language

Oxford Word of the Month: April – temp

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temp adjective exciting; trendy.

THE STORY BEHIND THE WORD OF THE MONTH

In 2018, a campaign has been run by Nova FM breakfast show hosts Ryan ‘Fitzy’ Fitzgerald and Michael ‘Wippa’ Wipfli to create a new word, or, rather, a new sense for an existing word. This word is temp, abbreviated from temperature, and used to refer to things that are exciting, trendy, or ‘cool’. It was coined by Wippa, in an attempt to find an Australian alternative to the (originally) American cool.

This is not the first word to be invented: this happens all the time with words that refer to new inventions or technologies, for example, and authors have often made up words that have become part of everyday vocabulary. Examples include robot, coined by Czech author Karel Čapek in a 1920 play, cyberspace, coined by science fiction writer William Gibson in 1981, and cultural cringe, coined by A.A. Phillips in 1950. Politicians often create new terms, sometimes unwittingly; in 2017 US President Donald Trump’s possible mistyping led to the creation of the word covfefe, although what it means was left to the imagination of those on social media.

Campaigns to create a new word are slightly different and can vary. In 2012, the Macquarie Dictionary was involved in a campaign to come up with a neologism for the action of snubbing someone in favour of your mobile phone – phubbing was the winning suggestion and it has gone on to become a word with some currency, perhaps because it was a term that described an activity that had yet to find a name.

It is trickier to have a slang term enter the broader vocabulary. Many slang terms only gain currency within small groups – for example, within a group undertaking a particular activity (such as surfing or skateboarding), or within particular youth groups. Social media has helped slang gain wider currency to some extent, although why some slang words take off and not others sometimes remains a mystery.

In trying to popularise temp the power of radio was harnessed, with Fitzy and Wippa promoting the word on their program and encouraging celebrities such as Chris Hemsworth and Keith Urban to use it. Social media has been another way of popularising the word:

@fitzyandwippa @nova969 so nova has the best ever cohost @edsheeran this doesn’t get better than that guys and that’s a fact guys—1 million tickets sold too. Let’s tune in via the application if you can’t listen direct on FM tonight is going to be #temp. (Nathan Henry‏ @DJ_NATDOG, February 28)

A legal graffiti of the word was made on a wall in Marrickville, and the word has been discussed on several television programs, including Channel Seven’s Sunrise and Channel Ten’s Studio 10.

Whether temp gains widespread and continuing usage remains to be seen, but its story provides an interesting example of one of the many ways words can find their way into our language.

The Australian National Dictionary Centre will be monitoring temp for possible future consideration for inclusion in the Australian National Dictionary.

 

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Oxford Word of the Month: March – magic

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noun: a double ristretto coffee with steamed milk.

THE STORY BEHIND THE WORD OF THE MONTH

Australian coffee drinkers, especially those in urban centres, are blessed with quality, choice, and good baristas when ordering their daily fix. Stories abound of Australian travellers complaining about the poor quality of coffee found in cafes in the UK, US, and Europe, and we are familiar with the ‘flat white revolution’ from down under that’s been exported to cities such as London and Paris.

The Australian love affair with various forms of espresso coffee really took off in the early 1980s. Before this, Italian and Greek cafes in Melbourne and Sydney had been serving espresso coffee for decades following post-war migration, but it took a while for the rest of the country to catch on.

Australian English is the beneficiary of our need for coffee. Amid the cappuccinos and lattes, flat white, long black, and short black are locally grown terms, all dating from the early stirrings of the espresso trend in the 1980s. The continuing popularity of the cappuccino also gave Australia the babyccino in the 1990s, and the mugachino in the 2000s.

The latest Australian coffee term to enter the lexicon is magic, first recorded in the current decade: ‘I’m loving the new style of coffee called a ‘magic’ … double shot ristretto with a splash of milk.’ (Geelong Advertiser, 8 May 2014)

It has been described as a ‘three-quarter flat white’, a ‘three-quarter latte’, ‘more coffee-ish than a latte’, and as ‘Melbourne’s gift to the world’. The trend is strongly associated with Melbourne, where it’s said to have been invented: ‘The story goes that it was dubbed the magic at Ray in Brunswick some time back in the early 2000s.’ (Sydney Morning Herald, 21 January 2014) Naturally, the association with Melbourne has provoked the inevitable rivalry with Sydney. The same article asks: ‘Can Sydney make a magic?’

Perhaps the choice of magic as a name was influenced by its use in the name of two Melbourne institutions: an NBL team and, formerly, a radio station. But the appeal of the magic has now spread further afield. There is web evidence of it in cafes across the country from Perth to Brisbane. An Adelaide cafe acknowledges the origin, offering ‘a Melbourne magic’ on the menu. Tasmanians too know about it: ‘Make mine a ‘magic’. So hot right now… Order one now before it’s so cool it becomes uncool.’ (Hobart Mercury, 26 August 2017) A Sunshine Coast newspaper describes the process of making one:

Served in a small vessel. Start with a double ristretto base, add a small amount of milk. ‘It’s basically 50% coffee and 50% milk, served not too hot, and that’s called a Magic.’ (Caloundra Weekly, 4 June 2015)

Now that the magic is on our radar, we will be watching to see if it becomes more widely used in Australia, and worthy of an entry in our dictionaries.

Magic will be considered for inclusion in the next edition of the Australian National Dictionary.

 

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Oxford Word of the Month: February – doing the doors

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noun: (of a politician) giving doorstop interviews to the media, especially at Parliament House.

 

THE STORY BEHIND THE WORD OF THE MONTH

A favourite tactic of journalists seeking comment from politicians is to conduct a brief interview with them as they enter or leave a building. In Australia this kind of interview has been known since the early 1980s as doorstopping or a doorstop (‘I doorstopped the Premier, who ruled out an early election’; ‘cabinet members didn’t hold the usual doorstops before their weekly meeting’). In theory the doorstop is an impromptu occasion, but it is often used as an opportunity for a party or government to deliver a scripted message. It is a familiar piece of theatre on the nightly news.

In the twenty-first century we find a new term for this activity: doing the doors (‘the Member for Barcoo is doing the doors today’). The term casts politicians as agents seeking to be interviewed, rather than as innocent victims of doorstopping. The earliest recorded evidence shows that the ‘impromptu’ interview is often planned:

A new Labor backbencher has admitted the federal Government has a roster of MPs primed and ready to deliver the message of the day to waiting media as they walk through the doors of Parliament House every morning.
‘Doing the doors’ gives politicians a chance to comment on the issues of the day, to turn round negative stories in the papers and breakfast radio and TV, or add to their opponents’ discomfort. (The Australian, 19 June 2008)

Doing the doors in the political sense is an Australian English term. An older meaning exists for the same expression in Australia and elsewhere; it describes the job of a bouncer, who controls the intake of patrons at clubs and pubs, or the job of a door person, who sells tickets at the door of an event or performance.

A sense of performance is certainly inherent in the Australian meaning, and critical reviews are not uncommon. One commentator referred to the politicians who ‘do the doors’ at the bidding of their leaders as ‘puppets reciting their prepared statements when allocated the task of “doing the doors” for the television grabs’. (Crikey, 10 June 2011) Another described doing the doors as ‘the cute ritual of pollies lining up at the main entrance on the Reps side of the building to deploy pithy one-liners for the assembled media hacks’. (West Australian, 1 December 2009)

But doing the doors continues to be an important ritual for media and politicians, and, despite cold winters and frosty mornings in the nation’s capital, the show must go on:

Frost lay on the ground. Hot air balloons hung in the sky. At 7.50am in the national capital, Eric Abetz was doing the doors. (Sydney Morning Herald, 2 June 2010)

 

Doing the doors will be considered for inclusion in the next edition of the Australian National Dictionary.

 

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Oxford Word of the Month: January – egg flip

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noun: a kitchen utensil with a broad flat blade for lifting and turning food.

THE STORY BEHIND THE WORD OF THE MONTH

The history of egg flip is an interesting one. In standard English use, dating back to the 1830s, it is a sweetened milk drink containing beaten egg, with rum, brandy, or other flavouring. Many, perhaps older, Australians will know a tame version without alcohol from childhood. (It used to be recommended as food for invalids.) The second element in this sense of egg flip may derive from flip in the sense ‘to whip up’.

The first exclusively Australian meaning occurs in the 1950s, when egg flip is recorded as rhyming slang for a racing ‘tip’:

As a horse was led close to them, the Wrecker, eager for information, addressed the trainer: ‘Ah Doc, how about givin’ a bloke d’egg flip?’ (J. Alard, He Who Shoots Last, 1968)

Since this time, another Australian meaning of egg flip has become much more common than the rhyming slang sense. It refers to the long-handled kitchen utensil with the broad, flat blade, used for turning and lifting food such as fried eggs, rissoles, and pancakes. (The same thing is called a fish slice in British English.) Australians have several names for this utensil, with spatula perhaps the most common, but egg flip is also widely used.

It is unclear whether this sense of egg flip is related to the earlier egg and milk drink. Perhaps it was influenced by the existence of the older term, but with a different understanding of the second element. Anyone flipping pancakes with this utensil is likely to interpret the flip in egg flip as meaning ‘to turn over’.

Recorded evidence is fairly recent, dating back to this report of a recipe for ‘Egg Toast’:

Fry the … slices in the frying pan with the margarine. …Turn the toast over with the egg flip, fry that side too. (Canberra Times, 26 July 1985)

However, anecdotal evidence suggests the name egg flip for the utensil is likely to be found earlier than the 1980s. The following editorial comment in a Western Australian newspaper is tantalising as possible early evidence:

Many thanks for the item, which I handed to ‘Virgilia’ as suitable for her pages. ‘Sonny Boy’ apparently did not appreciate your method of applying the egg flip. (Perth Western Mail, 13 January 1938)

‘Virgilia’ was the name of the editor of the ‘Virgilians’ Friendly Corner’ section of the newspaper, which published letters from women about their lives and families. In this context, the reference to ‘applying the egg flip’ to ‘Sonny Boy’ may (unfortunately) point to the punishment of a child with the utensil.

Egg flip will be considered for inclusion in the next edition of the Australian National Dictionary.

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Oxford Word of the Month: December – John Farnham

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noun: used allusively of a comeback or reappearance, especially after a final performance or retirement.

THE STORY BEHIND THE WORD OF THE MONTH

John Farnham (‘Johnny’ in his early days) is a hugely successful Australian contemporary pop singer. His professional career spans fifty years from the 1960s until the present, and his 1986 album Whispering Jack remains the highest-selling album in Australia. With ‘The Last Time’ tour (2002–2003) he announced his intention to stop touring nationally, but he has made several comeback tours since then. Indeed, his love of touring has made his name a byword for an inability to remain in retirement:

She said she wouldn’t but Suzi Quatro has done a John Farnham, booking an encore tour two years after her farewell tour of Australia. The leather-clad legend … gets the joke when asked if she was ‘doing a Farnsie’. (Townsville Bulletin, 28 September 2016)

The Farnham habit is not restricted to the music business:

Some call it persistence and tenacity. My daughter describes it as a Johnny Farnham comeback. I call it standing up and fighting for what you believe in, and not allowing the bastards to grind you down. (Pauline Hanson on her return to political life, maiden speech to the Senate, 14 September 2016)

And there are a number of variations on the theme. You can find evidence for do a Farnham, pull a Farnham, chuck a Farnsie, and have more comebacks (or farewells) than John Farnham. The Johnny Farnham comeback tour is the name of a cycle ride on a social network site for athletes (Strava, 23 April 2017), and the phrase was also used to describe a Question Time tactic in the Australian parliament:

By yesterday, awkward segues to Dastyari were looking a little tired; today they felt like a John Farnham comeback tour. (The Monthly, 14 September 2016)

The use of Farnham’s name in this way harks back to another Australian singer renowned for comebacks: Dame Nellie Melba, the world-famous operatic soprano. She staged a number of ‘farewell’ concerts in the 1920s, with her last in 1930, the year before she died. Her name lives on in phrases that date from the 1940s and are still in use today: to do a Melba and more farewells than Melba. However, in the comeback context, John Farnham is now giving Dame Nellie a run for her money.

The allusive use of John Farnham and variants on the name will be considered for future inclusion in the Australian National Dictionary.

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Oxford Word of the Month: November – platypup

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noun: a baby platypus.

THE STORY BEHIND THE WORD OF THE MONTH

There is some discussion on the Internet about the correct name for a baby platypus. Some commentators note that a baby platypus may be called a puggle, while others say that puggle refers only to a baby echidna. The following writer has an alternative:

A common misconception is that a baby platypus is called a puggle. There is no actual official name for a baby platypus, but a common suggested name is ‘platypup’. (Sunshine Coast Sunday, 13 January 2013)

The word platypup has received some interest in recent years, including the establishment of a Facebook page to campaign for its official acceptance: ‘Platypup: Give the baby platypus a name’.

Platypup has a long but interrupted history. The earliest evidence appears in the 1940s and refers to the first platypus bred in captivity, in a Victorian wildlife sanctuary:

A platypup’s birth made history … For more than two months Fleahy restrained his longing to take a peep at the platypup. Then, last Monday, he dug down to the blind end of the burrow, found the nest and brought the youngster up for a quick inspection. (Sydney Sun, 9 January 1944)

A year later the same baby platypus is mentioned in several newspaper items:

Platy-Pup Is One Year Old … Corrie, the first platypus to be bred in captivity, is one year old. (Brisbane Courier-Mail, 25 January 1945)

The ‘Sun’ called the first baby platypus to be bred in captivity a ‘platy-pup’. But what’s wrong with a ‘platy-kitten’? (Melbourne Advocate, 13 January 1945)

Following these references to Corrie the platypup there is almost no evidence for the term until the 2000s. Most of the recent evidence is found online in the context of discussion about the correct name for platypus young. Platypup also appears in a series of children’s fantasy books, which may indicate an increasing awareness and use of the term—except that the authors are American:

After one final yawn, Pippi wandered into the kitchen, grabbed a crayfish tail, and called, ‘Mom! Dad! I’m going outside!’ ‘Don’t go too far,’ came her father’s sleepy voice. ‘You’re still a platypup.’ ‘Okay!’ she called back, as she headed for the burrow entrance. (Trevor Pryce, Joel Naftali, and Sanford Greene, The Rainbow Serpent, 2015)

Despite talk of ‘correct’ and ‘official’ naming, it is the continued usage of a word, and its acceptance by a wider audience, that cements its place in our vocabulary. At present puggle (which emerged in the 1990s, transferred from the proprietary name of a range of soft toys) has the edge over platypup. The echidna and the platypus, as the world’s only egg-laying mammals, are closely related. Puggle is already established as the name for a baby echidna, so it is not surprising to find increasing evidence of puggle used as a name for the young of both animals.

It is possible that platypup and puggle may coexist for a while as synonyms, until one establishes itself as the preferred term. Puggle may have the advantage.

Platypup is being considered for inclusion in the next edition of the Australian National Dictionary.

 

 

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Oxford Word of the Month: October – lady tradie

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noun: a female tradesperson.

THE STORY BEHIND THE WORD OF THE MONTH

Tradie is a word first recorded in Australian English surprisingly recently—in 1994. Despite this, it has become entrenched in our lexicon. It is conveniently gender-neutral; as job titles began to shift in the 1980s away from being masculine, the popularity of abbreviated forms increased (for example fireman to firie), thus avoiding cumbersome forms (such as fireperson).

But while tradie should be a word that refers to either sex, the use of the term lady tradie reveals that many people assume a tradie to be a man. Lady tradie is first recorded around 2006, used as the name of a painting business run by a woman in Geelong. Evidence suggests other women have made use of the ‘Lady Tradie’ title as a business name.

While the word lady now seems old-fashioned, and many women see it as patronising, it has no doubt been partnered with tradie because of the rhyme. It is now used widely, if usually in contexts where the issue of gender and the trades is being discussed, such as this discussion of a young girl’s ambition to secure an apprenticeship:

Blayney High School’s Eliza Ewin is a future lady tradie and she is starting early to develop her skills and get a taste for the industry. (Blayney Chronicle, 7 September 2014)

And in this discussion of a radio station’s search for Perth’s ‘hottest tradie’:

So far we have two lady tradie finalists—one is a roof carpenter and the other is a sparkie. There are model good looks in our trade force out there. (West Australian, 16 September 2014)

Morning television host Samantha Armytage described herself as a lady tradie in 2016 when preparing for a design segment on the show, and the label is also used by websites and Facebook groups that promote the work of women as tradespeople and provide support networks for women in the industry.

But not all female tradespeople embrace the term unreservedly. Fiona Shewring, who founded the organisation Supporting and Linking Tradeswomen (SALT), has questioned the term because it suggests women are not equal to men within the industry:

‘Girls don’t realise they can do this work’, said Ms Shewring, who rejects the popular term ‘lady tradie’ because she feels it puts an unnecessary focus on gender. ‘Saying “lady tradie” has a connotation of not being a full tradie … Jobs shouldn’t have a gender’, she said. (ABC News, 11 August 2016)

 

Despite this concern, we continue to see the term used in the media, attesting to the fact that we do not yet consider that a woman is just as likely as a man to be the tradie who knocks on our door—but she may be in the future.

Lady tradie is being considered for inclusion in the next edition of the Australian National Dictionary.

Oxford Word of the Month: September – cubby house

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noun: a part of a family home organised or designed so that adult children can have privacy from their parents.

THE STORY BEHIND THE WORD OF THE MONTH

High rents in urban areas and the housing affordability crisis in Australia have given rise to a now familiar problem for parents: when will the kids leave home? And until they do, how can we all live under one roof? Adult offspring need less parental attention than children, but they are likely to want more privacy—a big ask for many suburban households.

Recently a survey found two-thirds of adult children report that they can’t afford to move out of home, with some expecting to remain at home until the age of 30 or more. The company commissioning the survey used the term cubby house syndrome to describe domestic arrangements for such families:

CoreLogic chief executive Lisa Claes said this could see the rise of ‘cubby house syndrome’, whereby parents attempt to fashion independent living arrangements for their adult children inside the existing property. (News.com.au, 8 May 2017)

The term evokes an aspect of childhood for many Australians: a cubby house is a children’s playhouse, usually solidly constructed. The Australian cubby house (recorded from the 1890s) is a specific use of the British English cubby-house ‘a children’s name for a snug, cosy place’, or ‘a little house built by children in play’.

The cubby house of childhood is typically a permanent feature of the backyard, but the new type of cubby house for the adult child is more likely to be indoors. It is the flip side of the parents’ retreat, an Australianism dating from the 1970s, when parents decided they needed a private wing or room in the house away from their growing children. The new retreat for adult children is likely to be at the other end of the house, and possibly a converted garage, rumpus room, or house extension.

A newspaper headline recently interpreted it this way: ‘Cubby-house kids take over the granny flat.’ (The Australian, 9 May 2017) Granny may still have a say in this, but the prospects for under-30s home ownership are unlikely to change soon; she may have to share.

Cubby house and cubby house syndrome are being considered for inclusion in the next edition of the Australian National Dictionary.

 

Oxford Word of the Month: August – honey joy

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noun: a honey-flavoured biscuit containing cornflakes

THE STORY BEHIND THE WORD OF THE MONTH

In 1938 a simple recipe for a crisp honey-flavoured biscuit appeared in a Victorian newspaper:

Honey Joys … Five cups cornflakes, 3 dessert-spoons butter, 2 table-spoons castor sugar, 1 table-spoon honey. Melt butter, sugar, and honey; mix in the cornflakes, put into paper patty cases, and bake in a moderate oven for three minutes. Take out, and leave to set. (Melbourne Argus, 13 July)

There are earlier references in the 1930s to store-bought lollies called honey joys, but the recipe above is the first evidence we have of the cornflake-based biscuit we know today, and uses the same ingredients and method. The variant form honey crackle, first recorded in 1941, is less common, but is still in current usage: ‘My first memory of cooking is with my grandma making honey crackles…’.(Perth Eastern Reporter, 10 November 2015)

Breakfast cereals are a cheap and convenient ingredient for sweet biscuits, and there are some well-known examples in Australian cuisine. Rolled oats feature in the traditional Anzac biscuit, while more highly processed cereal is the main ingredient for the honey joy and another Australian classic, the chocolate crackle, based on rice bubbles. Chocolate crackles and honey joys emerged in the same period, and both became favourite party snacks for children. But honey joys are easier to make. According to this writer, they are foolproof:

When my chocolate crackles would not set and my toffees fell into misshapen blobs in the patty cases, I always knew my honey joys would pull through. (Canberra Times, 19 March 1991)

And pull through they have, for nearly 80 years. The simplicity of the recipe, the convenience of using ready-made cereal, and the cornflake crunch have no doubt contributed to their continuing popularity. They have a long association with children’s parties, school fetes, fundraising events, and country shows:

Last weekend, the family and I spent all day at the Yankalilla Show … The stalls were groaning with honey-joys, chocolate slices, rock buns and sultana loaves. (Adelaide Sunday Mail, 7 October 2007)

Our fondness for them means they have achieved the same nostalgic status as other typically Australian fare:

Our daughter Karen, living in London … had an Australia Day Supper on the 26th January with other Tasmanians. It consisted of—vegemite sandwiches, honey crackles … sausage rolls … and lamingtons (found it a hassle making those), together with Australian wine and milo. (Deloraine Western Tiers, 19 March 1992)

Honey joy and honey crackle are being considered for inclusion in the next edition of the Australian National Dictionary.

 

 

Oxford Word of the Month: July – Shoey

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noun: the act of drinking an alcoholic beverage out of a shoe, especially to celebrate a win.

THE STORY BEHIND THE WORD OF THE MONTH

The shoey is an Australian phenomenon that shot to international fame in 2016, thanks to Australian racing driver Daniel Ricciardo. He came second in the German Grand Prix in August and on the winners’ podium performed a shoey for the crowd, filling his shoe with champagne and drinking it. The international press were amused and horrified in equal measure.

Ricciardo repeated the move on the podium after a second placing in Belgium, and again as the winner of the Malaysian Grand Prix. The shoey also attracted notoriety at the Malaysian Grand Prix with the arrest of the Budgie Nine—a group of Australian spectators who had been seen doing shoeys—for stripping down to speedos printed with the Malaysian flag.

The shoey has humble origins in Australia, and possibly began as a kind of party trick. It is described in a Tasmanian newspaper in 2014, in the first written evidence of its use:

Punk bands from across the country are converging on the spiritual home of the ‘shoey’—the act of using your dirty shoe as a beer mug—this weekend for the second annual All Tomorrow’s Shoeys festival. (Hobart Mercury, 24 April 2014)

It is clear from the name of the festival that the history of the shoey predates 2014 but so far earlier evidence remains elusive.

The shoey’s association with motorsport may have begun in 2015 with V8 drivers in Western Australia and the Northern Territory. It hit the international stage in July 2016 when performed by Australian motorcyclist Jack Miller to celebrate his Dutch MotoGP win. Daniel Ricciardo credits Miller as the inspiration for his own podium shoey. Now the shoey has global recognition as Ricciardo’s signature move on the prestigious Formula One circuit:

It was another ‘shoey’ day for Perth’s Daniel Ricciardo when the 27-year-old celebrated his second place in the Belgian Grand Prix by drinking champagne from his shoe. (Wanneroo Times, 30 August 2016)

The shoey is clearly having a moment, at least within motorsport circles, as this Gold Coast Bulletin item relating to the Gold Coast 600 car race suggests:

S is for shoey. Drinking booze from your own well-worn shoe. Apparently it’s the in-thing right now. It started with V8 Ute champ Ryal Harris, then Dave Reynolds, now it’s a global trend. You might see a few on the hill. (21 October 2016)

Shoey will be considered for inclusion in the next edition of the Australian National Dictionary. It was shortlisted for the Australian National Dictionary Centre’s 2016 Word of the Year.