Oh, and don't we chuckle inwardly (and sometimes not even
discreetly) when we hear others make gaffs; particularly when it's
politicians. Well, I do. It makes me feel smug and superior. However, I
remember once expounding on something to do with surgery and went
rabbiting on about 'litigation'. I should, of course, have said
'ligation'.
How are the mighty fallen; pride goeth before a fall etc. Strictly speaking, that idiom (see previous post) is not correct. It should read: Pride goeth before destruction and a haughty spirit before a fall. Guilty on both charges-and I learnt something.
A malapropism is defined as the use of a word used instead of one with a similar sound. One of Richard Brinsley Sheridan's characters from his play The Rivals was prone to use incorrect words. Her name was Mrs Malaprop. Sheridan composed her name from the French mal à propos, which means inappropriate (literally it means 'poorly placed). Sheridan spawned a beautiful name for some really funny mistakes. Mrs Malaprop, by the way, is very pompous and thinks she knows it all too...
Someone I heard once, when given a lemony dessert, declared that it was very 'twangy'. Dang me, it made me want to go and wrestle myself into my cowboy boots and try that ole boot skootin'. The pudding was deliciously tangy.
Spoonerisms are named after an eccentric, absent-minded history professor at Oxford, one William Archibald Spooner. Legend has it that he asked a student to maintain his push bike so that he could ride a 'well boiled icicle'. He is also reputed to have castigated an undergraduate because he'd 'hissed my mystery lessons'. Poor man, he admitted that he made some gaffs, but doubtless many assigned to him were constructed by the students themselves. You'll find many more examples of his delectable fabled sayings with the help of your favourite search engine.
A couple of weeks ago, while watching some Australian Rules football one of the commentators said that he'd been 'gabsmocked' by something he'd seen. And during a recent visit someone near and dear to me remarked that she really wanted to see a 'frawny togmouth'. She meant the tawny frogmouth. She'll never live it down-I won't let her.
Other errors I've heard don't necessarily fall into either category, but amuse me nonetheless. One recent foot-in-mouth episode was from another footie commentator who remarked that the ball 'could go both ways'. It couldn't, but it might have gone either way. A long time ago I knew a wonderful man who often muddled his words. He told us the birds had been 'twerping' about the trees and, one frosty morning, that there was a great deal of 'conserdation' on the windows. On the national broadcaster-yes, I kid you not-one announcer said that someone had 'step foot outside' and another said that someone might need to 'change tact'.
I'll forgive the footie commentators and my friend, but find it less than satisfactory that well-paid journalists don't know the origin of sayings. Picky? You betcha!
How are the mighty fallen; pride goeth before a fall etc. Strictly speaking, that idiom (see previous post) is not correct. It should read: Pride goeth before destruction and a haughty spirit before a fall. Guilty on both charges-and I learnt something.
A malapropism is defined as the use of a word used instead of one with a similar sound. One of Richard Brinsley Sheridan's characters from his play The Rivals was prone to use incorrect words. Her name was Mrs Malaprop. Sheridan composed her name from the French mal à propos, which means inappropriate (literally it means 'poorly placed). Sheridan spawned a beautiful name for some really funny mistakes. Mrs Malaprop, by the way, is very pompous and thinks she knows it all too...
Someone I heard once, when given a lemony dessert, declared that it was very 'twangy'. Dang me, it made me want to go and wrestle myself into my cowboy boots and try that ole boot skootin'. The pudding was deliciously tangy.
Spoonerisms are named after an eccentric, absent-minded history professor at Oxford, one William Archibald Spooner. Legend has it that he asked a student to maintain his push bike so that he could ride a 'well boiled icicle'. He is also reputed to have castigated an undergraduate because he'd 'hissed my mystery lessons'. Poor man, he admitted that he made some gaffs, but doubtless many assigned to him were constructed by the students themselves. You'll find many more examples of his delectable fabled sayings with the help of your favourite search engine.
A couple of weeks ago, while watching some Australian Rules football one of the commentators said that he'd been 'gabsmocked' by something he'd seen. And during a recent visit someone near and dear to me remarked that she really wanted to see a 'frawny togmouth'. She meant the tawny frogmouth. She'll never live it down-I won't let her.
Other errors I've heard don't necessarily fall into either category, but amuse me nonetheless. One recent foot-in-mouth episode was from another footie commentator who remarked that the ball 'could go both ways'. It couldn't, but it might have gone either way. A long time ago I knew a wonderful man who often muddled his words. He told us the birds had been 'twerping' about the trees and, one frosty morning, that there was a great deal of 'conserdation' on the windows. On the national broadcaster-yes, I kid you not-one announcer said that someone had 'step foot outside' and another said that someone might need to 'change tact'.
I'll forgive the footie commentators and my friend, but find it less than satisfactory that well-paid journalists don't know the origin of sayings. Picky? You betcha!
