New words

Mel Smith and Griff Rhys Jones’s list of new words was augmented by a few that were repurposed by my flatmates and me — you can probably guess which. We found, as Mel and Griff had done, that British place names provided the perfect inspiration for additions to our language. But there’s no reason why the list shouldn’t be expanded to include New Zealand places; or, indeed, replaced entirely. If you’d like to make any alternative or brand-new suggestions — bearing in mind that these were written before the internet age — leave a comment and, who knows, perhaps we’ll compile an NZBC Dictionary of Useful Words and Phrases.

Abergevenny — Applies predominantly to old-age pensioners, who dodge about in front of you on the street with shopping trolleys, thereby endangering your life, as in ‘to Abergevenny’.

Blerup — Publishing and printing term. All books, but especially reference books and telephone directories, are designed to contain at least one blerup. When you flick through the book looking for a page number or a key word, as soon as you get near the page you want, your thumb jumps and a great fat wad of pages jumps across, making you start your search again. This wad is correctly called a ‘blerup’.

Bolsover — One of those brown plastic trays with bumps on, placed upside down in boxes of chocolates to make you think you’re getting two layers.

Camberchondria — Phobia. The illusion you get from the top of a double-decker bus that it is far too big for the road and in danger of ploughing into a row of parked cars below.

Chipping Norton — the half-hearted removal of nortons (cf. norton) from the corner of the eye while suffering from Stow-on-the-Wold (cf. Stow-on-the-Wold).

Dumbles — An embarrassing feeling in the innards; an attack of the dumbles is most commonly brought on when having said lengthy goodbyes to a large group of people in a room when you have to steal yourself to going back in and saying hello to all of them again because you’ve forgotten your jacket.

Ely — The first, tiniest inkling that something has gone terribly wrong.

Epsom — An entry in a diary (such as a date or a set of initials) or a name and address in your address book, which you haven’t the faintest explanation for.

Fot — The sound made by breaking the seal on a new jar of coffee.

Furfle — The impossible business of trying to keep your farts down to a reasonable level of decibels when in a lavatory in easy listening distance of lots of other people.

Gravesend — The foot of the page, where the ink goes all smudgy.

Langtoft — Flakes of dead skin left adhering to a plaster cast when it’s removed after several months.

Ludlow — A wad of newspaper, folded table-napkin or lump of cardboard put under a wobbly table or chair to make it stand up straight. It is not, perhaps, widely known that air-ace Sir Douglas Bader used to get about on an enormous pair of ludlows before he had his artificial legs fitted.

Lulworth — Measure of conversation. A lulworth defines the length, loudness and embarrassment of a statement you make when everyone else in the room unaccountably stops talking at the same moment.

Milton Keynes — triangular patch at the front of the toilet bowl, stained yellow and foul smelling, due to ineffective and non-thorough flushing. Accelerated by poor cleaning regime in a house or flat full of male slobs.

Motspur — The fourth wheel of a supermarket trolley which looks identical to the other three but renders the trolley completely uncontrollable.

Norton — hardened clump of greenish mucous found in the corner of the eye in the mornings.

Oxenhope — the absolutely unfounded absurd optimism of one who claims everything will turn out for the best.

Papworth — Subtitled French or Italian movie with no plot, which you can watch while listening to your favourite music.

Pimlico — Small, odd-shaped piece of plastic or curious metal component found in the bottom of kitchen rummage-drawer when spring-cleaning or looking for Sellotape.

Screggan — Banking term. The crossed-out bit caused by people putting the wrong year on their cheques all through January.

Scudder — To walk up or downstairs and jar your leg under the misapprehension that there is one more step to go.

Shoeburyness — The slightly uneasy feeling experienced when sitting on a seat on a bus or a train, still warm from someone else’s bottom.

Stow-on-the-Wold — state of fragility, caused by a weekend of abnormally heavy drinking: as in, “Oh gawd, I’ve got Stow-on-the-Wold!”

Sturry — A token run. Pedestrians who have chosen to cross a road immediately in front of an approaching vehicle generally break into a sturry: This gives the impression of hurrying without having any practical effect on their speed whatsoever. Verb: To sturry. Also: ‘Sturrier’, a person who sturries.

Theydon Bois — expression of satisfaction vented after the successful theft and surreptitious guzzling of someone else’s cheese from the refrigerator.