Recently I’ve been very successful at the dubious art of being annoying. It is a talent honed by many years of practice, I’m afraid. In fact, if I could find a formula to convert it into gold I would be a trillionaire.
Meantime, I will have to satisfy myself with some of the interesting things to emerge from my nuisance spree, one of which concerns use of language. For example, when I failed to notice – okay, I pretended not to notice – a friend’s fancy new hairdo I was severely rebuked.
“Oh for Pete’s sake, Marcus, how can you be so blind!” exclaimed a friend of the friend.
Who on earth is Pete, I wanted to reply. Yes, yes, it’s a common expression, but why not Marcus’s sake, or Kelly’s sake, for that matter?
A week earlier similar confusion descended when a man named Murphy burst on the scene when I blundered into someone while holding a cup of scalding coffee.
Murphy. That’s right, Murphy, some Irishman, I take it.
I had never heard of him, but suddenly he was before me. Or at least he was announced by my victim.
I can’t reprise the coffee episode with accuracy, but I recall a tone of annoyance and an expression which included “Murphy,” which might have been a neat way of sidestepping a potential profanity.
I had never heard the term, so I discreetly Googled it and found it is something Canadians say when they stub their toes.
Wow, I must have been a major, major irritant that day.
Anyway, Pete and Murphy are just two of many unheralded members of the Leader family.
So by George, I think it’s high time Barrhead heard about some of the others, most of whom appear at moments of stress.
I have a colleague to thank for several introductions. One of our recent conversations went something like this.
“Hi Marion, how’s it going today? My brain isn’t too good this morning, how’s yours?”
“Oh, I’m bird-brained Alice today,” she replied, wrestling with her computer.
On another occasion, I said: “Wow, Marion, you’re chipper today.”
“Oh yes, chatty Cathy, that’s me.”
Many a time Marion has reacquainted me with a favourite relative. No name this time, just a person who likes the odd tipple.
“My giddy aunt,” she will exclaim about something or other.
Then there’s my reporting partner Kelly, who frequently takes me to task for my English pessimism.
“We’re doomed,” I’ll say. “We have no front page picture or story.”
“Oh, don’t be such a negative Nancy,” is the retort.
Nancy? Couldn’t I at least be the masculine equivalent – Norman or Nathan, perhaps?
I suppose Negative Nancy must be the sister of Nervous Nelly or Moaning Minnie, both of whom have reared their pretty little heads at the Leader.
Of course in merry England, the language abounds with name expressions. Don’t be surprised if you hear the following exchange between two Englishmen.
“Can you Adam and Eve it? That Johnny come lately – ye know, the Smart Alec over there – is dating Lazy Susan.”
“No way Jose! Even a Plain Jane like ’er wouldn’t date any ole Joe Blow.”
“Ain’t kidding ye, mate. Don’t be such a Doubting Thomas. He just asked her out … and Bob’s your uncle. They’re an item now.”
So if anyone out there is looking for invisible friends – such as Gordon Bennett or Silly Billy or Dinglefritz – you may wish to attend my upcoming “how to irritate people” clinic. Watch this space for times, places and fees.
Hang on, is this the formula for becoming a trillionaire? Heavens to Betsy, I could soon be keeping up with the Joneses.
Before you say Jack Robinson I would be happy as Larry and living the life of Riley!
Acquiring enormous wealth is elementary, after all, isn’t it dear Watson?
