Not just semantics

There are expressions which, when used in different – perhaps less ‘mainstream’ walks of life – that take on different shades of understanding.

It is possible – even common – that some of these expressions may have originated in these less ‘mainstream’ places.

A number of examples spring to mind:
* ‘mind your Ps and Qs’ being one, it originated in medieval Alehouses where ‘mind your pints and quarts’ was a reference to underselling quantities when The Revenue came to check the landlord was fulfilling his duty correctly.

* ‘getting a good spanking’ being another, it referred to a common kind of injury that a ‘spanker monkey’ or, to give the job of work the full and correct title ‘spinnaker monkey’ (being a trainee seaman on a British Man-o’-War) would receive if the spanker (spinnaker sail) was hoisted carelessly.

However on the other side of the fence there are occasionally words and phrases used incorrectly by people who fail to realise the full detail of what they’re trying to communicate.

For example the phrase ‘bolted off with me’ is often – and incorrectly – used to describe what happens when a horse fails to respond to ‘braking’ signals from the rider.

The correct phrase to describe this event is ‘ran through the bridle’ – as in ‘the horse ran through the bridle’ – i.e. took on a mind of its own and refused to listen to the rider.

But in the less polite (shall we say… earthier?) equestrian circles a compound verb is also – correctly – used.

It is: ‘pissed off’.

For example: That fucking horse pissed off with me this afternoon. We were coming up the big hill when he slipped from racing canter in to his “full-on, get your tits out for the lads fucking gallop”.

Such a tale is usually supplemented with a phrase similar to: No kidding, I was shitting fucking bricks as big as loaves. We tanked right across the fields at a hundred fucking miles an hour. I thought I was going to fucking die! We came at the hedge at the end of the field so fucking quickly I didn’t know whether to sit in, put my legs on and ask him to jump it (and lose my testicles in the jumping action because I was sitting on a fucking dressage saddle not a fucking jumping one!), or put both hands on one rein and try and haul him around in a circle to make the mad bastard stop.

Of course the use of the noun ‘fucking’ is optional, but it does add colour and depth.

This afternoon Vin ‘pissed off’ with me.

As I am still in possession of my testicles, you might correctly surmise that hauling him around in a two-handed circle worked.

Which it did.

Eventually.
🙂

B.