Basically. Do I need to say more? A nervous twitch of an inadequate speaker. A not so distant cousin of the ‘you knows’ and ‘Know what I means’, prefabricated hedges propping up the sentences of the inarticulate. ‘I mean,’ or ‘I mean to say’ in fact, often substitutes for ‘Basically’, at the start of a pronouncement, declaring the need for a translation even before anything has been said. As hedges, both expressions simulate a clearing of the throat before the arduous attempt at expressing a point. However, the plosive of ‘Basically’, blasting 3 syllables into the speech before it’s even begun, clothes the opinion in a simulated weight of rhetoric, without which the ideas to follow might be too nakedly expressed, too exposed as simple, limited or inadequate.
Before my time. Most usually heard between the ages of 20 and 30, when the illusory power of ‘youth’ can still be stated without embarrassment, it illustrates not only a lack of education and the consequent lack of confidence but the delusion of having found a solution to both. This appeal to chronology is, in fact, the last resort of the inadequate, as if chronology itself was a virtue. ‘I might be embarrassingly ignorant,’ it claims ‘but at least...I’m younger than you.’ At a stroke it cleans out the past, as if anything in life, politics, history, culture, which happened to occur before the speaker’s birth (or whatever they consider ‘their time’) is rendered meaningless; as they are now living in a safe black hole outside time. Wallowing in the complacency of ignorance ensures the speaker will reach pensionable age no wiser than they are now.
Exam question:
Q Who is to blame for the downfall of Macbeth: the witches, Lady Macbeth or Macbeth himself?
A Dunno, mate. Shakespeare, innit. Before my time.
Bless or Ah, bless. The condescending blessing of the superior. Damning those judged inadequate, simple-minded and naive by praising their innocence.
No pressure. Perhaps there may have been a time in the mid-80s when this phrase, heard for only the 999th occasion, would have raised a polite smile at its ironic nod to the acknowledgement of a daunting task with a typically English understatement, reminiscent of the jocular camaraderie of Spitfire pilots light-heartedly taking on death and another wave of Luftwaffe bombers. Today it is so tired it almost slips out without permission, tightening that former polite smile into a deadly rictus. If you find it creeping up your throat like half swallowed phlegm, cough politely, spit into a tissue and dispose with due consideration for the environment. Tech nerds, of course, will continue to deliver it with all the enthusiasm of genuine spontaneity.
No problem or No worries. An assurance when none is required; especially confusing if accompanied by the rising inflection which turns this reassurance into a question. Both versions probably have Aussie origins, although the latter is more easily heard in an Antipodean accent (with a ‘Mate’ attached). ‘No problem’ implies a voluntary or even charitable action, rather than a waged obligation, suggesting someone sacrificing their own time to make yours more comfortable. Most frequently heard in cafes as staff assure customers, no matter what (robbery, terrorist attack, hostage-taking), they will receive the coffee they have ordered. Typical (unheard) response: ‘I wasn’t expecting a problem, you’re just serving me a cup of coffee I’ve bought and paid for.’
‘Bought and paid for’ usually delivered by an irate customer; unwittingly, suggests purchase is most usually made without payment (not such an illogical assumption when confronted by the daunting statistics of debt in a credit card society).
I think it was (Warhol/Wilde/Shaw/Whoever) who said. Really? You think? Well, think a little harder, Google it if you need to, it might actually be him or her. This prefabricated qualifier to a remembered (and probably often repeated) pithy and ‘amusing’ remark is typically English in its implied inverted snobbery, showcasing an education (expensively purchased in fee-paying schools) which allows the speaker the ability to quote an epigram verbatim while retaining a mock humility in the self effacing doubt over the author; suggesting the ‘polite’ desire to conceal this education from the listener who might not have had the same privilege.
Exam question:
Q Who was responsible for the break with the traditional Scholastic-Aristotelian philosophy prevalent at his time and the development and promotion of the new, mechanistic sciences.
A I think it may have been Descartes who said ‘I think...therefore, I am.’
Quotation. Epigrams. A tag wrestler to the ‘I think’ locution in the ring of pretentious communication. Often delivered with the intension of affecting a background in the same expensive halls of education while typically regurgitated from a copy of Epigrams for Dummies: Sounding Posh and Selling Yourself. Although a speaker’s own words are surely the most honest, least dissembling and elegant mode of expression, an epigram may be perfectly fine when naturally selected from the speaker’s own learning and used appropriately to enhance a point. Although Wilde and Shaw usually receive a regular airing (and own whole chapters in the Bluffer’s Guide), here’s a familiar variation on the theme: ‘The rich are different to you and me, said Fitzgerald. Yes, they have more money, replied Hemingway’. Although this exchange never actually took place, its ability to drop two literary names simultaneously, proves irrisistible. I recall a cousin of mine sagely delivering this line with great confidence to a saloon bar of business colleagues. His unwittingly reversal of the names passed unnoticed in the knowing smiles as no one he was addressing had read the writers either.
If it’s meant to be, it’s meant to be.’ A fatalistic cod-philosophy abnegating individual responsibility; most familiar from interviews with X Factor contestants although more recognisable to an older generation as Doris Day’s ‘Que sera, sera.’
Highly related in both media outlet and its complete absence of meaning is ‘It is what it is.’ Popularised by X Factor judge Simon Cowell, it might sound like a quotation from Sartre’s Being and Nothingness but has more in common with Sinatra’s ‘Do be do be do’ as it also relinquishes any responsibility to comment on, in Cowell’s case, yet another mediocre performance act.
110% has been around so long now it is usually inflated to 150%, although with no consequent refreshing of the cliche. Sports coach speak (a genre in itself) for ‘give everything.’ More recently, declining perhaps to inflate to 200%, it has spawned the organic growth of ‘Don’t leave anything in the dressing room’ (not to be confused with PE teacher speak for ‘This school’s full of thieving little shits’)
He’s lost the dressing room. Sounds really careless but this is commentator-speak for ‘the players think the manager is a rank and file prat’ who, in any case, earns less than them.
To die for. Print journalism hyperbole, most usually regurgitated by women and homosexuals. Liberty, Fraternity, Equality, the lives of your own children...these might offer you something to die for, not a pair of Manolo Blahnik heels.
Weird. Any experience outside the immediate mundane life of the speaker. It speaks not only of a limited vocabulary but a lack of imagination and internal life.
Before my time. Most usually heard between the ages of 20 and 30, when the illusory power of ‘youth’ can still be stated without embarrassment, it illustrates not only a lack of education and the consequent lack of confidence but the delusion of having found a solution to both. This appeal to chronology is, in fact, the last resort of the inadequate, as if chronology itself was a virtue. ‘I might be embarrassingly ignorant,’ it claims ‘but at least...I’m younger than you.’ At a stroke it cleans out the past, as if anything in life, politics, history, culture, which happened to occur before the speaker’s birth (or whatever they consider ‘their time’) is rendered meaningless; as they are now living in a safe black hole outside time. Wallowing in the complacency of ignorance ensures the speaker will reach pensionable age no wiser than they are now.
Exam question:
Q Who is to blame for the downfall of Macbeth: the witches, Lady Macbeth or Macbeth himself?
A Dunno, mate. Shakespeare, innit. Before my time.
Bless or Ah, bless. The condescending blessing of the superior. Damning those judged inadequate, simple-minded and naive by praising their innocence.
No pressure. Perhaps there may have been a time in the mid-80s when this phrase, heard for only the 999th occasion, would have raised a polite smile at its ironic nod to the acknowledgement of a daunting task with a typically English understatement, reminiscent of the jocular camaraderie of Spitfire pilots light-heartedly taking on death and another wave of Luftwaffe bombers. Today it is so tired it almost slips out without permission, tightening that former polite smile into a deadly rictus. If you find it creeping up your throat like half swallowed phlegm, cough politely, spit into a tissue and dispose with due consideration for the environment. Tech nerds, of course, will continue to deliver it with all the enthusiasm of genuine spontaneity.
No problem or No worries. An assurance when none is required; especially confusing if accompanied by the rising inflection which turns this reassurance into a question. Both versions probably have Aussie origins, although the latter is more easily heard in an Antipodean accent (with a ‘Mate’ attached). ‘No problem’ implies a voluntary or even charitable action, rather than a waged obligation, suggesting someone sacrificing their own time to make yours more comfortable. Most frequently heard in cafes as staff assure customers, no matter what (robbery, terrorist attack, hostage-taking), they will receive the coffee they have ordered. Typical (unheard) response: ‘I wasn’t expecting a problem, you’re just serving me a cup of coffee I’ve bought and paid for.’
‘Bought and paid for’ usually delivered by an irate customer; unwittingly, suggests purchase is most usually made without payment (not such an illogical assumption when confronted by the daunting statistics of debt in a credit card society).
I think it was (Warhol/Wilde/Shaw/Whoever) who said. Really? You think? Well, think a little harder, Google it if you need to, it might actually be him or her. This prefabricated qualifier to a remembered (and probably often repeated) pithy and ‘amusing’ remark is typically English in its implied inverted snobbery, showcasing an education (expensively purchased in fee-paying schools) which allows the speaker the ability to quote an epigram verbatim while retaining a mock humility in the self effacing doubt over the author; suggesting the ‘polite’ desire to conceal this education from the listener who might not have had the same privilege.
Exam question:
Q Who was responsible for the break with the traditional Scholastic-Aristotelian philosophy prevalent at his time and the development and promotion of the new, mechanistic sciences.
A I think it may have been Descartes who said ‘I think...therefore, I am.’
Quotation. Epigrams. A tag wrestler to the ‘I think’ locution in the ring of pretentious communication. Often delivered with the intension of affecting a background in the same expensive halls of education while typically regurgitated from a copy of Epigrams for Dummies: Sounding Posh and Selling Yourself. Although a speaker’s own words are surely the most honest, least dissembling and elegant mode of expression, an epigram may be perfectly fine when naturally selected from the speaker’s own learning and used appropriately to enhance a point. Although Wilde and Shaw usually receive a regular airing (and own whole chapters in the Bluffer’s Guide), here’s a familiar variation on the theme: ‘The rich are different to you and me, said Fitzgerald. Yes, they have more money, replied Hemingway’. Although this exchange never actually took place, its ability to drop two literary names simultaneously, proves irrisistible. I recall a cousin of mine sagely delivering this line with great confidence to a saloon bar of business colleagues. His unwittingly reversal of the names passed unnoticed in the knowing smiles as no one he was addressing had read the writers either.
If it’s meant to be, it’s meant to be.’ A fatalistic cod-philosophy abnegating individual responsibility; most familiar from interviews with X Factor contestants although more recognisable to an older generation as Doris Day’s ‘Que sera, sera.’
Highly related in both media outlet and its complete absence of meaning is ‘It is what it is.’ Popularised by X Factor judge Simon Cowell, it might sound like a quotation from Sartre’s Being and Nothingness but has more in common with Sinatra’s ‘Do be do be do’ as it also relinquishes any responsibility to comment on, in Cowell’s case, yet another mediocre performance act.
110% has been around so long now it is usually inflated to 150%, although with no consequent refreshing of the cliche. Sports coach speak (a genre in itself) for ‘give everything.’ More recently, declining perhaps to inflate to 200%, it has spawned the organic growth of ‘Don’t leave anything in the dressing room’ (not to be confused with PE teacher speak for ‘This school’s full of thieving little shits’)
He’s lost the dressing room. Sounds really careless but this is commentator-speak for ‘the players think the manager is a rank and file prat’ who, in any case, earns less than them.
To die for. Print journalism hyperbole, most usually regurgitated by women and homosexuals. Liberty, Fraternity, Equality, the lives of your own children...these might offer you something to die for, not a pair of Manolo Blahnik heels.
Weird. Any experience outside the immediate mundane life of the speaker. It speaks not only of a limited vocabulary but a lack of imagination and internal life.
