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What Australian slang has given the world

In 2013, ‘selfie’ became Oxford Dictionaries’ word of the year.
It’s become such a ubiquitous word, but few stop to think about where it came from. It may come as a surprise to learn that is has its origins in Australia: the first evidence of the word in use comes from an online forum entry by the Australian Nathan Hope, who posted a photo of his lip, which he says he cut while drinking at a mate’s 21st birthday party.
It’s not the first time an Aussie slang word has made its way into the wider English lexicon. Far from it – Australian slang has influenced the English language around the world, just as Australian culture has been transported to the world by comedians such as Barry Humphries, TV shows such as Neighbours, and actors such as Cate Blanchett and Hugh Jackman.
In the past six months, and throughout this year, Oxford Dictionaries has been steadily updating the Australian English entries to its online dictionary. By the end of this project, some 2,000 words, definitions and phrases derived from or chiefly used in Australian English will have made their way into the venerable online dictionary.
Only some of these will have made their way around the world, but just as Australians have historically borrowed many words an incorporated them into their own variety of English, other English-speakers are now borrowing from the Australian vocabulary.
Greenies, mozzies and pollies
Take ‘selfie’. For most Australian English speakers, the ‘-ie’ suffix is a natural part of the language. Unlike similar diminutives in international English, for example ‘birdie’ or ‘doggie’, the ‘-ie’ suffix in Australian English serves as a marker of informality – providing speakers with a shared code of familiarity and solidarity. Australian English is replete with such words: ‘barbie’ (a barbecue), ‘mushie’ (a mushroom), ‘prezzie’ (a present), and ‘sunnies’ (sunglasses) to name just a few.
There are a number of these types of abbreviations that have started their life in Australian English and are now to be found in global English: ‘budgie’ (a budgerigar), ‘greenie’ (a conservationist or environmentalist), ‘mozzie’ (a mosquito), ‘pollie’ (a politician), and ‘surfie’ (a surfer).
The Australian penchant for abbreviating words is also demonstrated by the use of the ‘-o’ suffix. In Australian English an ‘ambo’ is an ambulance officer, a ‘reffo’ is a refugee, and a ‘rello’ is a relative. A number of these types of abbreviations have made their way into global English including ‘demo’ (a demonstration), ‘muso’ (a musician), and ‘preggo’ (pregnant). Other abbreviations, including ‘perv’ (a sexual pervert) and ‘uni’ (university), have also migrated to global English.
Perhaps the most well-known abbreviation in Australian English is ‘g’day’. While this abbreviated form of ‘good day’ is recorded from the 1880s, it came to international prominence in the 1980s through a series of tourism advertisements where Australian actor and comedian Paul Hogan invited people from around the world to visit Australia and say “g’day”.
Many English speakers would also know about the common use in Australia of ‘mate’ (a friend, a colleague) and the great Australian adjective ‘bloody’ (used as an intensifier – ‘that’s a bloody good book’). These two words are used elsewhere but are often stereotypically associated with Australian English.
But a number of widely-used words that have either originated in Australian English, or where the first evidence and primary usage is Australian. These include ‘petrolhead’ (a car enthusiast), ‘ratbag’ (a troublemaker), ‘rustbucket’ (a dilapidated car) and ‘wheelie bin’ (a large two-wheeled bin for household rubbish).
Plenty of verbs, too, have Australian origins. Examples include: ‘to crash’ (to go to sleep), ‘to hurl’ (to vomit), ‘to rubbish’ (to denigrate a person), and ‘to stonewall’ (to obstruct a piece of parliamentary business).
They’re a weird mob…
As with other varieties of English around the world, Australian English has its fair share of idioms and phrases that are often unfathomable to the non-native speaker. This is certainly true of idioms including ‘to carry on like a pork chop’ (to behave foolishly; to make a fuss), ‘to chuck a sickie’ (to take a day’s sick leave from work – with the implication that the person is not really ill), and ‘to spit the dummy’ (to lose one’s temper).
But some Australian idioms and phrases have been taken up widely in global English. For example, ‘like a rat up a drainpipe’ (very quickly), ‘no worries’ (an assurance that all is fine) and ‘to put the boot in’ (to attack savagely, especially when the opponent is disadvantaged, or in a manner which in conventionally unacceptable).
Australian comedian Barry Humphries helped to popularise a number of phrases including some of his own inventions: ‘as dry as a kookaburra’s khyber’ (very dry), and ‘to syphon the python’ and ‘to point Percy at the porcelain’ (both terms for urinating).
Unlike selfie, it’s unlikely these particular phrases will catch on in a big way. But the culture that produced them has contributed many wonderful terms to the world’s vocabularies – and for that we should be ‘rapt as a dunny roll’.
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http://www.bbc.com/culture/story/20150427-pervs-greenies-and-ratbags

50 BRITISH PHRASES THAT AMERICANS JUST DON’T UNDERSTAND






1. “How’s your father,” “Rumpy pumpy,” “Good rogering”
Meaning: To have sex, sexual relations, get “your groove on.”
2. “Going to play some footy”
Meaning: Going to play soccer.
3. “I’ll give you a bunch of fives”
Meaning: You’re going to get a punch in the face.
4. “That was a right bodge job”
Meaning: That job went wrong.
5. “Oh bloomin ‘eck”
Meaning: A non-curse word exclamation.
6. “That’s pants”
Meaning: It’s not great, not very good.
7. “I’m knackered”
Meaning: I’m tired, exhausted.
8. “Don’t get shirty with me,” “Don’t get your knickers in a twist,” “You’re getting on my goat,” “Wind your neck in”
Meaning: Someone’s getting angry or aggravated with you…or you’re getting annoyed or
irritated with them.
9. “ I was gobsmacked”
Meaning: I was shocked, lost for words.
10. “She was talking nineteen to the dozen”
Meaning: She was talking at a speedy rate.
11. “It’s all gone pear shaped”
Meaning: Something has gone wrong.
12. “She’s a picnic short of a sandwich,” “She’s a slice short of a loaf”
Meaning: She’s a little dopey, not very clever.
13. “She’s as bright as a button”
Meaning: She’s clever.
14. “He’s as mad as box of frogs,” “He’s crackers”
Meaning: He’s mad. He’s lost it.
15. “Spend a penny,” “Going for a slash”
Meaning: To visit the bathroom.
16. “Well that’s thrown a spanner in the works”
Meaning: Plans have gone awry, a curveball has been thrown.
17. “We’re having a right old knees up,” “Heading out on the tiles,”“Out on the lash”
Meaning: To go out for the night to have a good time. To party.
18. “I’m out on the pull tonight”
Meaning: To go out looking for a lady or man with whom to enjoy a romantic liason (see #1.). To get ‘laid’.
19. “I’m going to get off with him / her”
Meaning: I’m going to kiss / snog that person.
19. “I’m quids in” / I’m skint,” / “Have you got any dosh?”
Meaning: You’ve come into money / You have no money / You’re asking someone if they have any money.
20. “Sweet Fanny Adams”
Meaning: Nothing, such as when being asked what you did for the day or what you’re currently doing.
21. “It’s just Sod’s law”
Meaning: Same as ‘Murphy’s Law’ — what’s going to happen, will happen.
22. “It’s parky out” or “It’s brass monkeys out”
Meaning: It’s cold outside.
23. “She’s such a curtain twitcher” or “Stop being such a nose ointment”
Meaning: She’s a nosy neighbor, stop being so nosy.
24. “Did you see her? She’s such a chav”
Meaning: A British stereotype for a ‘low class’ person or someone wearing ‘cheap’ clothes.
25. “That’s smashing,” “Super,” “Ace,” “Pucker”
Meaning: That’s “awesome.”
26. “Did you just fluff?” “Did you just pop?”
Meaning: Did you just fart?
27. “He’s the dog’s danglies,” “It’s the mutt’s nuts”
Meaning: He’s the best, it’s the best. Top notch.
28. “Nice baps,” “Look at those bristols,” “Look at those rose buds”
Meaning: Nice breasts.
29. “Old Blighty”
Meaning: Britain.
30. “Oh, he’s a Bobby,” “They call him PC plod”
Meaning: He’s a policeman / cop.
31. “I’ll ring you,” “I’ll give you a bell,” “I’ll give you a tinkle”
Meaning: I’ll call you.
32. “He’s such a plonker,” “ponce,” “pillock,” “tosser,” “ twit,” “knob,” “bellend”
Meaning: He’s not very nice / He’s an idiot.
33. “Stop being such a big girl’s blouse”
Meaning: Stop being such a wimp.
34. “Toodle Pip!” “Ta ta!”
Meaning: Goodbye.
35. “I’m just having a fag”
Meaning: I’m just having a cigarette.
36. “I’m totally cack-handed”
Meaning: I’m not coordinated.
37. “He’s such an anorak”
Meaning: He’s such a geek.
38. “Don’t be such a wind-up merchant”
Meaning: Stop teasing.
39. “Having a good old chinwag”
Meaning: Having a gossip / chat.
40. “She’s got a face like a bag full of spanners” / “She has a face like a cat’s arse”
Meaning: She’s not very attractive / She is pulling a ‘sour’ face.
41. “Meat and two veg”
Meaning: A man’s ‘private parts’
42. “She’s so gobby”
Meaning: She’s very mouthy, rude.
43. “She / he / it’s minging”
Meaning: She / he / it’s not very nice, disgusting.
44. “That’s mint, that is”
Meaning: Mint condition, perfect.
45. “Careful, he’s on the chunder bus”
Meaning: He’s going to be sick, throw up.
46. “Oh stop whinging on”
Meaning: Stop moaning.
47. “You look smart”
Meaning: You are well dressed.
48. “That’s lush”
Meaning: That’s nice, or that tastes good.
49. “I’m feel really grotty”
Meaning: Feeling under the weather, not well.
50. “Ta!”
Meaning: Thanks!
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http://matadornetwork.com/notebook/50-british-phrases-americans-just-dont-understand/

Six places where lexicographers find old slang

Slang lexicographer Jonathon Green's massive, three-volume Dictionary of Slang is the most authoritative work on the back roads and byways of the English language. His database of slang contains about 54,000 headwords collected from centuries' worth of materials. If you include the various phrases and derivations those words participate in, the total number comes up to to 125,000.

Historical slang research is made difficult by the fact that slang comes from the unwritten side of life. Words develop in casual (often criminal) contexts and may never be put into lasting written documents, especially when they are deemed unfit for polite society. Luckily, there are places where slang's past has been preserved, but they may not be easy to find.

Green's latest book, The Vulgar Tongue, is a history of slang that explores the places where it flourished and, more importantly, was set down on paper. Here are just a few of the places where the slang of yesterday lives on.

1. COLLECTIONS OF WORDS USED BY VAGABONDS AND THIEVES
From the 14th to 16th century in Europe, there were many books and pamphlets circulating that purported to warn good people about the tricks that beggars might use to manipulate them. Their popularity, however, was not due to their usefulness as much as their entertainment value. John Awdeley's The Fraternity of Vagabonds (1561) gives terms like Abraham man (a guy who acts crazy and walks around with a "pack or wool, or a stick with bacon on it, or such like toy"), ruffler (someone who pretends to have fought in the wars to get sympathy), prigman(someone who steals clothes or poultry and then gambles it away at the pub), and ring-faller (trickster with a copper ring who pretends to find a gold ring and then sells it to bystander).

2. THEATER DIALOGUE
The seedy underworld of London was a favorite subject for 17th century English playwrights, and audiences delighted in dialogue such as the following, from Thomas Middleton's The Roaring Girlie (1611): "I have, by the salomon, a doxy that carries a kinchin mort in her slate at her back, besides my dell and my dainty wild dell, with whom I'll tumble this next darkmans in the strommel, and drink ben bouse, and eat a fat gruntling cheat."

3. CRIMINAL MEMOIRS
Thinly disguised as moral lessons or deathbed confessions about regrets of ill-lived lives, criminal memoirs both entertained and titillated the respectable readers of the 17th century. They were full of cant and jargon and often came with glossaries. They had great titles such as The Life and Death of Gamaliel Rasey, a Famous thief of England; Ratseis Ghost. Or the second Part of his madde Prankes and Robberies; and Memoirs of the right villainous John Hall, the late famous and notorious robber.

4. SPORTS WRITING
Early 19th century reporting on prize fighting and horse racing was filled with "flash," the hip, city slang, no longer associated primarily with the underworld, but with the knowing cool kids of various classes. A fighter might get his nozzle barked, his peepers darkened, and hit in the breadbasket. Later American sports writing gave us terms like applesauce(nonsense), chin music (talk), and skidoo (go away).

5. MUSIC WRITING
The magazine Down Beat covered the slang-rich world of jazz, and in 1935 they published a glossary titled "The Slanguage of Swing: Terms the 'Cats' Use." It contained still current musical terms like lick, break and jam, as well as gems like dog house (upright bass), moth box (piano),grunt-horn (tuba), rock crusher (accordion), syringe (trombone),woodpile (xylophone), and squeak box (violin).

6. EARLY SLANG DICTIONARIES
People have always been fascinated by slang, and have long enjoyed lists of slang terms just for the fun of it. Many books and pamphlets in the above areas contained glossaries along with the text, there have also been full dictionaries of slang since 1699 when B.E. Gent (as in gentleman) compiled A New Dictionary of the Terms, Antient and Modern, of the Canting Crew, in its several Tribes of Gypsies, Beggers [sic], Theives, Cheats, &c.: useful for all sorts of people (especially foreigners) to secure their money and preserve their lives besides very Diverting and Entertaining, being wholly New which is how we know about terms like bear garden discourse ("common filthy, nasty talk"), cacafuego ("shite fire"), and cracker("a little or low-sounding fart"). In 1785, Francis Grose's A Classical Dictionary of the Vulgar Tongue recorded birthday suitgamshag, andslag. In 1819 James Hardy Vaux, who had been sent to Australia as a punishment for petty crimes, preserved some early Australian terms in hisNew and Comprehensive Vocabulary of the Flash Language. In 1859 John Hotten gave the etymological treatment to the words in his Modern Slang, Cant, and Vulgar Words, while at the same time the U.S. got its first slang dictionary with Vocabulum: or, the Rogue's Lexicon, Compiled from the Most Authentic Sources by former New York City police chief George Washington Matsell.

Now we can benefit from the collected wisdom of all these sources in Green's own 15-pound dictionary. The Vulgar Tongue, which tells the story of those sources, makes a great companion to the dictionary, taking us behind the words to the places where they were born.

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http://theweek.com/articles/539174/6-places-lexicographers-find-old-slang

Odd Job Man and Language! by Jonathon Green, review

Super-geek turned lexicographer Jonathon Green has defined slang for our age. As he explains in a new memoir, it’s not just a load of bullocks.

'Slang represents humanity at its most human,” writes Jonathon Greenin one of his signature declarative sentences, which leave a slight sense of the author looking around, whiskers a-quiver, to see if anyone is going to yell out “scuzzball” or “swamp-breath”, before he plunges on to supply us with a further definition: slang is the lexis of “our less admirable but absolutely unavoidable selves”.
Slang’s first compilers were chippy individualists, routinely beset by financial worries and complex marital lives. They were never grandees like the 70-odd team beavering away still on the Oxford English Dictionary in Great Clarendon Street (less than 30 yards from where I live in Oxford). They numbered Francis Grose (1731-91), the son of a Swiss jeweller, who was so fat that his servant had to strap him into bed every night; Pierce Egan (1772-1849), a boxing journalist and editor of Real Life in London; and John William Hotten (1832-73), a workaholic pornographer (The Romance of Chastisement) who died from a surfeit of pork chops, and was remembered, unfairly, by the phrase: “Hotten: rotten, and forgotten”. Even so, they shared many characteristics of lexicographers like William Chester Minor (1834-1920), one of the OED’s founding fathers, who was, quite conclusively, bonkers. As one of Jonathon Green’s mentors, Anthony Burgess, cautions: “The study of language may beget madness.”
Super-geeks (from geek, meaning fool) to a man, slang’s lexicographers tend to be self-appointed guardians who, while cheerfully plagiarising each other in their project to demonstrate the importance and scope of slang, have yet to agree on a definition of what, precisely, slang is, or was – or even its origin. Hotten believed slang to be a gipsy term for the gipsies’ secret language; the Oxford philologist Walter Skeat attributed it to the Icelandic slunginn (cunning), while Eric Partridge (1894-1979), a New Zealand ex-soldier, ex-publisher and ex-bankrupt, believed it was the past participle of the Norwegian/Old Norse verb sling, so giving the concept of a “thrown” language. Into this tradition, Green (from greens, meaning sexual intercourse, b 1948) fits seamlessly. “What goes in a slang dictionary and what does not is often a matter of individual choice,” he writes. “Ultimately slang seems to be what you think it is.”
Odd Job Man purports to be the autobiography of a “grossly solipsistic” only child who, professionally and emotionally, has spent his life in the margins of slang, and who probably would not demur with his publisher’s definition of his life’s work, the eponymous three-volume Green’s Dictionary of Slang (2011), as “the most comprehensive and authoritative ever compiled”. The lineage of his autobiographical tract may be first glimpsed in Groats-Worth of Witte (1592), the memoir of the cant collector, playwright and possible model for Falstaff, Robert Greene (1558-92), whose life, writes Green, “was a mixture of rackety self-indulgence and hard, productive work”. Yet Green’s kinship with Greene is largely a linguistic one, since, rather like the roots of slang itself, “thanks to history, I know nothing of my lineage”.
Green was not Jonathon’s family name (“unless it was Gryn as found in Poland”), more likely some immigrant’s compromise made by his Jewish grandparents when they fled Europe from Poland, Germany, Russia or Lithuania. “I have no past,” he writes, “and thus must start not at an ancestral beginning but merely at my own.” His compulsion to seek out the roots of a word (“it must have origins”) is a compensatory reflex. Among the words he hates are wholesome, earnest, joining in and the adjectival use of family. “Slang is my family,” he declares. And later: “All slang is the calling of names. (And as its recorder I, who am still wondering what my own surname might have been, spend my time giving names to others.)”
Green is right to warn us that his is not a conventional memoir. Restless, unable to sit still very long with himself (variously described as “I”, “You”, or even more distancingly as “One”), he cavorts around the central theme, the id defined by Freud as “the dark, inaccessible part of our personality”, getting willingly lost in the decorations – in Green’s case, books: “I read, perhaps because burying oneself in the thoughts of others is the best way of escaping from one’s own.”
One of his thoughts is that “nothing is 'unsayable’: such is the message of slang. Mine, too, at least professionally.” In fact, Green uses his memoir rather as its practitioners employ their vernacular; as a carapace, a defensive shield to duck and dive behind – and very much to avoid himself. Just as in rhyming slang, it’s the rhyming half that is always left unspoken, so do we learn remarkably little about Green’s private life, beyond the odd tossed morsel.
His father was at Dunkirk and managed a chain of clothes shops in Lincoln. Jonathon went to prep school, where he was one of the only Jews, and to Oxford (college not mentioned), where he was the “first Jew” for a surprising number of his friends. He grows his hair long, smokes dope, tries heroin, writes a porn novel (“Diary of a Masseuse”) and, just like Grose and Hotten before him, does his apprenticeship in counter-culture publications such as Rolling Stone, Oz (he edited three issues) and Kung-Fu Monthly (as Jo Nat Hon). Today, he lives in Paris and Clerkenwell, doesn’t drive, does cook, has some sons, and has used a computer since 1984. And that’s about it.
If we don’t learn a huge amount about him from Odd Job Man, we do learn about his love affair with “the vulgar tongue”, and of the eureka moment c 1970 when he read in Eric Partridge that nafka meant “whore” and was derived from East End Yiddish. But even as Green devoured Partridge, he realised that Partridge in his Dictionary of Slang and Unconventional English (1937) had failed to include any American slang. Just as all novelists write not only in response to life, but also in reaction to other novelists – from a grub of dissatisfaction – so with the makers of dictionaries. “I entered this world because I felt that he had failed on modernity, failed on teenage, failed on drugs and the rest of the so-called counter-culture.”
Doing his obsessive utmost to fill in the gaps, Green describes his job as the best he can imagine. “We tell people what words mean, where they come from, and when they arrived in the language” – which makes it sound like trainspotting. In his companion history of slang, Language! 500 Years of the Vulgar Tongue, we learn that testacles first entered the lexicon in 1425, the f-word in 1508, vagina in 1682 and sexual intercourse in 1753, that is to say three years before the first accepted use of slang. Monitoring the nuts and bolts of this vernacular via Australia and America, right up to the TV series The Wire (“We got a decomp floater was John Doe for three weeks”), Green observes the same themes being addressed repeatedly – and offers up yet another definition. “Slang is as much a collection of synonyms as anything.”
To be aware of the pitfalls is not necessarily to avoid them. “Etymology is prolix.” Where one word will do, Green chooses five (“This is the crux. The core, the pith, the marrow. The medulla…”). Grose’s first slang dictionary of 1785 had 4,500 headwords; Green has expanded this to 110,000. He lists 272 synonyms for nonsense (including ballocks, boogie-joogie, bullshit, fairydiddle, how’s-yer-father, Jackson Pollocks, pishery-pashery and whim-wham) – which is more, say, than for anger, obesity and vomiting, but not as many as for crime, money and sex. Being the province of the cynical, the amoral and the libertine, slang has not a single word for “love” (or indeed for “cherishing” or “neuroscience”), but 1,740 for “making love” (from action to zot), as well as 1,351 terms for the penis (aaron’s rod to zubrick) and 1,180 for the vagina (abc to zum-zum).
If slang were an animal, it would be a rat, decides Green – emblematic of the urban gutter and of the criminal and the victimised. With a whiskery nostril for anything that smacks of the marginalised, he trawls through the lower depths of popular culture to surface again and again with gleaming linguistic ephemera. In his relentless campaign to drag slang out of the sewer and brothel and into the drawing-room and academy, Green has no rival. He is the Dr Johnson of slang, its Putin, its Mr Toad, its Dickens.
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http://www.telegraph.co.uk/culture/books/bookreviews/10726944/Odd-Job-Man-and-Language-by-Jonathon-Green-review.html

London school bans pupils from using 'innit', 'like', and 'bare'

A list of slang words and phrases have been banned as part of a new initiative at a school in south London. Given the chance, which slang words or phrases would you put a stop to?

Students at Harris Academy Upper Norwood have been banned from using 10 informal phrases in school areas designated 'formal language zones', which includes all classrooms and corridors.
The initiative introduced in September, by the school's new principal Chris Everitt, hopes to raise awareness about the use of language and prepare students for formal situations such as job interviews.
As part of the initiative students are also banned from beginning sentences with 'basically' and ending sentences with 'yeah'.
Speaking to the Croydon Guardian, a spokesperson said the school wants students "to develop the soft skills they will need to compete for jobs and university places … and the skills they need to express themselves confidently and appropriately for a variety of audiences."
The initiative is one of many introduced since the school achieved academy status in September 2013, after being put into special measures post-Ofsted inspection in January 2013.