RR Phantom
Location : Wasted Space
Job/hobbies : Cayman Islands Actuary
 |  Subject: Funny: Irritating language I want to see banned. Literally.  Thu Dec 29, 2011 7:30 pm | |
| New Year is about resolutions, and I have long kept to mine, which is not to make any. Instead, I prefer to wish the spirit of gentle resolution onto others in the hope they will, by osmosis, absorb my thoughts and act accordingly. Enter my hero of the year, John Rentoul, of The Independent, who drew up a list of key words and phrases he wants banned - a wish more likely to be ignored by the masses but, perhaps, observed by a few. In the same spirit, here is my A-Z of words and phrases to avoid in 2012.
A: A-List. This persistent term, even worse than the ''movers and shakers'' it replaced, has become the national noun for the people you invite first, who could be the most popular, socially noticeable or of-the-moment arrivistes. Just as bad is ''A-lister''.
B: Brave - as in ''brave high temperatures'' (see R); also in the sense of heroism. Despite public sentiment, not everyone can be a hero. Thus cats stuck up trees are not heroic but silly for getting themselves in such a predicament.
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C: Crescendo. In music, this indicates a gradual increase in volume or intensity. Therefore, you cannot ''reach a crescendo'', as it is something that is in the process of being reached.
D: Deliver. Bakers and milkmen deliver (well, they used to); strategies, let alone key ones, are decided and implemented. Deliverance is usually by corporate email.
E: End of story. Or ''End of stor-ee!'' as Louis ''Satchmo'' Armstrong says at the end of High Society. Nowadays, the phrase is used by anyone keen to finish a dispute: ''That's my parking space, not yours. End of story.'' Calculated only to further enrage.
F: Fighting - as in ''fighting for one's life''. In truth, and however courageous this makes one seem, any fighting (or ''battling'') is done strictly by a combination of doctors and drugs acting on one's behalf.
G: Grim - as in ''the grim search for bodies''. We know it's not exactly delightful, but do we need to be reminded?
H: Hot - or ''hottest'', or ''what's hot and what's not''. The use of hot should be tempered to matters of temperature, not manufactured enthusiasm for something that's momentarily popular. The same applies to ''cool''.
I: In actual fact. A tautology, and used more than you would imagine.
J: Just got a whole lot better. Usually prefixed with ''Suddenly …'', and used to indicate a significant development that has either improved the nozzle-velocity of toothpaste or increased flights between Melbourne and Devonport.
K: Knights of old and their Ladies - as in ''Lady Susan Renouf'' or similar. One of the all-time howlers. Susan Renouf, who happened to be married to a man who was knighted (the late Sir Frank Renouf), should be called Lady Renouf or Lady (Susan) Renouf. As The Age's stylebook makes clear, the only ladies who can use their first name next to their Lady without parentheses are daughters of dukes, marquesses and earls. It does not apply to the wives, or widows, of knights.
L: Literally - as in She Literally Exploded, a book from The Daily Telegraph devoted to such linguistic cataclysms. I literally split my sides, but they're on the mend.
M: Moving forward. The only thing about this wretched phrase is that it continues to, rather than move, creep its way along. It should be obliterated, like Louis the Fly, or, at the very least, treated with derision: every time someone uses it (or ''going forward''), loud laughter should ensue.
N: New - as in something being the new something else. Black and white, 50 and 75, sumac and saffron (among countless others) have individual qualities and are, therefore, non-comparative in terms of popularity. Although, I must say, some hues have fallen from grace so effectively they can't be compared with anything. For example, whatever happened to that peculiar shade known in the theatre as ''bugger's mauve''?
O: On - as in Australia on Collins. We live in Melbourne, not New York. The same applies to such ludicrous transplants as Upper West Side or Tribeca, which makes as much sense as renaming Broadway as St Kilda Road.
P: Possessives - as with the rash of book titles, such as Voltaire's Coconuts, Flaubert's Parrot, Shmith's Cat, etc. This is but one example of the imitative nature of publishing and journalism, where such devices, if unchecked, can rage on for years. For example, when a story involves more than three people, out comes the Peter Greenaway effect, first used in his film The Cook, the Thief, His Wife and Her Lover, but freely adapted to vicars and models.
Q: Or Qanda, as the ABC's supposedly political chat-show, Q&A, has become. All those distracting Twitter messages have turned it into subtitles for the inane.
R: Rain failed to dampen their spirits. One of the worst fabrications in all journalism, which confuses people's intentions to be at an outdoor event entirely regardless of the weather with the notion that, somehow, rain, snow or sleet might in any way put them off going. Also, how do journalists calibrate the general mood of, say, a grand final crowd? Do they ask each one, ''Did rain dampen your spirits today?''
S: Suite - of ideas, thoughts, or anything other than nutcrackers or furniture.
T: Traditional. In frequent use at this time of year - everything from traditional Christmas puddings to traditional New Year's Eve at Lorne - but also pasted on as a prefix to any item remotely associated with festive or national significance to make it synonymous with patriotism.
U: Uncertain future. Just as there is no thing as a functional family, a certain future does not, and cannot, exist. I could say I am crossing the editorial floor at The Age, intending to make the tea, only to be thwarted by a giant Monty Python foot crushing me into the carpet tiles. In truth, no future is certain; all futures are uncertain.
V: Vale. It is a peculiarly Australian habit to use this archaic word (it originally meant farewell) to let people know that someone has died. Thus: ''Vale Steve Jobs''. It is also an old-fashioned word for valley, as in the Vale of York, or the vale of tears - in my case, accompanied by frenzied wailing whenever I see ''vale'' atop an obituary.
W: Winter wonderland. Originally a Christmas song, written in 1934 by Felix Bernard with lyrics by Richard B. Smith, but now almost universal in its use as a headline on any travel article concerning skiing, Scandinavia or St Petersburg at minus 15. Google has about 96 million results for ''winter wonderland'', of which 79 million are headings from newspapers.
X: As in Gen X, Y, Z or any other letter (disclosure: mine is Gen OF, for Old Fart).
Y: Years - pronounced not to rhyme with ''ears'', but ''eeze'', as so many broadcasters have it. The same people who think ''vunrable'' does not have more than one ''l''.
Z: Zero tolerance. Something the Word Police will have, when formed under my dictatorship. Severe mandatory penalties will apply. End of story.
Read more: http://www.smh.com.au/opinion/society-and-culture/irritating-language-i-want-to-see-banned-literally-20111229-1pe6q.html#ixzz1hyPTdTU3
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