Linguistic Musings

It has occurred to me recently that I am not really giving enough exercise to the super-duper specialist skills I developed during my time in University. This is particularly surprising due to my own pedantry on the subject, which is: words.

Clearly I am aware that I have used words in previous entries, and I believe that if I chose to communicate through a more pictographic medium my blog would become significantly less understandable. Of course, having a blog made completely of pictures would, at least, keep trifling ‘Anonymous’-types away, although, arguably, pretty colours may attract more of them.

I have, therefore, decided to outline some of my more recent explorations into lexical nit-picking.

I live in an area that is largely populated by a certain type of person, namely ‘fighters’, or to allot them a title which sounds less dignified ‘people who want a fight’. I don’t really have a problem with people involved in either boxing or ultimate fighting which, while I do think it is stupid, at least takes place between people who are both willing, nay eager, to do injury to one another. My problem lies with people who want a fight. In an environment not cordoned off specifically, even a ramshackle arrangement by two willing individuals is highly likely to encroach upon bystanders, either dragging in further participants, or causing annoyance to the disinterested. This is a pastime enjoyed by absolute bell-ends, and I am also aware of the needless provocation of labelling people in this way. Essentially if you are offended by the last sentence I imagine you’ll want a fight, which is not going to happen.

I will never ever be in a ‘fight’. Should such an occasion arise, I will almost certainly be ‘attacked’, and should I have need to ‘defend myself’, I would still protest vehemently at the resulting fracas being described as a ‘fight’. I am just finicky about distinctions that way, though that will be of little consequence to my bloodied face.

Having made myself a target for aggressive drunkards, I feel I should probably lighten the tone a bit, which I will attempt to do with a short anecdote set in a Bureau de change.

I was in one such establishment, changing British pounds into Canadian dollars, though that is extraneous information, when a woman standing nearby was asked to give her name in order to complete a transaction. Upon readying herself, she declared herself as: Mrs. B. Strange. I was caught short for a moment as I pondered whether this was a joke on her part. It wasn’t. I think if I had such a name, I would give it in full to avoid giggling. I am glad that she is not such a person however, as it caused me a small amount of glee in what was an otherwise glum and rainy day.

Alternatively, if I were the owner/operator of such a name, I would play heavily on the eccentricity, and introduce myself at parties with:

“Yes, I’m Strange, my husband’s Strange, his parents were Strange, and of course, our children are Strange. Apart from my daughter, she married into an Odd family. You should meet her husband, Jonathan Odd, he is very strange.”

I just wish she was an old fashioned news anchor and could finish all her news broadcasts with:

“And remember, be strange.”

I can only hope that her name is Beatrice or Beatrix so that her eventually tedious pun of a name is unavoidable. It is also possible that her husband purposefully only dated people called Beatrice in order to assure the pun would come to pass. If so, he is my hero.

I have recently been noting the practical naming of protective clothing. A fire retardant outfit will protect you from fire, a bulletproof vest protects you from bullets, and a space suit protects you from space. Similarly, fluorescent clothing can protect you from the flu, which is an important thing to bear in mind in the current climate (please note; bearing this in mind will not protect you from bears).

In more serious, yes similarly tedious, observations, I have been taking perverse pleasure in tut-tutting English-Welsh translations. Signs often fail to be accurate, even when they do avoid the mesmerising huff-ups found in Swansea. I find amusement in huge mistakes, immense interest in slightly differing translations.

A sign on a train going into Cardiff reads in English: “Smile! You’re on camera.” It’s Welsh counterpart declares: “Gwenwch! Mae camera yn eich gwylio”. Translated into English, the Welsh phrase literally reads: “Smile! A camera is watching you”. It would be impossible to translate the ‘on camera’ phrase into Welsh directly, as it is an idiom that is not present in the language, and would sound clunky and unnatural, however, the actual Welsh translation is incredibly sinister. The English phrase manages to extract all responsibility from the situation – it is no one’s responsibility that you are on camera, you just are. In the Welsh sign, the camera is personified, and given an eerie sentience, as though your actions on the train are being mechanically followed by a recording gargoyle on a dark purpose.

This cross-language gap is also present in other phrases. In English, the term ‘scarecrow’ is completely functional, what does a scarecrow do? It scares crows. Dissimilarly, the Welsh term for the scarecrow is ‘bwgan brain’. ‘Bwgan’ is a childish term, probably comparable to the English, ‘ghoulie’ or ‘ghostie’, whilst ‘brain’ (which isn’t pronounced like that) means ‘crows’. So essentially it means ‘Crow Monster’. Crow monster, what does it do? Not really sure, I imagine it creeps around at night and kidnaps your children. Welsh is a sinister language.

Despite its flexibility, and vast incorporation of words from other languages, English can, at times, be incredibly unimaginative and uncreative in its implementation. One example of this becomes apparent in contrast to the Welsh term ‘cyfansoddair’. This term is made up on two words: ‘cyfansodd’ (compound) and ‘gair’ (word), which means that not only does the term stand for the creation of one word out of many, it is an example of it. In contrast, English takes the words ‘compound’ and ‘word’ and creates the phrase ‘compound word’. How very boring Mr English Language, I think I will be cancelling my subscription to your magazine.

Although that will render the years I spent studying English Language fair redundant.

Harrumph.

'Monkey'

I like monkeys. I also like the term ‘monkey’. My main issue with this term is that it is perhaps not as acceptable as I would like it to be, especially in the mischievously pejorative way I would like to use it. I tried to perform a study of what adjectives the word ‘monkey’ could be conditioned with in order to make it acceptable.

Adjective 1:

“You are a cheeky monkey.”

This is by far the most socially acceptable use of adj + monkey in order to describe a human being. It seems as though everyone has come to a consensus that the quintessential behaviour of a monkey could be summed up as cheeky. This is perhaps informed by the swinging and oohing & aahing that monkeys are most stereotypically envisioned as performing. It would be interesting to find out whether the throwing faeces element of monkey behaviour is also considered ‘cheeky’, and I would argue that even if this is ‘cheeky’ in terms of the behaviour of monkeys it would not be considered similarly if it was a human being undertaking the action. In fact it may even be considered incredibly deviant. Although if someone were to lock me in a cage who knows what I would resort to.

Adjective 2:

“You are a sexy monkey.”

This phrase perhaps doesn’t spring so readily to mind as its predecessor (that would be ‘cheeky monkey’ if you’ve forgotten), but it still has the ring of something you could get away with socially. I feel that the phrase ‘Sexy monkey’ would suggest an individual that is impish and adventurous in their sexual tendencies. This is interesting as there are monkeys who are very sexually obsessed (the bonobo for instance – I won’t link any photos), and yet it is not promiscuity that this phrase suggests, at least to my own ear. So with these two acceptable uses of monkey this leads me onto my third possible use.

Adjective 3:

“You actually look like a monkey.”

Now sticklers will point out that there isn’t an adjective per se in the final example, and I think you would be right. But that’s my example and I’m sticking to it, so there. Now direct comparisons to animals without conditioning the term with an adjective is largely depreciatory, although this may depend on social stereotyping of the animal in question and also the context of who is doing the saying and who it is being used to describe. For instance describing someone as a dog is usually bad, and even though puppies seem to be the universal unit of cuteness describing someone as a puppy would by and large be seen as an underhanded snipe. Similarly a cow, a pig, an elephant, a chicken, a turkey or a horse are all negatively charged descriptors.

Intriguingly the only one of these examples I have used, as a flirtatious gambit no less, is the third example. In a mildly drunken state (not an excuse) I spent the evening describing a lady friend as actually looking like a monkey. It is perhaps testimony to her sense of fun that she took these relentless descriptions in good humour, although it is equally as possible that she was unaware just how similar she was in appearance to a monkey. In honesty she didn’t look that much like a monkey. Although she looks enough like a monkey that she could have reacted badly. She is also similar to a monkey in behaviour (see earlier: pooh throwing etc).

Just to be clear, I have never seen anyone throwing their droppings, I err on the side of caution as I do not want to libel anyone.

The clever so-and-sos amongst you will also understand that another reason the term ‘monkey’ is not socially prevalent/acceptable is because of its racist connotations. In order to clarify, and hopefully alleviate worries about the inappropriateness of my ‘look like a monkey’ comments, they were said to an individual of Eastern heritage. In retrospect she may have thought I was comparing her to the character Monkey, from the late 70s TV show Monkey Magic. That is perhaps more questionable than comparing her to an actual monkey. He has awesome sideburns though (which she was lacking)

I suppose the point that I am cack-handedly attempting to make is that negative and ignorant terms are often reclaimed by the groups who they are used against, terms such as ‘queer’ have been reclaimed by the gay community, and there is a continued, though controversial, reclaiming of the term ‘nigger’ by the black community, though it is worth noting that not all members of these groups perhaps desire this reclamation. Although that is a redundant explanation, for there will be members of any group, however strictly defined that group is, that disagree on certain issues with the group as a whole. For instance, the current Archbishop of Canterbury, Rowan Williams, is, vocally at least, not as anti-homosexuality as the Christian establishment as a whole, and yet is forced to kowtow because of the opinion of the group ‘as a whole’.

My question then is this: Can we not reclaim the term ‘monkey’?

I admit that my reasons behind this are purely selfish, I like the term monkey, listen to it, it sounds awesome. I don’t want to have to qualify it with ‘cheeky’ or ‘sexy’ (silly would perhaps work as well).

Can we start using it again?

No, I don’t suppose we can.

For some reason I now really want to go to the zoo.