"Slanguage" Is War's Gifts To Unofficial English

Taranaki Daily News, 24 August 1942, Page 2

"Slanguage" Is War's Gifts To Unofficial

English

IT is a strange war that doesn't do things to languages, and one of the interesting by-products of World War II. is the rich contribution it has already made to unofficial English. New, dynainic situations have arlsen, calling for new words, and the young people of England have made their own, many of them se richly expressive that they will certainiy achieve the distinction of inclusion m some future Oxford Dictionary of the English Language. A nation that once rried, with more awkwardness than skiil, to stud its language with American slang is to-day ^the fountainhead of a new "slanguage." No Longer a Rookie. In the World War a rookie is no longer a rookie; he is an "erk." Nothing is ever foad; it is "ropey." And a "ropey job" is likely as not to be a blonde who proved uncollaborative; Instead of being flhe-and-dandy, the good things in the British forces are "wizard." Anything that turns out badly, whether it 'be the execution of a manoeuvre or a rationed meal, is "a bad show," or just "a black.' And a soldier is never fed up to the teeth; he is "browned off ' or brassed off." When army things are under control they are "buttoned up,'' otherwise they may be "cheesed." Navy slanguage is particularly rich, and its lower-deck smack is especially effective when it comes from the lips of the pert young Wrens, as the blue-uni-formed girls of the Women s Royal Naval Service are called. When a Y/ren says "I mustn't be adrift too late, or else the jaunty will put me in the rattle and the bloke will give me a bottle," she means, "I must return from leave on time or the master-at-arms will bring me before the commanding officer for a lecture." Anything that is good in the navy is "scran," and if it's bad it's "rum." When Jenny the Wren is fed up with the world she is "chokker," and when she grumbles she's guilty of "dripping." Sleeping is "zizzing," whether it's on the job or in the hammock. To the Wren, her sailor boy friend is a "killick," or if he is a soldier he's a "pongo." "Crushers" are the rnale or female pOtty officecs who deal with viol-

ators of discipline, and a sweetheart or companion in the navy is an "oppo. When a Wren, killick or battleship is dressed up, she, he or it is "tiddley, and when a sailor goes on leave he goes ' up the line." The Royal Air Force had to build its slanguage from scratch because it had no substantial tradition to fall hack on. But it has done a masterly job, and the words it. has added to unofficial English are rich, ribald and racy. For their equipment, Eritain's fliers have picturesque names. A parachute is not a parachute, but a "brolly," the rear gunner's turret is the "dust bin, a Coastal Command plane is a "kipper kite," the bomb-dropping mechanism is "Mickey Mouse," and the automatic pilot is "George." A fighter pilot climbs into the "pulpit" of his plane and pulls the "green-house" — cockpit cover— over 'him. Thea he's off to hunt "a solid

lump of blitz"— enemy formation. Waiting in the air for a "Junkerschmitt" to appear, he "snakes about or plays pussy" in the clouds. Then he screams downhill" and sends the German into the "drink" with a "quickie." Each month a few outstanding pilots polish their buttons and go to Buckingham Palace to "collect a gong." No flier spares his contempt for the "penguins," the non-flying administrative officers in the R.A.F. Fliers take "Views." Everything is a "type" in the R.A.F., and all fliers take "views." If a girl has "good lines" she may be a "pukk;. type," but a Heinkel pilot who shoots too soon or runs for home is definitely a "poor type," or j'ust a "pleep." A pilot takes an "outside view" of Berlin when the air over the Nazi capital is full of "flak" and "crickets"— German night fighters— but when a v/eelc end with no operations and a Saturday-night party has been "laid on," the view is definitely "wizard."