered rather sexy to wear.
There was a TV series called The Avengers. Yeah. And I think that Diana Rigg and Anna Blackman,
they wore leather in that. So leather, what's the origin of leather? I think it's Germanic. So the
German for leather is Leder. So I imagine that it came, yeah. Leather trousers never been my thing,
I have to say.
I don't know why people want to wear leather trousers.
They just don't work on men or women.
I think they just don't work.
But silk, people, you think I'm a silk person because you see me.
I just imagine you as a cravat.
But then I thought, actually, maybe not.
Maybe not a cravat person.
I can see why you would say that.
My late friend, Nicholas Parsons, who died in February of this year, he loved to wear a cravat.
late friend, Nicholas Parsons, who died in February of this year. He loved to wear a cravat.
My hero, Noel Coward, famously would wear silk pyjamas and a silk dressing gown,
cigarette in a cigarette holder. But I find it all a bit shiny and you slip around. I can't bear silk sheets. It's not warm either. I mean, you know what I'm like, I'm always cold. I need
something warm, which is probably why I go for cashmere. Yeah, you need a wincietta gym jams
is what you need. Thermals, thermals at all times. Silk, where does the word silk come from then?
So silk is quite an interesting one, I have to say. And you know, the sort of thing I love about
what I do is that the most everyday words will surprise me. And I will think, why did I not
ever look up this? And so this was quite a recent discovery
for me. And it goes back to the ancient world when silk came overland to Europe from China and
Tibet. And the Greeks and the Romans called the people who lived in these far away, exotic,
unknown lands, seres, S-E-R-E-S. And again, I know it's quite difficult to see that that gave
us silk, but you have to kind of trace it a bit like, you know, these wonderful exotic imports
themselves. You have to trace their winding path. And then eventually from Ceres, we got silk. But
yeah, I honestly didn't know that until about a month ago.
Well, isn't that nice to think you're still learning things?
All the time.
go well is that nice to think you're still learning things all the time my favorite fabric probably is velvet i love velvet i love brushing it one way and then brushing it the other way and
seeing the change do you have velvet jackets yeah i do but the problem is they go off so quickly
you know you need a new velvet outfit all the time did i ever tell you about being in the
wings at the royal albert hall with frankatra? I would remember. No. Well, I was sent to interview Frank Sinatra on his last
tour when he came to the Royal Albert Hall to sing. And he was quite an old man by then.
And they explained to me, you're going to be talking to Mr. Sinatra after the show,
but you can stand in the wings to see him go on. But you mustn't come within 10 meters of Mr. Sinatra.
He concentrates before going on stage.
So you can stand there, but don't go within 10 meters of him.
Is that understood?
So I stood in the wings.
And Sinatra arrived in the wings, about to go on the stage.
The orchestra was already playing the come on music.
And there was Frank Sinatra looking exactly like Frank Sinatra.
It was incredible. He was shorter, I suppose, than I imagined, a bit stockier. But it was Frank Sinatra looking exactly like Frank Sinatra. It was incredible.
He was shorter, I suppose, than I imagined, a bit stockier, but it was Frank Sinatra. There was
something electric about him. There was charisma. And I thought, this is amazing. And then I
realized that he didn't have any trousers on. He was standing there in his shirt, wearing a bowtie,
but in his shirt with boxer shorts
and I think what the Americans
call suspenders,
what we would call,
no, no,
they'd keep his socks up.
Oh, okay.
Sort of things
to keep his socks up.
So he was wearing
shoes and socks.
That's not a particularly
sexy image.
Exactly.
Well, the music was playing
and he was moving
towards the edge of
the stage. I thought this man's going to go onto the stage at the Royal Albert Hall, thousands of
people there. And I'm the only person here in the wings. This poor man is going to go on the stage
in his underpants. And I thought, well, maybe he's older than, you know, he's older than I.
Has he gone a bit? Has he lost it? Is this going to be the most humiliating moment in Frank Sinatra's
life? And I thought, I cannot let this happen. And literally, as he was about to walk onto the stage, I'm afraid I decided I had to
stop him. So I began to walk towards Frank Sinatra, ready, if necessarily, to do a rugby dive to
prevent him going onto that stage. And as I was about to throw myself upon him, two minders lifted me out of the way, and Frank Sinatra's dresser stepped towards him with trousers.
He stepped into the trousers, he then put on the jacket,
and he turned towards me, and he said to me,
those guys out there have paid a lot of money to see me.
I wear a new suit for every show I ever perform.
Wow.
They deserve the best.
They paid for it.
They're going to get it.
And then he walked on.
Wow.
It was amazing.
I'm more impressed that anyone can actually put on a pair of trousers whilst wearing shoes.
Because having tried that myself, I have just, yes.
He had very small feet.
They were very shiny little patent leather shoes.
And obviously they just did this.
And it's true.
He wore a different suit for every performance,
a handmade dinner suit for every show.
And now I know that.
I've watched endless recordings of him
and he looks so sharp at every performance.
There's never a crease.
He has never sat down in those trousers.
That's amazing.
Is that amazing?
Around the world,
there must be thousands of Frank Sinatra suits yes yeah oh let's start an online shop selling
you don't need another online shop um what that's an amazing story yes now i think part of a dinner
suit is made of satin yes the stripe down the side What's the origin of satin? Do you know, we're not completely
sure about this one. I'm looking at the OED etymology now and it says sometimes taken to be
from Zeytun, the Arabic name of a city in China. But perhaps rather from another word, Zeytun,
meaning olive, being so-called on account of its shiny luster, like an olive. Oh, like a polished
olive. I can see that.
So the jury is out. I must just touch on mohair because my youngest for a long time thought mohair was the hair of a mo and asked me what a mo was, which I thought was lovely.
That goes back to Arabic and meaning hair of the goat, mukaiya. I'm probably pronouncing that
terribly. A lot of things are named after places. I mean, satin, there's the argument there.
Of course, cashmere, you mentioned famously denim.
Denim.
Yes.
It is from neem.
Yes.
Jeans from Genoa.
Yeah, exactly.
Where's corduroy come from?
Corduroy.
Corduroy.
Yes.
People think it is actually, you know, the cord of the king.
And it's such a lovely a lovely idea but
but actually that doesn't exist in french because in french the word for the cloth is
so we actually don't know duroy is of unknown origin i mean you know maybe we just decided
to come up with a bit of french ourselves which which we do sometimes. I'm going to give you a couple of other ones, which are quite nice. Seersucker, which is that kind of striped cloth, perhaps not so fashionable these days, but that is a corruption in Indian corruption, actually, of a Persian word meaning milk and sugar because of the kind of slightly smooth and then puckered surfaces of the stripes.
of the kind of slightly smooth and then puckered surfaces of the stripes.
So it's quite detailed, that one.
And one more, actually, that does go back to a place, and that's damask.
Damask is from Damascus.
Oh, very good.
Believe it or not, which you might not have expected.
And it's probably time for a break now,
but I want to tell you about how taffeta is somehow related to the tabby cat.
Oh, we ought to discover that.
Give me a minute, I'm going to do some ironing.
My dainty double-damaged napkins are needing a little pressing.
I can imagine that.
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Here we are again.
And before the break, Susie was about to tell me all about taffeta and how it's got something to do with a cat.
Well, sort of.
Tabby cat.
You'd never expect that to have a relationship with textiles.
But many centuries ago, there was an Arab prince called Atab.
And he had a palace in Baghdad.
And the area around it was called Al-Atabiya in his honour.
And it was a centre of textile manufacture and the cloth made there was Atabi.
And this really rich silk material became known in English as Tabi.
And it was a really fashionable cloth for gentlemen's waistcoats, particularly the striped ones really and it seems to have struck some people that these
gentlemen with their kind of striped tummies looked a little like cats which is why we talk
about tabby cats today it goes all the way back to that ancient cloth which was you know in the city
of this arab prince and taffeta is a persian word that we think has some sort of intimate connection with that, going back a long way, which means twisted, woven.
And that fabric definitely also originated in Atabiyya, which is now, I think, in Baghdad.
So really strange security stories that these have.
But tabby cats, yeah, all to do with that kind of rich, striped material of old.
Well, cloth as well has been woven into our language in all sorts of ways.
I mean, you mentioned texting earlier,
and I was thinking about, you know, I'm cottoning onto this,
cottoning onto that.
I mean, that must be to do with the spinning and the cotton industry, is it?
Yes.
Frustrating.
We haven't got any direct evidence of that.
But yes, you would have thought that perhaps it was to do with
spooling cotton upon a bobbin, etc.
Or even, you know, when you have a little stray bit of cotton, it just always clings to
the material that you're wearing. You always just find this little piece of cotton that somehow
sticks to your clothes. That may be, again, to do with if you cotton onto something, you kind of
stick to it because you sort of comprehend it. But as you say, so many others, I mean, ambition
and candidate,
we've talked about before. Candidate goes back to the white togas that Roman candidates seeking office would wear, and they would walk around in order to solicit votes. And so it's linked
to ambition because ambire was to walk around. Succinct, more closely linked to clothing. I
think we might have talked about this in our testiculating episode, but succinct is all to do with the belt with which Romans would tuck in their toga. So
they'd wear a synctus, which was a belt, and they would pull it up so that the toga wouldn't sweep
along the dirty ground. And so succinct first meant tucked up of a toga. And when it's tucked
up, of course, it becomes a little bit more concise.
Heckling is another one.
Did we ever talk about the origin of heckling?
No, I've been the victim of it in my time.
I want to hear the origin.
It was really strange.
It takes us back to the kind of legalisation of trade unions, I guess, in the early 19th century,
when, you know, growing numbers were joining the fight for better pay, better working
conditions, etc. And sort of unlikely byproduct of trade unionism is, in fact, heckling because
it's said to have originated with a particularly vociferous vocal, shall we say, union in Scotland.
And what happened there was a heckling shop. Now a heckling shop was a place in the textile industry where knots and dirt would be removed from flax or hemp fibres. So this is before the process became mechanised and a heckle or a hackle as it was also called was a steel comb used for smoothing out this knotted material. And one such heckling shop in the Scottish town of Dundee was incredibly
ill-ventilated, really unpleasant, you know, back-breaking work. And in fact, Robert Burns
was among those who carried out this hour upon hour of heckling in the establishment.
And apparently, by 1880, these people had had enough in the heckling shop and they established
a union to fight for better conditions.
Using their strength in numbers,
it said they did a fair amount of shouting and they got a reputation for activism.
And it's through that link with the heckling shop
where they were combing out textiles and fabric
and their kind of, you know, shouting for better working conditions
that heckling transferred over into this idea of shouting
and clamouring for their
voices to be heard. And it's strange. Well, look, this is a deep, deep subject. And if we haven't
touched on aspects of it you'd like us to do, you simply get in touch with Purple at somethingelse.com.
That's something without the G, somethingelse.com. Send us your questions and queries and Susie will
do her best to answer
and I will try and chip in if I've got something to add. Oh no, you have to chip in with things
like your Frank Sinatra stories. Who can ever compete with that? I'm going to chip in immediately
with a question that was sent to me, but I think it was meant for us. It was sent to me on Twitter.
We're both on Twitter. I'm at GilesB1. What are you? What's your Twitter address?
I'm at GilesB1.
What are you?
What's your Twitter address?
At Susie underscore Dent.
Very good.
And somebody tweeted me to say this week that they last weekend went commando and they wondered what the origin of that was.
Going commando, it's a very bizarre thing.
Do you ever do that?
You've heard the expression.
I have once or twice gone commando.
If I'm wearing trousers where you just get a VPL, a visible panty line, once or twice gone commando if i'm wearing trousers where you just get a vpl a visible panty line once or twice so going commando means for those who don't know the expression means not wearing underwear it means not wearing underwear i had this very discussion with rachel riley who i
work with on countdown this week now it was popularized by friends definitely so friends
the incredibly you know brilliant sitcom that ran for years but its use actually predates that and although
there's no reference to actually commando soldiers going without underwear i think the idea is that
you're tough and you can kind of tough it out and you know you're full of kind of i don't know
vigor and bravado and somehow that was then transferred to not wearing any underwear so
make of that what you will but But it definitely predates Friends,
but I think that's what popularised it.
Very good.
Well, let's not go any further there.
Let's fold up our textiles,
put them back in the bottom drawer
and turn to...
We've had so many letters and emails.
I call them letters.
They're not letters at all.
They're either texts or they're emails.
No coffee.
We've had a couple of late contenders for our call for a term
to describe the feeling of disappointment
when you're expecting another sip of your coffee
or bite of your biscuit to realise there's no more left.
Kodja nominated the word nostalgia.
Oh, I quite like that.
Oh, I like that.
Nostalgia.
Well, that's really sort of recollection for...
I think nostalgia is more remembering wonderful meals.
Simon Graham offered a double dealer, a double header rather,
when the cup is unexpectedly empty, café au nez.
Get it?
Café au nez.
Very good.
And when the cup is unexpectedly full, café au yay.
Yay.
That's excellent.
I like that one.
You know what?
They call it Spanish coffee in France.
You know what they call Spanish coffee in France?
No.
Café au lait.
Uh-oh.
Boom, boom.
I have a lovely email from Alan Garbert,
who caught up with our podcast during lockdown.
He says he's been perambulating
around his village with his wonderful Westie. So that's how he listens to us. Thanks, Alan.
He says that he has become very busy recently as the result of the birth of two lockdown
grandchildren. Congratulations. He said, indeed, in my late mother's terminology,
I had been running around like a blue arsed fly. Where does this come from? Is it just a Yorkshire
phrase or even just a West Riding phrase?
Well, the answer is no,
it's not regionally specific.
It's been around for a little while.
And the idea is anyone
who's had a blue bottle
in their room over the summer
just knows how really frantic,
constant movement,
you know, they're just very annoying,
aren't they?
But if you're running around
like a blue-arsed fly,
you're literally buzzing
from one place to another constantly.
So that's simply the idea there.
Very good. I like that one.
As she does, just to go back,
he refers to the West Ridings.
We did an episode recently, didn't we,
on place names and we concentrated on London.
But in the new year, we will be moving further afield
and looking at some of the place names
a little bit around the country as much as we can.
And just the Ridings itself is a nice one because historically yorkshire was divided into
three ridings and a riding is part of the viking legacy of the area it comes from the old norse
trithing that's what it became in old english and that means third part and because riding
tripped more easily off the English speaking tongue,
tithing became riding. That's where that one comes from.
There's one to us both. This one's from Sophie in Bristol. Hi, Susie and Charles. I love something rides with purple. Thank you. And I've been listening avidly while painting my house.
And it is successfully distracting me from all things pandemic. My favourite word is cacophony.
Can you please tell me where it comes from?
Is it onomatopoeic?
Is it anything to do with coughing?
Onomatopoeic means a word that sounds like it is.
It comes from the Greek for word making.
Yeah.
Well, do you remember a while ago we had a word that meant government by the worst of citizens,
which was a cacistocracy, as opposed to an aristocracy,
which at the beginning was government by the best of citizens, which was a kakistocracy, as opposed to an aristocracy, which at the
beginning was government by the best of citizens. That was the idea. So kakos is Greek for bad,
and phonos or phony meant sound that will give us euphonious and symphony and even telephone
sound from far away. So a cacophony was simply bad sound. It is slightly onomatopoeia, but that wasn't the inspiration for its coining,
if that makes sense.
We spoke of onomatopoeia and Colin Clarke from Illinois,
one of our international listeners, has been in touch.
For some reason, I still remember my Catholic grammar school Latin teacher,
an eccentric Irish priest, saying in the mid-1960s
that the only true example of onomatopoeia is piss.
I kind of, I get that.
It is very onomatopoeia, but what do you do with the purr?
I don't think I've ever, yeah, I can get the spit, but what about the pss?
I'm not sure it's truly 100% onomatopoeic.
I think I might take issue with the eccentric Irish priest slightly.
Well, I quite like that. And I discovered recently, I think I'm right in with the eccentric Irish priest slightly. Well, I quite like that.
And I discovered recently, I think I'm right in saying that cheers,
santé, prost, that expression in Finnish, you say kippis.
Oh, I like that.
What does that mean?
Does that mean health?
That means cheers.
I don't know.
Do you know?
I don't know what it means.
Would any of our Finnish listeners like to be in touch, please,
and tell us what kippis actually means?
Love the sound of Finnish. Such a hard language.
If you want to be in touch with us, all you do is get in touch with us.
You email us at purple at something else dot com.
Susie, this is your moment where you introduce us to three special words, words that you think need to gain greater currency, real words.
words, words that you think need to gain greater currency, real words?
Well, the first one just popped into my head this morning because I was quickly making some toast before we came on air, some toast and honey. And my toast burned, unfortunately. And I've talked
before about existentialism, which is when your toast always falls butter side down.
Resistentialism is basically the hostility from inanimate objects.
That didn't happen this time, but it was a bit fire fanged,
which is another word for scorched.
So if you burn your toast, you could just say,
it's fire fanged again.
I like that.
It just popped into my head.
Fire fanged, good.
We've talked about textiles coming from various places, toponyms.
This is another toponym. And it just, textiles coming from various places, toponyms. This is another toponym
and it just, I find quite interesting because Tolkien, as we have said before, Giles, was,
you know, vastly knowledgeable about the English language. He worked on the OED, he was a professor
of Anglo-Saxon, etc. And Bilbo Baggins, if you've ever wondered where Bilbo comes from,
a Bilbo in Old English was a sword of exceptional quality. And it comes from
bilbao, bilbao being famous for its sword blades. So that's just a little nugget, which I quite like.
And this final one, it's just by as a suffix is quite useful in English, at least it has been in
the past. So a roodsby was a rather rude, obnoxious person.
An idlesby was a lazy one. A sneaksby was somebody who was a little bit sneaky. And a suresby was
one who was conceited and full of themselves. So just add by to the word. I think it's brilliant.
I mean, honestly, the opportunities are endless. So don't be a roodsby.
In Shakespeare's Twelfth Night, I know there's a line,
Rudesby, be gone.
And I never understood that line.
And now I've understood it.
I've been puzzling about that for half a century.
This is why I love knowing you, Susie Dent.
You unravel the problems of a lifetime.
You know, when I was about 10 and first came across the word Rudesby,
I thought I wanted to be, you know, prime minister, president, king.
Actually, I was going to...
Powersby.
Exactly. A leader. And I came across a lovely poem by my friend and neighbour, Roger McGough.
So my poem for this week is about, it's called The Leader. And it goes like this.
I want to be the leader. I want to be the leader.
Can I be the leader?
Can I?
I can.
Promise.
Promise.
Yippee.
I'm the leader.
I'm the leader.
OK, what shall we do?
That's it, isn't it?
That sums up the thirst for power.
And you strive and you strive.
And it's all about the battle. And then you get get it and it's like, oh, that's brilliant.
Great Roger McGruff. I love him.
Well, we really hope that you have enjoyed listening to us today.
And as you can tell, we absolutely love listening to your linguistic questions.
So please do keep emailing them in or anything you feel about the programme.
You can tweet us or you can email us at purple at somethingelse.com.
Good. Something rhymes with purple.
It's a Something Else production produced by Lawrence Bassett
with additional production from Harriet Wells, Steve Ackerman,
Ella McLeod, Jay Beale and...
He's not here today. Where is he again?
Oh, golly. Far fang the toast.