Just Williams

Simon takes a semantic journey

EVERY SO OFTEN a really nifty new word slips into the lexicon. ‘Brexit’ is a good example, neatly combining ‘British’ and ‘exit’ with the irony of an electoral X in the middle. Now we have ‘upskirting’, a perfect new transitive verb, vivid, concise and somehow Chaucerian. What would the male equivalent be? ‘Downtrousering’ perhaps – though obviously you’d need a different lens.

Some baby boomers suck their teeth at the reckless way ‘young peeps does mangle d’lingo’, but like Canute with the tide, it’s a battle we’re bound to lose. Who but the dazzling AA Gill could have conjured up the phrase ‘the full English’ to describe the cancer that was killing him? We’re lucky that young people talk to us at all, so who cares if their language is a bit à la carte.

I grew up in a world where the grammar police were rampant. Mid-sentence, some crusty old pedant would interrupt my flow… ‘My friend and I, boy–not me.’ Get over it, bro. There’d be a sharp intake of breath at harmless words like couch, lounge, serviette etc – they were pariahs at the table. What a load of old shoe repairmen. Nancy Mitford and John Betjeman have a lot to answer for; who cares what’s U or nonu? What’s wrong with fish knives or horse riding? Is putting the milk in first really such a gaffe? Come on, hanging baskets aren’t really that awful. There are better ways of judging people – like if they’re funny or interesting or kind or if they’ll pop round with their jump leads on a wet evening when your battery’s flat. Language is a runaway train, trying to stop it is a waste of time, like trying to mend your children’s ripped jeans (yes, we did).

On the matter of word usage, you can’t imagine how relieved I was to read that the Stangers’ Dining Room at Westminster has declared that the nation’s favourite stodgy pudding will henceforth be called Spotted Richard. So, boys and girls – no more dick jokes, OK? The foolhardy Tory member for Lichfield reportedly harrumphed, ‘Call a dick a dick, I say!’ A slogan I’m sure he’ll live to regret when he’s next on the hustings. But where will this pud-purge end? Surely Eton mess and jam roly-poly must now register: #Justiceforpuds.

I do hope this name change is quite unconnected to the news that staff working in Parliament were recently caught trying to access online pornography 160 times a day, if you please! Even on a stomach full of suet, that’s every nine minutes! Order, order!

Meanwhile, I was pleased to hear that when President Trump was asked for his thoughts on Cambridge Analytica, he responded, ‘Pay her off.’

Simon is in Allelujah! until 29 September, and plays Justin Elliott in The Archers