World Wide Words -- 15 Mar 14

Michael Quinion michael.quinion at WORLDWIDEWORDS.ORG
Thu Mar 13 23:01:00 UTC 2014


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WORLD WIDE WORDS           ISSUE 873          Saturday 15 March 2014
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Contents
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1. Feedback, Notes and Comments.
2. Misanthrope.
3. Wordface.
4. Brown Windsor soup.
5. Sic!
6. Useful information.


1. Feedback, Notes and Comments
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WINKLE OUT  Several readers suggested that a much earlier example of 
the figurative sense appeared in Sense and Sensibility, by Jane 
Austen, published in 1811: "What sort of man is he, Miss Dashwood? 
Is he butcher, baker, candlestick-maker? I shall winkle it out of 
you somehow, you know!" Unfortunately for word sleuths, this appears 
only in the 1995 film and was an invention of the scriptwriter, Emma 
Thompson, who is thereby condemned to ceremonial hissing and booing 
for historical linguistic inaccuracy.

Many people noted that I might also have mentioned winklepickers, 
shoes with a long pointed toe. These were favoured by stylishly 
dressed young British men (and some women) of the late 1950s and 
early 1960s.

CLUBBING  The majority response to Ted MacKinney's query last week 
about "clubs hands" is that the phrase isn't colloquial American 
English and so must be an unconscious blend of "club together" and 
"join hands with". However, Harry Campbell found that the phrase 
"clubbing hands with" does appear online in several sources, all of 
them from India, where it may be an accepted expression. He also 
discovered an American example from a book of 1874, Forgiveness and 
Law, "To make sure against him, he undertakes to strengthen himself 
by clubbing hands with his great public enemy!" This may be set 
aside as an accidental one-off creation.


2. Misanthrope
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A misanthrope dislikes the human race and avoids human society as 
far as possible. He - most are male - isn't an easy person to get 
along with, and he would greatly prefer you didn't try.

"Misanthrope" is from the classical Greek "misanthropos". It shares 
with "misogyny" and a few other words a beginning from "misein", to 
hate. The second part is from "anthropos", a human being, which we 
also have in words such as "anthropology". From the same source, 
"philanthropy" is the opposite of misanthropy, literally a love of 
mankind that expresses itself in active efforts to help other 
people.

History and fiction record many misanthropes. The best-known 
fictional one is Alceste, in Molière's comedy Le Misanthrope of 
1666, which helped to popularise the word. The most famous real 
person was Timon, though strictly speaking we have to take the word 
of a couple of classical Greek writers that he actually existed. He 
is said to have lived in Athens in the fifth century BC and became 
known as Timon Misanthropos because he turned against people after 
he lost his fortune through being too generous to his friends and 
had to earn a living as an agricultural labourer. His story was 
taken up by William Shakespeare; around 1606, in collaboration with 
Thomas Middleton, he wrote what is probably his least popular play, 
Timon of Athens:

    I am Misanthropos, and hate mankind,
    For thy part, I do wish thou wert a dog,
    That I might love thee something. 


3. Wordface
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PEDAL POWER  A reader's comment attached to a Guardian story online 
attracted Bill Edmonds's attention: "on your bike". This was clearly 
intended in a literally dismissive sense of "go away" or "clear off" 
and he wondered where it came from. It's British and dates - so far 
as anybody can tell - from the 1960s, though it might be as old as 
the Second World War (some connect it with the actor Jack Warner in 
the days before he became PC Dixon of Dock Green). It's probably 
Cockney, often as "on yer bike", rude but not obscene, a rephrasing 
of the older "push off". "On your bike" become much more widely 
known in the 1980s following a speech at the Conservative Party 
Conference in 1981 by the then Employment Secretary, Norman Tebbit, 
in which he said that his father hadn't rioted in the 1930s when 
unemployed, but had "got on his bike and looked for work". It became 
a catch phrase urging somebody to get a move on or make an effort.

CHICKEN RUN  Dennis Vandenberg used the expression "Nobody here but 
us chickens" but, when challenged, couldn't explain where it came 
from. About a decade ago, an American phrase finder, Sam Clements, 
unearthed an example in a 1909 issue of the Daily Northwestern of 
Oshkosh, Wisconsin, which showed it to be in origin a racist joke.  
A farmer, on hearing a noise in his chicken house, called out "who's 
there?" to which came the reply, "Nobody here but us chickens, 
massa." Another version appeared in Everybody's Magazine the 
previous year with the punchline, "Deed, sah, day ain't nobody hyah 
'ceptin' us chickens". It must surely be even older. The expression 
was widely popularised by the 1946 number-one hit single, Ain't 
Nobody Here But Us Chickens, by Louis Jordan and His Tympany Five.

DEADLINE TIME  Barry Rein asked about a comment in the Economist of 
6 March that Prime Minister David Cameron has been called the "essay 
crisis" prime minister for his tendency to take decisions at the 
last minute. It's been applied to him a number of times, at least as 
early as the Independent on Sunday in October 2011: "He is an 'essay 
crisis' prime minister, best at make-or-break time". The term has 
been around for decades among students faced with the panic-inducing 
realisation that carefree procrastination has left them needing to 
produce thousands of words of relevant prose in next to no time.


4. Brown Windsor soup
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Subscriber David Procter recently alerted me to a curious culinary 
and linguistic conundrum.

Brown Windsor is a British soup that rarely appears on menus these 
days, though chefs such as Jamie Oliver have reinterpreted it for a 
new generation. Some recent books and foodie websites salute it as a 
grand old traditional dish which fuelled the nineteenth-century 
middle classes and sustained the British Empire. This is one:

    This hearty soup was both nourishing and popular during 
    the Victorian and Edwardian periods. In fact, Queen 
    Victoria was fond of this soup, and it was often served at 
    royal banquets.
    [The Unofficial Downton Abbey Cookbook, by Emily Ansara 
    Baines, 2012.]

The problem is that nobody has found any mention of brown Windsor 
soup before this:

    After queuing for a quarter of an hour for a seat, he 
    shared a table with a woman whose idea of a suitable four 
    o'clock meal was brown Windsor soup followed by prunes and 
    custard.
    [The Fancy, by Monica Dickens, 1943.]

If it was so significant a dish, why isn't it in published Victorian 
menus and why isn't it mentioned in any cookery book or newspaper of 
the period?

The name "brown Windsor soup" may have been a mashup of several 
other terms. A Windsor soup is known from the nineteenth and early 
twentieth centuries and appeared on many menus, one classic recipe 
requiring chopped beef, veal and bacon. White Windsor soup also 
existed, a vegetable soup which a recipe of 1911 says was made from 
white stock, mashed potato and sago. Some writers have used Windsor 
soup for calves' feet soup, a food for invalids said to have been 
served to Queen Victoria in childbed. A few very early recipes for 
Windsor soup say it should include Windsor beans, presumably the 
source of the name (despite one claim online, there's no connection 
with the British royal family, which changed its name from Saxe-
Coburg-Gotha to Windsor only in 1917). In Victorian times dinners 
might begin with a choice of brown or white soup, so named. The 
former was a meat soup whose recipes broadly match those of the meat 
form of Windsor soup.

There's one other possible constituent of the linguistic melange, 
the similarly named brown Windsor soap. Its first appearance was in 
an advertisement in the Times in 1818 and it seems to have had an 
excellent reputation. It is said to have been a mixture of olive oil 
and ox suet, coloured with burnt sugar or umber. It's possible that 
people could have unconsciously conflated "brown soup" and "brown 
Windsor soap". 

Alternatively, and more plausibly, they might have been conjoined as 
a humorous denigration of an inferior version of brown soup during 
the austerity of the Second World War.

    And I can remember - which of my generation can't? - 
    the particular culinary horrors of war: Woolton pie, 
    composed of vegetables and sausage meat more crumb than 
    sausage, and brown Windsor soup which tasted of gravy 
    browning. ... Woolton pie and brown Windsor soup featured 
    largely on the menu of the British Restaurants set up 
    under the aegis of the Ministry of Food to provide 
    inexpensive and healthy meals.
    [Time to be in Earnest, by P D James, 1999. Woolton Pie 
    commemorates Lord Woolton, Minister of Food in 1940.]

Whatever its origins, references to brown Windsor soup are common 
after the Second World War, often in horrified descriptions of the 
then dreadful state of British cooking in pretentious restaurants 
and on trains and ferries. It became shorthand for awful food; 
comics only had to mention it to get a laugh.

But as we've seen, in some quarters brown Windsor soup is now held 
up as an example of excellent nineteenth-century British fare. To 
explain the change probably needs a culinary expert or a folklorist 
rather than an etymologist.


5. Sic!
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George Watson found this in the rules of the Twiggy competition in 
the 25 February issue of the British publication Women's Weekly: 
"The winner will be selected at random from all correct entries 
received after the closing date."

We now know, via John Donlevy, that the Australian Spectator wrote 
on 8 March about a Friday night lock-in at a former pub in 
Melbourne: "If you wanted to get in after the doors were shut, all 
you had to do was throw pebbles at an upstairs widow from the car 
park next door."

Kate Schubart was also amused by a missing letter, in a column in 
the Washington Post on 10 March: "Half of the money will come from 
his fortune as a former hedge-fun manager."

In a piece of 6 March, Norman C Berns noted, the gossip site TMZ 
reported: "David told TMZ Live he got [Michael Jackson's] dental 
impression from a Beverly Hills doctor that he got at an auction."

Acquisition fever knows no bounds, Lisa Robinton learned in the 18 
December issue of an e-newsletter from MakeUseOf.com: "After being 
acquired by Google, the world was waiting to see what Motorola would 
come up with."


6. Useful information
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