Your comments and questions:

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Q: David writes: 'A word which puzzles me and that is "pulchritude" which looks and sounds as though it is something unpleasant but is defined by the Collins Dictionary as "physical beauty". No doubt you will know the origin or roots of this word.'

A:  It is a strange word. It came into English from classical Latin via French -- recorded in English from the 15th century.  It is now just an archaic and literary word. 

Q: Kent writes from South Melbourne to say that Antony Albanese is the epitome of Hanna Arendt's expression "the banality of evil". 

A:  You may very well think that -- I couldn't possibly comment.

Q:  Kel, one of the top buzzwords reported for 2025, for modern youth is 6/7, of unknown provenance and unknown meaning. Does this have any connection with the very old phrase, being at 6's and 7's. I gather this indecision comes from gambling with dice? Trevor.

A:  It comes from the height of US basketball player LaMello Ball. He is six feet seven inches tall. And it has a clear meaning: "so-so, not brilliant but okay." He is a flashy and popular player, but he's no Michael Jordan, he's just "so-so". His height was popularised as '6-7' in a rap song about him and was picked up by the kids. 

Q: Marcus asks about the expression 'on the cusp.'

A: 'Cusp' means a point of transition. In the 1500s it was sometimes used to name the entrance of a house. Since 1908 we've used it exclusively to mean 'point of transition.' It comes from the Latin word 'cuspis' meaning 'point' (as in the point of a spear or javelin).

Q:  Aileen writes: 'I just wondered where the word ripper came from. It’s generally complimentary unlike Jack the Ripper which was the only usage I had come across before. '

A: 'Ripper' is an Australian coinage used to indicate strong approval. It's recorded here from 1858 and comes from the notion that 'ripping' is a rapid action that requires strength (and 'rapid' and 'strength' are seen as good things). It often appears in the combination of 'bewdy, bottler, ripper' -- here 'bewdy' means 'beauty' and 'bottler' means 'your blood's worth bottling.

Q:  Tom writes: When the expression to GASLIGHT is used, what does it mean?'

A:  'Gaslight is applied these days to any attempt to persuade people not to trust their brains to tell them the truth. It comes from the 1944 movie 'Gaslight'; a thriller in which wife killer Charles Boyer tries to persuade his new young wife, Ingred Bergman that she is going mad when she interprets what she sees as being a threat to her. It's set in the era in which houses had gaslight not electricity, and in the movie the gaslights dim for no apparent reason. The word is applied these days to any politician who tries to persuade voters not to trust their own brains. The classic example is Anthony Albanese saying that renewable energy is the cheapest, so we should ignore the fact that our power bills keep rising! 

Q: Marianne writes: 'I came across the word “oomph” today in a word puzzle and wonder about its origin.'

A: The Oxford says it is 'An imitative or expressive formation.' It first appeared in print around 1900, but only became a common word used in conversation in the late 1930s. It's a word generated purely by the sound it makes -- it suggests excitement or energy and that's what it means. 

Q:  Dear Kel, “wriggle room” popped up in James Kirby’s article on the superannuation tax in The Australian today. I really think it’s an antipodean variant on “wiggle room”. My bet is it might be from Scotland. I’ve found it in NZ too, where a lot of the migrants were Scottish. Lynne

A: 'Wiggle room" is American slang recorded from 1941 with the obvious meaning of "room to move." This variation "wriggle room" arose, I suggest, because of the alliteration it gives us -- the repeated 'R' sound at the beginning of both 'wriggle' and 'room.' English just seems to like alliterative expressions. 

Q:  We are being constantly advised to avoid Islamophobia which puzzles me somewhat. A phobia is defined in the Collins Dictionary as 'An abnormal intense and irrational fear of a given situation, organism, or object.'. Yet, Islamophobia is defined as 'Hatred or fear of Muslims or of their politics or culture'. I am personally not aware of such sentiments being a general issue in Australia. Is this shift in meaning owing to political expediency to try to downplay the overt and continuing anti-Semitism much of which is clearly coming from 'radical' Islamists? David

A:  Yes, it's a badly constructed word. As is "homophobia" which is used to mean disapproval of homosexuality. That word arose because the gay community claimed that anyone who disapproved of them must be afraid of them. A silly presumption produced a badly constructed word which has proliferated into a bunch of similar words.  

Q:  I see the word "shuttered" a lot now. Why is this word used and noted "closed" or "shut down"? Vicki

A: There are fads and fashions in language as in everything else -- and this is just the current fad, the current fashion. There is no more profound explanation I'm afraid.

Q: Pat asks for the origin of the Australian expression 'pub test' (which, she says, the expenses scandal doesn't pass!)

A:  Coined by John Howard in, I believe, the 1990s -- it means 'doesn't pass the commonsense test.'  

Q: Carol asks why we put a wreath on our front door at Christmas, since the common association of a wreath is with funerals?

A: The word 'wreath' is ancient (from the days of Old English) and just means any arrangement of flowers twisted and turned together (it's related to the familiar word 'writhe'). There was no special association with funerals until the late 1700s -- so wreaths are not especially funereally (which makes them okay for Christmas). 

Q: Rosalind suggests that rather than all the words chosen by the dictionaries, the Word of the Year should have been 'momentum' -- which, she says, is a favourite word of the Albanese government, usually indicating they standing still and doing nothing (Jim Chalmers, she writes, seems to be especially fond of "momentum" and we know what the Australian economy is doing!)

A: Well, observed Rosalind -- I like your word.

Q: Ian asks: "What was the origin of the phrase ‘bite the bullet’?"  

A: It started with battlefield surgery before the inventi0on of anaesthetics. In those dark days the one skill a surgeon needed was to be very fast--for instance, to amputate the damaged leg before the patient died from shock. Unanaesthetised patients were given spirits to drink and then told to bite on something hard--such as a bullet. Hence 'bite the bullet' is a call to be stoical about something.

Q: John writes: ' what is the misanthropic principle, and how does it relate to the anthropic principle, which I understand concerns fine tuning, or the appearance of, in our universe? 

A: The 'anthropic principle' says that the observable properties of the universe, and particularly certain of the fundamental constants, seem to be designed to support intelligent life. In other words, we are here because this universe was designed to support us. However, the misanthropic principle is totally different. This is the view that the impact the human race has had on the environment of planet earth is entirely destructive and negative. 

Q: Bruce writes: 'With the gender folk today demanding no male titles for women – batter for a female cricketer -- it started me thinking about academic grades. I have a bachelor’s degree and a master’s degree – both names being masculine.  Should they be changed to "Spinster" and "Mistress"?'

A: It just points up the stupidity of being mistaken about what counts as 'gendered' language and what doesn't!

Q: Roger writes: 'As a long-time reader of your column and an ex-teacher of some 37 years duration can I say one of the reasons handwriting is now so poor these days is because (in my opinion!) kids are not taught how to hold a pen. When I went to school in 1946 and in the years after here in New Zealand we were taught to hold the pen or pencil between the thumb and index finger and resting on the hand between the two. The pen rested on the second finger and the arm on the desk rested on the large muscle under the forearm. This gave –in my opinion a good degree of control over the pen.'

A: All perfectly correct! These days I see youngsters holding pens in their fists not their fingers! 

Q: Stuart wants to know the correct pronunciation of 'divisive'?

A: The only correct pronunciation is duh-VIGH-siv. The alternative, duh-VIZ-iv, is always wrong.

Q: Malcom wants to know about the origin of the expression "It's like the curate's egg -- good in parts". 

A: It comes from a very old cartoon from Punch (early 20th century) in which a curate is having breakfast with his bishop, who asks 'How is your egg?' and since the curate has been stuck with an egg that has gone off, but doesn't want to offend his bishop, he replies, 'It's good in parts, my lord.' Of course, a rotten egg is rotten all the way through, so the phrase "curate's egg" really means 'bad all the way through' (although it has mistakenly been used to mean 'all right in bits' which it doesn't really mean). 

Q: Nathan writes: ' we often refer to something not working properly as being on the blink. Where did this term come from?'

A: 'On the blink' is American slang recorded from 1901. It originally referred to something that was in verge of break down completely. It was 'on the blink' in the sense that (metaphorically) its eyes were slowly closing. 

Q: Andrew writes to ask why Europe was once referred to as 'the Continent'? And is it true that Australians once called England 'home' even though they had been born here?

A: Europe was called the 'Continent from around 1600. It was done to emphasise Britain's advantage as an island nation with no shared land borders. I am told that this usage no longer exists. And, yes, Australians of an earlier generation did refer to Britain as 'home' (my own grandmother did) because until the Australian Citizenship; Act of 1948 the legal status of Australians was 'British subject.' Banjo Paterson, for example, always thought of himself as British.

Q: A Christmas question -- Frances wants to know why Christmas crackers are called 'bon bons' in Australia?

A: Christmas crackers were invented (under that name) by an English pastry cook named Tom Smith in 1846. He developed the idea from the practice of giving sweets in twists of coloured paper. And those sweets were (originally) called 'bon-bons.'  That name came directly from the French word for 'good' -- so a 'bon-bon' was something that was 'good-good' or in nursery language a 'goody.' So, it appears that 'Christmas cracker' and 'bon-bon' were interchangeable labels for these treats from the beginning.

Q: Sue wants to know the origin of the expression 'it gets my goat'.

A: It means to annoy or irritate someone and is recorded in America from around 1900. Although we can't be certain, it seems that it most likely comes from a time when it was common to put an animal (usually a goat) in the stall with a highly strung racehorse to keep the horse calm. In order to the noble the horse, a race fixer would steal the goat from the horse's stall. Supporting this theory is the earliest form of the expression, which was 'to get my nanny goat.' 

Q: Andrew wants to know where 'lickety-split' comes from.

A: Lickety-split is recorded from 1818 meaning 'very fast' or 'at full speed.' At about that time 'Lickety' started to be used to form adverbs -- always with the sense of 'rapidly.' As well as 'lickerty-spit' it was used in other formations (most of which have since died out) such as  lickety cut, lickety-smash, and lickety-wallop. It seems to have arisen from nothing more remarkable than the assumption that the action of licking is one that is usually rapid.  'Split' seems to have been added from the notion that the verb 'to split' meant the same thing as 'to cut' and this was seen as a rapid action. So, put two words together that both mean a rapid action, and it implies a VERY rapid action!

Q: Paul asks: 'Did Al Gore coin the expression "an inconvenient truth' or was it around before his time? And is there such a thing as a "convenient truth'? 

A:  "An Inconvenient Truth" appears to be a coinage by Al Gore for the title of his 2006 documentary.  Since then, "An Inconvenient Truth" has taken on a life of its own as a catch-all phrase for something obvious the people don't want to confront.  Unfortunately for Al Gore many of the claims he made in that movie have turned out to be works of complete fiction, and not the truth at all.  The catastrophic rises in ocean levels that he so confidently predicted have not happened. It appears that facts trump inconvenience all the time! And no, there is no common expression along the lines of a 'convenient truth.' 

Q: Jeremy writes: ' could you explain where the term "dark horse" came from?'

A: The word 'light' means (among other things) 'revelation' or 'knowledge.' When someone understands something, we say, 'the light went on' or 'he's seen the light.'  'Dark' means the opposite -- 'hidden' or 'concealed' as in 'he was keeping his plans dark' or 'we are being kept in the dark about this.' It was this meaning that was borrowed by horse racing. From 1821 it was used to describe a competitor about which nothing was known. A horse whose potential was unknown was called a 'dark horse.' Then ten years later in 1831 Benjamin Disraeli used the expression 'dark hose' in his novel The Young Duke and made the expression widely known and popular. By 1833 'dark horse' was being used metaphorically in US politics to mean a person not named as a candidate before a convention, who unexpectedly received the nomination.

Q: Barry writes to ask about the word 'populism' -- shouldn't it (he asks) mean exactly the same as 'democracy'?

A: Yes, Barry -- and in fact that this exactly what it does mean. Some are using 'populism' as a sneer word, without making it clear why they despise it.  If a leader (or a policy) is popular (that is, has the support of the majority of the populace, or 'demos') then it is populist, and that is how democracy is meant to work.  It seems to me that the sneering use of 'populism' as a complaint happens only when a person or a policy they disapprove of is endorsed democratically. The only honest use of 'populist' is as a synonym for 'democracy'. Either use it that way, or don't use it at all!

Q: Kristine asks about the expression 'doli incapax' being used in Victoria in debates about the age of legal responsivity.

A:  It is Latin (literally 'incapable of trickery') and is legal Latin to say a person is incapable of criminal deception (or activity). Commonly used of children or the mentally incapacitated. 

Q: Joe asks for the origin of 'humble pie' -- does it come from eating deer? Or from the notion of being humble?

A: Both of those played a role. Originally it was 'umble pie' -- a pie made from the 'umbles' of inner organs, the offal, of the deer. While nobility ate roast venison, their servants had 'umble pie.' This goes back to the 1600s. By the mid 1800s the expression became 'humble pie' (perhaps as a play on words, or perhaps the original meaning of 'umbles' had been forgotten). And so, from the 1830s onwards 'eating humble pie' was being very submissive. 

Q: Jack wants to know what we men when we say 'I'm stoked' -- and where it comes from?

A: It starts with the name of a job -- the 'stoker' (a Dutch word originally) the man who feeds the furnace. Once borrowed into English we formed the verb 'to stoke' as a back formation from this noun. The figurative use of 'stoked' (meaning 'enthusiastic' or 'excited') comes from the notion that the person who says 'I'm stoked' is imagining themself as the furnace, not as the stoker -- as the one who is full of fuel and hot to trot. This seems to come from late in the 20th century. Earlier, being 'stoked' was used to mean 'well fed' -- but that now seems to have faded out of use. 

Q: Pamela wants to know about two expressions 'hat trick' and 'cook up a storm.'

A: (1) 'Hat trick' -- The term first appeared in 1858 H. H. Stevenson taking three wickets with three consecutive deliveries. Fans held a collection for Stephenson and presented him with a hat bought with the proceeds. The hat they gave him was a Fez. Of course, it should have been a bowler!  (2) 'Cook up a storm' is using the verb 'to cool' to mean 'to cause to happen / to stir up.' 'Cook up a storm' is American. It was used from 1924 to mean a literal storm, and from 1959 as a figurative expression for anything that stirs up great activity. 

Q: Harry asks for the origin of the word 'scam' (in an age, his says, of a flood of online 'scams')

A: It's American in origin and relatively recently -- from around 1963. It seems to have begun as American carnival slang. The suggestion is that it is derived from a much older word 'scamp'--which for us is a soft word we might apply to a child, but which was once a much stronger condemnation. In the 1700s a 'scamp' could be huckster or a highwayman. In turn 'scamp' comes from an Italian source word meaning 'to flee' (our word 'scamper' comes from the same source). And the criminals it names would certainly flee in haste after committing their crime in order to avoid being caught. Today's internet scammers don't need to flee -- they hide behind their online anonymity. 

Q: Albert asks where 'fuddy duddy' comes from?

A:  It first appears around 1904, with very little clue as to where it comes from. Internal repetition has certainly helped its popularity, as it has with dilly-dally, helter-skelter, tittle-tattle, willy-nilly, and dozens of others. Michaael Quinion suggests that there is one hint to where it originated: a glossary of the Cumberland dialect published in 1899 contains an entry for duddy fuddiel, a ragged fellow. Fuddiel seems to be a dialect form of fellow, while duddy is a Scots term meaning “ragged”.  What seems to have happened is that duddy fuddiel became inverted and changed into fuddy-duddy. How this happened, or why the sense shifted from somebody ragged to somebody old-fashioned, is quite unclear.  But it might be simpler than that. It's possible that 'fuddy' is a contraction of 'fussy' and 'faddy' and 'duddy' is close to 'daddy'. Perhaps. No one is certain.

Q: John writes: ' I often wonder why in spoken English we often use the "a" sound instead of an "e" sound in pronouncing certain words like "Clerk", "Derby", "Jervis" etc rather than the US pronunciation?'

A:  In English spelling does not control pronunciation. For instance, the letter combination 'ea' has multiple possible pronunciations in English.  There is no controlling connection between 'ough' words and their pronunciations. In English we just have to learn the pronunciations. The correct English pronunciation of 'clerk' is clark, 'derby' is pronounced 'darby', 'Jervis' is 'Jarvis' and so on. The name 'Mainwaring' is pronounced 'Mannering'. I could go on and on. Never try to deduce pronunciation from spelling -- it doesn't work in English. People who mispronounce the words you mention are just ignorant. They have never heard the words spoken correctly, so they say them as they are spelled, and, in that way, are led astray.

Q: Richard writes to ask about the expression 'beg the question.' 

A: This is regularly misused. Sometimes people say this when what they meant is 'it raises the question' and at other times they seem to mean 'it avoids, or doges, the question.' Both of those uses are false. Used correctly 'begging the question' is the name of a logical fallacy, of taking for granted or assuming the thing that you are setting out to prove -- in other words, a circular argument. Philosophers call this logical fallacy petitio principii. Because it is so widely misunderstood and misused my advice is never use it. Never say 'that begs the question. Rather say 'that raises the question' if that's what you mean or 'it dodges the question' if that's your meaning. 

Q:  Jack writes: 'Why, when discussing factions within the Liberal Party, do the media describe those that logically should be called progressives as "moderates"?'

A: My understanding is that this is their self-chosen label.  While the left of the Labor Party is happy to call themselves the left faction. there seems to be a feeling in the Menzies' Liberal Party that 'left' would be an inappropriate e word, so they soften it by calling themselves 'moderates' instead. They are typically economically, socially and environmentally liberal --with little interest in defending conservatism or cultural traditions.  They have at different times also been known at 'Modern Liberal" or 'small "L" Liberals'. Sometimes the British label of 'wets' (coined by Margaret Thatcher) is applied to them. Thatcher used 'wet' to mean: 'weak, inept, ineffectual, effete.'  I will ask Peta Credlin if she can add anything to this. (When did this faction begin? In the 1990s? Or earlier?)

Q: Callum writes: ' Hi Kel, I've been looking through my father's old WW2 memoirs and says their squadron was moved "lock, stock and barrel'. Where does that come from?'

A: It means 'as a whole, completely.' It's recorded from 1817 and clearly refers to the component parts of a gun. The use of the word 'lock' makes it clear this comes from the period when guns used loose gunpowder -- and the lock was the mechanism by which the gunpowder was exploded. It could be a flintlock, wheel-lock or a matchlock. And for purposes of transportation a gun could be disassembled into its component parts and later reassembled to make it whole or complete again. Hence, the source of this metaphor.

Q: Virginia asks:  What is the origin of the phrase cock-a-hoop? 

A: These days it means being pleased with some success -- and is recorded from the mid-1500s. The original meaning was slightly different; it originally referred to drinking: “to make good cheer with reckless prodigality”.  And the original phrase may have been longer: 'to set the cock on the hoop'. This meant to turn on the tap on a barrel of ale' because cock has the double meaning of both 'rooster' and 'tap.' And a hoop is a loop or circle -- so the notion was turning on the tap (or cock) and doing so again and again (around and around). 

Q:  Jason asks: How did the word 'honeymoon' come about? 

A: There are lots of legends about the origin of this word -- all of them false. For instance, there's the claim that the bride's father was required to supply mead (a honey-based drink) to the couple for the first month of their marriage. There never was any such custom. And all the other legends are equally false. The truth is that the word was coined in the mid 1500s to suggest that the first period of a marriage was the sweetest -- and nothing more. (Mind you, it might also suggest that the sweetness in a marriage wanes like the moon!)

Q: Pamela asks about the expression 'up to putty.'

A: It means not up to the usual or required standard. It's an Australian coinage, first recorded in 1909 (in a newspaper called the Sydney Sportsman). It probably comes from the fact that putty is soft and malleable and will not reliably keep its shape. It's clearly related to other expressions such as 'up to scratch' or 'up to snuff.'

Q: John asks for the history and meaning of the word 'wry'?

A: These days 'wry' means 'Dryly or obliquely humorous; sardonic, ironic.' (Oxford).  In other words, it suggests that you find a difficult situation slightly amusing. That meaning has only been with us since about 1923. The word 'wry' is a shortened (or aphetic) form of the word 'awry' which means 'turned to one side' or 'twisted.' So, perhaps a wry sense of humour is a slightly twisted sense of humour?

Q: Jennifer writes: ' Something I've been thinking about, is the word Quixotic. What's the correct pronunciation? And is there a parallel between Don Quixote and Chris Bowen?'

A:  The correct pronunciation is  kwick-SOT-ik. As for the name of the noble knight at the centre of Cervantes' novel, his name has been (and still is) pronounced in a variety of ways  -- either highly anglicized, or slightly less so. The common pronunciation I hear these days is ' ki-HOH-tee'. Mind you, Dr Johnson (and similarly highly educated people) would once have pronounced his name as 'KWICK-suht' (and some still do).  The French pronounce his name as kee-SHOT. Make of that what you will. I think it means that no one except the Spanish can properly do a Spanish accent! Is Chris Bowen like him? Well, in the sense that Bowen is 'tilting at windmills' (that is, engaging in pointless activity) there is a resemblance (and Bowen certainly has a windmill obsession).

Q: Robert writes: ' My query is about the use of ‘this’ and ‘next’, specifically in the use of events. When does ’next weekend’ become ’this weekend’? This always seems to create confusion within our family. For example, on Wednesday our daughter asked if we could look after her dog next weekend. This created a flurry of texts as to which weekend she meant. It seems the meaning of next weekend gradually changes as the week progresses, but there is no defined cutoff. Hope you can help with this important topic. '

A: Here's the rule -- 'this Wednesday' and 'next Wednesday' are exact synonyms: they are saying exactly the same thing. 'Next Wednesday' always (and only) means the next Wednesday to arrive (regardless of whether it is two days away or five days away). Next Wednesday NEVER means skipping the next Wednesday and go to the one after that.  It always means the next one that comes. And if you think about it 'this Wednesday' must have exactly the same meaning. 'Next Wednesday' NEVER means the Wednesday of the week after next -- it always means the one you will encounter next. If you want to talk about a Wednesday that is further away you could 'Wednesday of next week' or something of that sort. 

Q:  Jason writes: 'One thing that really gets my goat is when reporters say, "an historic." It really grates on my ears. What's the correct use of "an" before a word that starts with "h"?'

A: This is an excellent point. The rule is that we use "a" before any word that begins with a consonant sound, and "an" before an initial vowel sound. So 'honour' begins with 'h' but spoken aloud it starts with a vowel sound -- so it takes "an" as its indefinite article. But words such as historic, or historian, or hotel definitely start with a consonant sound. Admittedly it is the soft aspirant consonant "h" -- but it is still a consonant, nevertheless. It is correct to say 'a historic' and incorrect to say, 'an historic.' Pam Peters in her definitive style guide discusses this and says there should be a problem as long as you take care to pronounce the 'h' sound carefully.

Q: Scott writes: ' My father used this expression quite often: "That's enough from the peanut gallery!"  Any idea where it originated?'

A:  The 'peanut gallery' was (from 1876) the nickname for the top gallery in a theater (or, later, cinema), usually the cheapest seats and hence the location of the most vocal and rowdy crowd (who might eat peanuts and throw the shells at patrons in lower seats). 

Q: Geoff asks for the origin and meaning of 'dribs and drabs.'

A: This expression is recorded from 1809, and means supply coming in small, irregular amounts -- like irregular drips falling from a leaking tap. 'Drips' is an abbreviation of the word 'dribble' -- and 'drabs' is added as the sort of alliterative repetition that is common in English (e.g. spick and span).

Q: John writes to tell us about a new expression he has heard -- the 'compensation economy.' This (he says) is when government grants go to activists based on their claim of victimhood. He adds: 'The recipients then contribute to the next group's coffers and so the cycle continues.' He wants to know if this is now in any dictionaries.

A: No, this one is so new that the dictionaries are yet to catch up. I have been unable to trace the origin of 'compensation economy' (and John doesn't supply it) but it is clearly not part of the productive economy -- simply a way of labelling what happens to some of our taxpayer dollars.  It's an interesting compound noun, and research continues. (This may come out of an academic background, rather than a political background -- if any reader can supply any further information that would be very welcome.)

Q: Matt says that his father often said: 'What's that got to do with the price of fish?' and wants to know here it comes from and what it means?

A: "What's that got to do with the price of fish?" is a sarcastic expression denoting annoyance at the irrelevance of what has just been said.  Linguist Pascal Tréguer has traced variations of the phrase back to at least 1832. And it sometimes used commodities other than fish -- sometimes it's eggs or cheese or bread. One of the early versions was "What's that got to do with the price of tea in China?" So, just a popular bit of sarcasm, and nothing more.

Q: Veronica writes: 'What are the origins of: "Sleep tight, don't let the bed bugs bite." I was told that this originated in Elizabethan times. Children were tied in bed so that (a) they did not fall out and (b) to prevent bugs getting under the bed clothes!!'

A: A complete myth from beginning to end. For a start, 'sleep tight' is not recorded, until 1790, long after Elizabethan times. Secondly, it always meant 'be tightly bound to sleep' -- that is, an old-fashioned way of saying 'sleep well.' The second part of the expression (about the bed bugs) is much later still (probably early 20th century) and is just a playful rhyme to amuse small children.   

Q:  Cath writes about the pronunciation of the great French art museum in Paris -- from which the French crown jewels were stolen. She says she's heard so many pronunciations that she is now confused -- what is correct please?

A: The French definitely pronounce it with two syllables as LOOV-RAH. But I believe there is an established English pronunciation which is only one syllable -- LOOV and because we are speaking English, I believe that's the one we should stick to. 

Q:  Callum writes: 'Given we've just marked Remembrance Day I have wondered about the word 'cenotaph.'

A:  'Cenotaph' literally means 'an empty grave' -- that is, a symbolic grave that represents the deaths of many people. It comes from an ancient Greek word -- the first half of 'cenotaph; comes from the Greek word for 'empty' and the second part from the Greek for 'tomb.'

Q: Peter writes: 'Can you please explain the meaning, and origin, of the term “to second guess”. I think it means to “know with hindsight” but today seems to have the literal meaning of having a second guess.'

A: Actually, it is the very opposite of hindsight. To 'second guess' someone is to guess what they will do before they do it. Or as the Oxford puts it: 'To anticipate the action of (a person), to outguess (them).'  And I don't think that meaning has changed over the years. ositions by Catholic popes and bishops.