From Covidiot to doomscrolling: how coronavirus is changing our language
It was 1568, the plague was ravaging Edinburgh and a young merchant named George Bannatyne was stuck indoors. Since he did not have Netflix to occupy him, Bannatyne whiled away the lockdown hours compiling hundreds of poems – some of which contained very strong language. A BBC Scotland documentary broadcast last week notes that his poem, The Flyting of Dunbar and Kennedie, contains one of the earliest surviving usages of the F-word. (The line in question: “Wan fukkit funling that natour maid ane yrle.”) The earliest known example, for people who give a duck about this sort of thing, is from a court case in 1310 featuring a man called Roger Fuckebythenavele. Historians believe this was a nickname.
The Bannatyne manuscript’s colourful language got me wondering what semantic gems future generations will unearth from our own plague year. After all, Covid-19 has transformed every aspect of our lives, including our lexicon. The expression “social distancing”, for example, has gone from being a relatively unknown piece of academic jargon to something we hear multiple times a day (although the World Health Organization prefers “physical distancing”). Usage of the phrase ‘“flattening the curve” has increased exponentially. The word “super-spreader” has also spread from mouth to mouth at a dizzying rate. “Face mask”, previously an indulgence at a spa day, is now the armour you should wear – here in the US, at least – to buy groceries.
The crisis has also birthed new words. “Covidiot” (noun): someone who stockpiles toilet paper and flouts physical distancing rules to sunbathe in the park; alternatively, someone who goes to the park so they can take photos of people in the park and shame them for being in the park. “Doomscrolling” (verb): obsessively consuming depressing pandemic news, searching for whatever the opposite of a dopamine hit is. “CovideoParty” (noun): a virtual watching party. “Quarantini” (noun): an alcoholic beve
rage you sip at home. Speaking of which, it is 5 o’clock in my living room. Time for a “locktail”.