Category Archives: words

Railspeak

About a week ago David Marsh wrote a brilliant article in the Guardian about the peculiar torture of Railspeak, that surpassingly odd distortion of English perpetrated by train companies:

Railspeak is a language with a unique syntax and vocabulary — characterised by, for example, the mandatory use of auxiliary verbs (“we do apologise”), the random deployment of redundant adjectives (“station stop”, “personal belongings”) and the selection of inappropriate prepositions (“journey time into London Paddington is approximately 25 minutes”).

Trains never leave, but “depart”, never reach their destination, but “terminate”, and are frequently delayed by mysterious “incidents”. Rail catering, meanwhile, has been transformed from a music hall joke (British Rail sandwiches) to a surreal world of its own, offering among other treats “teas, coffees, hot chocolates [sic] …” (Has anyone tested this by asking how many varieties of hot chocolate are, in fact, available? To enjoy, perhaps, while reading the safety information leaflet in braille?)

Meanwhile, someone should tell the announcer at Waterloo station that the ever-lengthening list of things we can’t do — smoke, run, cycle, skateboard, find a rubbish bin, find a seat — does not, so far, extend to playing boules or yodelling. Is this an oversight?

Customers requiring enhumoration into their Monday will find the article in the vestibule at the end of the post. Here.

Word of the Week

As my purpose in being here is as a catalyst is to educate all you barbarians bring you new and interesting insights and ways of looking at the world, I’ve decide that we’ll have a new regular series: Word of the Week. Yes, it will appear weekly — well most weeks anyway; no guarantee I won’t miss, or move, some! And as this is the first in the series, and it’s Wednesday, the series will appear regularly on a Monday.

OK, so here’s this week’s word, with it’s definition from the OED …

zygodactylous. Having the toes ‘yoked’ or arranged in pairs, ie. two before and two behind, as the feet of a scansorial bird. [As in the feet of most woodpeckers.]

Oh bugger. That means we’ll have to have a second word. So here’s your week 1 bonus …

scansorial. Used for climbing. Of or pertaining to climbing; specifically of the feet of birds and animals, adapted for climbing.

Labia minor

Labia minor is a good example of the unexpected surprises and humour which exist in the world of biological nomenclature. In this case the name applies not just to the “two longitudinal cutaneous folds on the human vulva” but is also the specific name for the Lesser Earwig.

Fortunately such eclecticisms are being collected by Mark Isaak at Curiosities of Biological Nomenclature. As Isaak says:

Scientific names of organisms are not usually known for their entertainment value. They are indispensable for clarity in communication, but most people skip over them with barely a glance. Here I collect those names that are worth a second look.

Some names are interesting for what they are named after (for example, Arthurdactylus conandoylensis, Godzillius), some are puns (La cucaracha, Phthiria relativitae), and some show other kinds of wordplay (such as the palindromic Orizabus subaziro). Some have achieved notability through accident of history, and many show the sense of humor of taxonomists.

If you’re interested in either biology or words it’s well worth a look. But prepare to be amazed for amongst the collected examples you’ll also find:

  • Unifolium bifolium (European May Lily); basically “single leaved plant with two leaves”
  • Abra cadabra (a clam)
  • Ba humbugi (a snail); from the Fijian island of Mba
  • Panama canalia (braconid fly)
  • Mozartella beethoveni (encyrtid wasp)
  • and of course Labia minor (Lesser Earwig); “small lips”; don’t ask why this would be appropriate for an earwig!

Isaak has even included an essential guide to the basic rules of biological binomial nomenclature. And a section on the (increasingly weird) names being given to genes – the well known gene sonic hedgehog isn’t the half of it!

My favourite? Well one of the best named is surely Boselaphus tragocamelus, an antelope (below) whose name translates from the Latin as “ox-deer goat-camel”. Clearly named, as well as designed, by a committee!

Pandemic

Following on from my post of yesterday, it seems that WHO really are bowing to political pressure and redefining pandemic to take account of virulence as well as geographical spread. As an academic, Vincent Racaniello, author of the Virology Blog, is typically scathing:

WHO redefining pandemic is absurd. Pandemic is an epidemiological definition that has nothing to do with virulence […] Although pandemic is most frequently associated with influenza virus, other infectious agents may cause worldwide epidemics […] WHO should leave textbook writing to others. To paraphrase Andre Lwoff, a pandemic is a pandemic. The word implies nothing about virulence – and has little to do with politics.

As a fully paid-up pedant (and erstwhile academic) I entirely agree.

Today's Word: Glaive

The first in an occasional series bringing you unusual and interesting words.

Glaive. A polearm consisting of a single-edged blade on the end of a pole.

One of those fearsome pieces of medieval weaponry along with things like pikes and halberds. The word is sometimes (wrongly) used to refer to a broadsword. Glaives also appear in a number of video games and animated adventure films.

There’s a bit more at http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Glaive.
Illustration from Wikipedia Commons.

Neologism

Reported to me by an acquaintance a guy on a radio programme yesterday saying that his boss had asked him to:

come down and throw a few things in the ideas wok and stir-fry up some solutions.

I’m just speechless.