Q and A - Your Questions Answered

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Q: Harry asks for the origin of 'stirring the possum.'

A: Stirring (or rousing) the possum is recorded from 1888 with the meaning of 'to excite interest or controversy; to liven things up.' It first appeared in the Town and Country Journal in June of 1888. The suggestion is that this was a deliberate play on, and reversal of, the earlier expression 'playing possum' -- which came from the observed behaviour of possums who (when they know they are observed) will freeze completely still (total immobility) in the hope that they will not be noticed. 'Playing possum' is keeping your head down and hoping to be unobserved. 'Stirring the possum' is the intentional reversal of this idea.

Q: Phil asks for the originally meaning of the word 'litany' -- which Peta (and most other commentators) use to mean a list of some kind, as in 'a litany of errors.'

A: Strictly speaking, this type of figurative use of 'litany' means 'a repetition of...' The word itself goes back to the ancient Greek word for prayer. In the Book of Common Prayer there was the 'liturgy' (most of it) in which the congregation responded to spoken prayers in a variety of ways. However, in the part called the 'litany' the congregation spoke exactly the same words in response to each part of the spoken prayer. So, anything with that kind of constant repetition is metaphorically called 'a litany.'

Q: Suzanne writes: ' Kel...can you please give some insight as to where the phase "dance the light fantastic" originated?' 

A: It's most often recorded as 'trip the light fantastic' meaning to dance nimbly or gracefully. It's the notion of being light on one's feet--gliding lightly as Fred Astrair and Ginger Rogers--rather than have 'heavy' feet that clump awkwardly. It was coined by poet John Milton. He used it in two of his poems, first in 1637 and then again in 1645. In Milton's day the word 'trip' meant to be nimble.  

Q: Suzie writes, 'I know that being on "cloud nine" means being in a blissful state, but where did it come from?'

A: It's certainly American, from the late 1940s or early 50s. It most likely comes from the US Weather Bureau. This organisation once described clouds by a number sequence. Level nine was the highest cumulonimbus, which can reach 30,000 or 40,000 feet and appear as impressive white mountains in the sky. The US Weather Bureau still reports cloud levels with numbers, but these days the highest is level ten. But despite this, our familiar idiom has remained unchanged. These days they say the highest clouds (cloud ten) are cirrus clouds in the form of white, delicate filaments, mostly in patches or narrow bands. They also use numbers for the amount of cloud cover--from zero for no cloud to eight for total cloud cover. But it was the US Weather Bureau with its clouds allocated numbers that seems to have given us 'cloud nine.'

Q: Belinda writes: 'Where does “beyond the pale” come from?'

A: It means: 'outside or beyond the bounds, outside the limits of acceptable behaviour; unacceptable or improper.' The word 'pale' originally meant a fence or barrier made from pointed stakes of wood driven into the ground. 'Pale' comes from an Anglo-Norman French word meaning 'stake.' Our word 'pole' comes from the same source. And the notion of this kind of wooden fence is the source of our 'paling fence.' From this the expression 'The Pale' came to mean a demarcation or limit around a Medieval city--outside of which the laws of the city did not prevail. One of the most famous was the Irish Pale -- an area of several counties centred on Dublin (mentioned from 1446). But it was not the only one. From these 'boundaries to civilisation' it came to be used in the figurative sense in which we use it today.

Q: John asks for the origin of 'hullaballoo.'

A: It's recorded from 1762 with the meaning of 'Tumultuous noise or uproar.' It's a word that seems to have begun in Scot and Northern English dialects. The experts say it's a rhyming reduplication of the shouted salute 'hulloo.' But there is another suggestion which is quite interesting. The claim has been made that it was originally a French wolf-hunting cry -- because the French cry of 'bas le loup' means 'down with the wolf.' Well, it's possible I suppose.

Q: Aileen asks for the origin of 'fumble' which (she says) she hears football commentators using all the time.

A: The verb 'to fumble' goes back to at least 1450. It seems to belong to a family of old Germanic words, all resembling each other, and all meaning 'clumsy, awkward, inept.' In very early English the vowel sometimes changed (to 'fimble' or 'famble'). And this makes me wonder if the word might not have been born as what linguists call a 'vocal gesture' -- that is, a collection of sounds that suggest, just by their sound alone, what they name.

Q: Dorothy wrote about the use of 'they' as a singular pronoun, saying that even if it was so used in the 1300s, English has now developed to only using it as a plural.

A:  I think there are acceptable ways to use 'they' as a singular that are reasonable, even today. E.g. "If someone wins the lottery they should..." not knowing what individual is meant by the subject of the sentence makes the 'they' in this case acceptable to most ears.  

Q: On the subject of the indefinite article ("a" or "an") Stuart writes: 'The Exhortation in the Morning Prayer Service of Anglican 1662 Book of Common Prayer contains the direction that we should confess (our sins) with an humble, lowly, penitent and obedient heart…… '

A:  Back in those days 'humble' was pronounced without the H (as 'umble'). In a similar way British toffs at one time said 'hotel' without the H (as 'otel'). Odd, but there you are. 

Q: Chris writes that when he was a schoolboy, he used to buy food at the 'tuck-shop; and wants to know how food came to be called "tuck"? 

A: The compound noun 'tuck-shop' is recorded from 1857, and a related Aussie slang word for food 'tucker' is recorded from 1833. Both seem to come from the ancient verb 'to tuck' which meant to insert one thing into another. Which is what we do with food--we insert it, or tuck it, into ourselves. 'Tuck-shop' was used in English schools, but the word 'tucker' it is distinctly ours--it is an Australian coinage. 

Q: Barry asks why Australians (usually older Australians) call petrol pumps 'bowsers.'

A: The word comes from the American man who invented the very early type of petrol pump -- Sylvanus Bowser of Fort Wayne. Indiana. His pump was launched onto the market in 1905. The first petrol pumps used in Australia were marked 'S. F. Bowser and Company.' Hence, the name. 

Q: Win writes: 'Wondering where the phrase "a brass razoo" came from.'

A: From the First World War. It was soldier's slang for an imaginary coin of very small value. It's first recorded in 1919, just after the end of the war. It seems to come from a time when the diggers were fighting in France, so the name of this fictious coin is probably a jocular variation on 'sou' -- the smallest French coin in circulation.

Q: Brian writes about my piece on the word 'grenade' and now wants to know the source of 'shrapnel.'

A: It comes from Major General Henry Shrapnel (1761–1842), a British army officer, who invented the fragmenting bomb. 

Q: Roy writes: 'Some of us have trouble with the words, "secular" and "non-secular" as they appear to be contradictory. The word " secular" to us seems to indicate a singular group or gathering -- please help. P.S. We make a special effort to view your segment with Peta on Wednesday evening.'

A:  'Secular' came into English from Latin via French in the 13th century. Its source meaning is 'the world' -- so, anything which is 'secular' is mundane, ordinary, commonplace related to the world around us. In that sense, governments are secular because they deal with the everyday world. And everyone lives in the secular (or mundane) world. So, it's not a singular group--it's everyone! But some of those people in addition have another level to their lives. Everyone is 'secular'--seeing the world as physical, material and natural, but some people while embracing and working in the secular see the world has having another dimension: beyond physical to metaphysical, beyond material to spiritual, beyond natural to supernatural. 

Q:  Graeme writes: "I enjoy watching you and Peta Cradling Can you tell me where the term ‘Buckley Chance ‘came from."

A:   This means no chance at all; a snowball’s chance in hell: “You’ve got two chances, mate – yours and Buckley’s!” (meaning: “Give up – you haven’t got a chance”) There are various suggestions as to the source of the expression Buckley’s chance – including the notion that it came from one William Buckley (1780-1856) who lived for 32 years with Aborigines in southern Victoria. However, here is the true story behind the phrase: In 1851, a certain Mr Mars Buckley, in partnership with one Crumpton Nunn, set up a store in a small shack in Melbourne. The business of Buckley and Nunn flourished. Then in 1893 a depression hit Melbourne and there was a run on the banks. Wily old Mars Buckley accompanied by four assistants carrying four leather suitcases, pushed through the crowds around the bank (who were demanding their money) and withdrew 10,000 gold sovereigns which he then locked away in a safe in his shop – leaving no chance that the bank might fritter away his fortune among other anxious depositors. Three years later, in 1895, the expression Buckley’s chance first appeared in print, leading to the expression that you have two chances: Buckley’s or none – both a play on the name of the shop, and a reference to Mars Buckley being the only winner on the day he withdrew all the cash from the bank. When first coined the expression must have meant that to have Buckley’s chance was to have a good chance. But the meaning appears to have rapidly reversed to the bleak moan we know we know it to be today.

Q: Alan asks about these old sayings: (1) 'Flat out like a lizard drinking'; (2) 'You're juggling with tombstones'; (3) 'Of they had a brain they'd be dangerous'; and (4) 'As crook as Rookwood.'

A: (1) Lizards lie flat when drinking, but 'flat out' actually means 'very busy'. So, a jocular play on words. (2) A playful way of talking about managing many tasks or challenges at once; (3) wears its meaning on its sleeve--a way of saying someone is stupid, has no brain'; and (4) Rhyming slang from Rookwood cemetery in Sydney.

Q: John writes: 'Peta Credlin described multiculturalism as " a hotchpotch of mixed cultures " Where did the word hotchpotch come from? '

A: The word goes back to the early 1400s and seems to have originally meant a dish containing many ingredients. An early version of the word was 'hotch-pot' which captures that idea. So, it might have originally meant anything from a 'throw-everything-together' stew to bubble and squeak. And it was from this origin that 'hotch-potch' broadened its meaning to describe anything that was a mixture or jumble of things. 

Q: David asks for the origin of 'tongue-in-cheek.'

A: Putting one's tongue in one's cheek was once a physical gesture of contempt. But the modern use -- referring not to a physical gesture, but to speaking jokingly -- quite possibly goes back only as far at the 1930s (although some experts dispute that and say it's older). I suppose the shift happened because the kind of joke that a 'tongue-in-cheek' expression labels is usually a cheeky joke. 

Q: Adam asks for the origin of 'make ends meet'.

A: This comes from double entry bookkeeping. To be in a financially sound position the ends (the bottom lines) of both the expenditure and income columns should 'meet' (should hit the same number). This is recorded from the 1600s, although double entry bookkeeping goes all the way back to the 13th century.

Q: Rodney asks: 'Can you tell me the origin of the saying 'stuffed shirt'?'

A: Clothing has been used to establish social rank for many, many years (although probably less so these days than in yesteryear). Someone who tried to establish their social status by wearing starched shirts in an overly formal or elaborate way was called a 'stuffed shirt' -- they were attempting to appear more important than they actually were. The expression first turned up in America and is recorded from 1913. 

Q: Warren writes: 'Just had an email from a dear friend who used the term "higgledy-piggledy". Any clues as to the origin of this?'

A:   This goes all the way back to 1598, with the meaning that it still has today: 'without any order or organisation.' The Oxford says it is a rhyming compound of obscure origin. They go on to call it a 'vocal gesture' in which the sound conveys the meaning. It may have been born from the notion that pigs are disorganised, disorderly animals 

Q: John wants to know about the expression 'best thing since sliced bread.'

A:  This is an American phrase, coined in the 1920s. The world's first sliced bread was sold by the Chillicothe Baking Company in Missouri on July 7, 1922 -- made possible by the invention of a new bread slicing machine. By 1933 80% of the bread sold in America was sliced. This was such a useful, labour-saving invention, it came to be regarded as a great breakthrough for ordinary households. By the 1930s this phrase was firmly embedded in American English as the way to label any new invention, product or idea. (The great unanswered question is: what was the best thing BEFORE sliced bread?) 

Q: Ian asks, 'what is the derivation of phrase "strange (or different) kettle of fish"?

A: It is a Scottish expression from the early 1700s -- when the word 'kettle' meant any cooking implement (not just what we mean by 'kettle').  It was used, especially on the River Tweed, to mean any fish (but especially salmon) caught and eaten on a picnic or boating excursion. Fairly quickly it was picked up and used figuratively to mean 'a completely different situation or state of affairs.' It was used in this metaphorical way by early novelists such as Samuel Richardson and Henry Fielding. Why they chose to make this figurative use of a Scottish picnic expression is unclear.

Q:  Dennis writes: I was watching Peta Credlin tonight and she referred to a million-dollar dinner hosted by the PM as a "shindig." What does the word "shindig" really mean, where does it come from and how did it come about? 

A: 'Shindig' is an American expression, recorded from around 1850. It originally meant a country dance -- hence an activity in which the participants 'shins' (their legs) were moving vigorously, 'digging' (metaphorically) into the air and into the floorboards of the barn where the country dance was held. Over time the meaning broadened out to cover any fancy celebration. 

Q: Darryl asks: 'What do people mean when they say, 'I was beside myself.' Does this mean that they believe they are having an out of body experience?

A:  It first turns up in Caxton's translation of Virgil (in 1490) where the text describes Dido's distress at the departure of Aeneas. Caxton was translating the French phrase hors de soi, outside oneself. He used beside because for him the word could mean outside of or away from. The idea was that powerful emotion had led Dido’s mind to escape her control. Her mind had got away from her and she wasn’t herself.

Q: John asks: 'What is the origin of the term "wild goose chase"?'

A: It seems that around 1600 there was a kind of horse race in which the second and following horses had to follow the (usually erratic) course of the leader at set intervals -- like the flight of wild geese. The rider of the leading horse could (apparently) make it almost impossible for the field to catch up. So, over time, 'wild goose chase' came to mean any impossible or pointless pursuit.  

Q: Mark writes: 'Kel, I enjoy your “Words Matter” segment with Peta Credlin and would like to suggest “chatbomb” for a future discussion.'

A: It's a very new expression, recorded from 2016. 'Chatbomb' means a statement that creates instant chaos in online chatrooms. It seems rather specialised to me, and I suspect that it may not catch on widely -- although that just might be me, the old fogey, being sceptical.

Q: Kerrie would like to know the derivation of “clap trap"

A:  This goes back to the 1730s and began in the theatres of London at that time. Originally a ‘claptrap’ was a piece of amusing or dramatic ‘business’ (as actors call it)—atrick or device to catch applause; an expression designed to elicit applause.It was something done on stage to (literally) trap the claps! Such stunts were usually nonsense, so by the early 1800s ‘claptrap’ was being used to mean ‘nonsense, rubbish.’

Q: Christine would like to ask about "monoculture".

A:  The word ‘monoculture’ began on the farm, in the world of agriculture, and is recorded from 1901. It originally meant a farm where all the fields shared the same crop—or even a group of farms that all shared the same crop. So the core meaning of ‘monoculture’ is s ‘shared culture.’ It has been applied to human, social cultures since 1968 with that meaning of ‘a group that has a shared culture.’ Whatever cultural differences may exist among different sub-groups, in the group as a whole there is a shared culture. That is all that the word ‘monoculture’ means—not all that threatening after all. 

Q: Ian writes: 'The ABC broadcast a disgusting video about Gine Rihehart, and then defended it on the grounds that it was "satire" -- what does the word "satire" mean? And does it cover this sort of thing?'

A: 'Satire' means (here's the Cambridge English Dictionary's definition): 'criticizing people or ideas in a humorous way.' And all the dictionaries agree on those two points: that satire is (a) humorous and (b) critical. The video shown by the ABC was neither. There was no criticism of Gina Rinehart, just the proposal that she be killed painfully, and there was no humor -- not even the hint of a joke. So, the ABC is misleading us when it claims that 'satire' is a defence for this abuse, since the one thing it was not, is satire.

Q: John writes to say that we are captives of Left-wing ideology without realising we are being held captive, and asks if the expression 'Stockholm syndrome' covers this?

A: 'Stockholm syndrome' names the inclination of captives to develop a psychological bond with their captors. It comes from a bank hold-up in Stockholm in 1973 where the robbers held four bank employees hostage for six days. 'Stockholm syndrome' names positive feelings from hostages toward their captors. I suppose it's possible that people on the payroll of governments, or on welfare payments, or receiving tax breaks, might end up celebrating their captivity and their captors. 

Q: Jeffrey writes, 'What is the origin of the phrase "Take a punt" given that punt is a boat propelled by a pole?'

A: This is a case of homonyms -- two words that resemble each other but are (in reality) unconnected. The boat 'punt' goes back to the Latin word for a flat-bottomed boat (our word 'pontoon' comes from the same source). 'Punt' meaning a bet is an Australian coinage. It first appears in print in 1965 in John O'Grady's little book of Aussie English -- but it was undoubtedly part of the spoken language for a long time before that. This may come from a much older word 'punt' used to name someone who plays against the bank in card games, which (in turn) seems to come from an older French word 'ponter' which meant 'to lay eggs (perhaps betting against the bank was always seen as a very fragile thing to do?)

Q: John asks, 'Where did the term " tall poppy syndrome " come from?  

A:  This whole ‘tall poppy’ language is certainly ours—it is an Australian coinage. It first appeared in print in 1841 in a Victorian newspaper (the Portland Guardian published in the city of Portland on the far south-west coast of Victoria). I was had a talkback caller on my radio show claim that this expression is not Australian at all—it goes back to ancient Rome, he said. The truth is that the last king of Rome, Tarquinos Superbus, did have a policy of weakening a captured city by slaughtering its leading men. But this was never called anything to do with ‘tall poppies.’ However, the journalist, or editor, who wrote the story in the Portland Guardian may well have known the story of Tarquinos and had this in the back of his mind when he wrote about how ‘tall poppies’ were treated. But the English compound noun ‘tall poppy’ is definitely an Australian coinage. The longer expression ‘tall poppy syndrome’ is much later, but it is also ours—coined in 1979 to mean disparaging and denigrating successful people. This had to be a much later coinage because ‘syndrome’ was not applied to a combination of opinions and behaviour until 1955.  

Q: Robyn asks for a guide to the correct use of "we" and "us."

A: Both are forms of the second person plural pronoun -- 'we' is in the subjective case and 'us' is the form used in the objective case. So, if the pronoun is being used as the subject of a verb it should be 'we' and as the object of a verb it should be 'us.' However, this has long been broken in conversational English and there is some evidence that it is starting to break down in written English. Perhaps we are reaching the point when we should not get too distressed about this.

Q: Matthew writes, 'Where does the word 'deadly" originate. I know it's associated with aboriginal slang, but I came to Australia from Ireland 40 years ago and it was and still is a common word used in Ireland to describe something great.' 

A: 'Deadly' is recorded as an adjectival intensifier in Australia only from 1979. The Australian National Dictionary says the word is now used chiefly in Australia and Ireland (and especially in Aboriginal English). However, there is evidence that 'deadly' has been used for a long time to mean 'extreme or excessive' -- as in 'deadly dull' or 'deadly serious.' Used in this way it seems to go back to at least the 1500s. And this intensive use of 'deadly' probably comes from its original meaning of 'fatal' -- which is about as intense as anything can get!

Q: Julie asks, 'Where does the word "shemozzle" come from please?'

A: It looks like what it is--a Yiddish word (or is based on a Yiddish word). The original is ''schlimazel' and the earliest meaning was 'an unlucky person.' Over time the meaning broadened, and it came to mean 'an unfortunate or chaotic situation.' First recorded in English in 1885. For some reason this is common in Australia (and New Zealand) but almost unknown in the United States. It is missing from Leo Rosten's brilliant 1968 book The Joys of Yiddish (based on New York Yiddish).

Q: Darryl asks for the origin of 'offside' and 'onside' in sport.

A: They both turn up about the same time -- around 1833 -- and seem to originally come from rugby football as played at Rugby School. The original form of the expression appears to have been 'off your side' -- in other words, out of the place where you were meant to be. In that form ('off your side') it appears in Tom Brown's Schools Days set at Rugby School. 'Onside' was coined as a contrast. What counts as onside or offside varies from sport to sport. However, the use of 'offsider' meaning your helper or assistant is an Australian coinage from the days of bullock driving. The bullocky walked at the head of the bullock in the right-hand side of the harness, his assistant walked on the offside -- so he was the 'offsider.'

Q:  Donna asks, 'What is meaning of, "Bald as a Badger"?'

A: It means completely bald -- totally hairless. Badgers, however, are not bald, but have a thick coat of fur, so where does it come from? Possibly as a corruption of an earlier expression 'piebald' which has been used since the 1500s to mean a mixture of motley colours. Badgers have dark grey fur -- and a white stripe running from the tip of their nose to the base of their neck, so they are 'piebald' in the old sense. However, 'bald as a badger' seems to only go back to the 1800s, and another suggestion is that it arose because badger hair was used for shaving brushes. Personally, I suspect it was coined and caught on only because of the alliteration between the two Bs. 

Q: Angela asks, 'What does this mean "Every dog has its day"? '

A: It means that eventually everyone gets a chance to succeed. This seems to be another one that Shakespeare either coined or popularized. It is in Hamlet, Act 5, scene 1. Mind you, the problem with Hamlet (as someone once said) is that it's full of quotes. Hamlet gave us, 'Shuffle off this mortal coil', 'Brevity is the soul of wit'. 'The play's the thing', 'Something is rotten in the state of Denmark', 'There are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in your philosophy', and (of course) 'To be or not to be.' The English language took wings when Shakespear wrote Hamlet!

Q: Darryl writes, 'Who coined the phrase "Bigger than Ben Hur" and how did it come about when describing something that is massive. Does it have anything to do with the movie starring Charlton Heston?'

A: It is much older than the 1959 movie with Charlton Heston. In 1880 Lew Wallace's novel 'Ben Hur' was published. In 1998 it was turned into a massive, spectacular stage play complete with live horses on stage. They even found a way to stage the famous chariot race. It was so impressive that the expression 'bigger than Ben Hur' was coined to name anything of epic proportions. 

Q: Edwina writes, 'I enjoy your segment each week on Credlin. I have an issue when a platform seeks to clarify an issue and they produce a document and call it an "explainer". Should it be an explanation?'

A: I am entirely with Edwina on this. Calling an 'explanation' an 'explainer' is nonsensical. The word 'explainer' has been around since 1579 -- and it has always meant a PERSON not the explanation offered. Yet another example of contempt for the English language. I suspect this particular bit of the uglification of English comes from what is called 'Management Speak' -- the tortuous and self-important language used by highly paid consultants. 

Q:  Richard writes, 'The word “shag” has come into the public forum since the Albanese interview was screened. How did this word originate in the vernacular version?'

A: It happened a long time ago. 'Shag' has been used to mean 'copulate' since at least 1770. The Oxford suggests this arose as a development of an earlier verb 'to shag' meaning 'to toss about' -- and I suppose a bit of that happens in copulation! That older verb goes back to around 1380 and is possibly a variation on the verb 'to shake.'

Q: Suzie writes, 'This might seem odd, and we all know what it means, I was just wondering where it originated: when we are “sick to death” of whatever.'

A: The expressions 'sick to death of' and 'sick and tired of' both emerged at about the same time -- in the early 1800s. But about 200 years earlier 'sick' on its own was used to mean being 'thoroughly tired or weary of a thing' -- meaning a mental weariness.  And 'sick' has long been used not to refer not to a medical condition but to being disgusted or fed up. So, both 'sick to death' and 'sick and tired' are just emphasised extensions of that idea. 

Q: John asks, ' What does the "rhyme" part of "no rhyme or reason" refer to?'

A:   The expression means something makes no sense -- either poetically or logically. It's first recorded as long ago as 1460. The Oxford says it probably comes from a Middle French expression which had exactly the same construction and meaning. This had been around since the 1200s. It might trace back to a post classical Latin expression that referred to poetry needing both rhyme and metre or modulation which was called 'reason.' So, it might have started as a criticism of poor poetry that lacked one or both of these things -- and then broadened out to mean any language that made no sense.