Insult: an expression, statement or behaviour which is considered degrading.
Time was when women possessed devastating tongues.
In days of old, a put-down wasn't easily got up from (her people in trade would wipe out the ambitions of the boldest parvenue), but these days what passes for an insult is less a verbal slap in the face, more a poke in the eye with a wet bus ticket.
Ideally, a snub delivers such a subtle thrust, the recipient doesn't realise they've been cut until they get home and their head falls off.
A brilliant slur shouldn't require asterisks to publish, or contain a mere four letters.
I've been called a lot of things in my time: Mum, Scooter, Hey Lady, Darling and the Defendant.
An attempted ice-pick to my heart, I was once called "plain", by a woman, of course.
To men, "plain" is a potato chip flavour or something to drive across in a wagon train.
In the garlic breath of insults made directly to my face, I falter when it comes to the instant witty riposte.
Synapses fuse, and replies darting with all the thrust and parry of Zorro's sword come to me long after the fact.
"You're brave.
"Wearing that dress with your figure," says a diamond-backed maven disdainfully.
Months later, the perfect comeback clangs like an old penny dropped into the tin can of the subconscious.
Usually in the middle of the night.
Zing, crackle, snap, the popping of the brain's rice bubbles, alas, too late.
It is not the slightest bit redeeming, but I do have a tremendous reputation for blanking people on the street because I'm too vain to wear my glasses.
"I saw Lisa in town and she completely ignored me," people complain to the economist.
"She's as blind as a bat," he explains.
It's not done on purpose, so it hardly counts as devastating.
My mother always says, "If you can't say something witheringly sarcastic, don't say anything at all."
(Christmas dinners can be quite draining).
Perhaps I could purchase abusive materials in an attempt to keep recession-hit Dunedin stationery merchants afloat? There must be an entire greeting card industry based on insults.
No.
At the stationers the most insulting card I could find was pink and glittery and read "Now you're over the hill . . ."
Imagine the fortune to be made by some budding entrepreneur: "Sorry to hear you're knocked up to that loser"; or "Congratulations on being accepted for university despite being innumerate".
Below is a handy list.
You may want to keep it near the phone to prevent writhing over lost opportunities.
Damning with Faint Praise: You've always been the sensible one.
Straight-out Fakery: You were wonderful.
I loved it.
Mwah.
The Classic Cow: She could age herself 20 years just by telling the truth.
The Shakespearean: Thou gorbellied fool-born vassal.
Thou reeky dread-bolted pigeon egg. (Unintelligible for the most part, but no less effective.) Insults to patriotism: Kaiser Wilhelm on England: unmitigated noodles. (What? Must have been the syphilis talking.)Sticks and stones may break my bones but now words will never fail me thanks to a great resource for any offence offensive, In a Word (New Holland RRP $34.99) by Mark Broatch.
In a Word is designed for those times when the right word fails you and a mild retardation sets in.
It is also an excellent compendium of insults.
For example, is your boss/ex/bus driver a vile, incompetent, Napoleonic plebe? Perhaps you would like to call him (in your head, of course) a bloated, flaccid, verbose imbecile, a rummy louche or a mordant, churlish milquetoast . . . the possibilities are endless.
"You are drunk, Mr Churchill," said an affronted lady to the prime minister. "And you, Madam, are ugly," he replied, "but in the morning I shall be sober."
THE diary
Tuesday, October 20: New Zealand book month "Glory Days - gumboots to platforms", Dunedin Public Library.
Wednesday, October 21: I love the islands, Samoa benefit concert, an all star line-up for tsunami relief, Glenroy.
Thursday, October 22: Richard Wolfe, author talk on tiki tour, Port Chalmers library.
Friday, October 23: Greg Johnson and Boh Runga rattle stained glass windows on the acoustic church tour.
Saturday, October 24: The Dunedin 350 spring food festival.
Farmers Market, Dunedin railway station - climate change awareness made delicious.
Saturday, November 7: Carl Barron live, Regent Theatre.
