In which “Fun Festive Gift Suggestions” are Preemptively Vetoed

It is, as they say, coming on Christmas. You can tell, because all the catalogues are gleefully appealing to the altruism of every buyer and sneakily suggesting that nothing would be so thoughtful or appreciated as a nose-hair trimmer, or a loaf of wholegrain bread, or a bracelet with “Mum” engraved on it, by the simple expedient of using bows in all the catalogue photos. This season brings with it a particularly interesting phenomenon: the heyday of the sort of item which no-one could ever conceivably want themselves, but which, we are told, would be a font of endless joy to our nearest and dearest.

You can generally spot these things by the descriptor appended to the shiny image: “hours of fun” is a red flag, for instance, as is a declaration that “[these people] and [these other people] alike will enjoy this [thingy]”. The people who fall victim to these most severely seem to be the people who study, or unwisely display an interest in, any slightly obscure area. I don’t know who else this applies to, but I assure you, gentle reader, that Latinists have it hard.

You can tell these particular gems from the fact that the blurbs are reviews are always packed full of as many Latin words, parenthetically translated, as literarily possible. Every year, it seems, someone comes out with a book of ‘totally cool Latin phrases! Amaze your friends, and insult them without their knowledge! Cool, huh?’ etc. Maybe, maybe these books are a source of endless fun to, I don’t know, unusually precocious 8 year olds with an age-appropriate sense of humour, but I really don’t see, otherwise, to whom they could appeal. Why would I want to insult my friends? Especially without-their-knowledge,-but-to-their-faces? My friends are a smart bunch. They’re essentially going to be on to me if I shout “stultus es!” at them, in a context of their hypothetical stupidity. Even if they miss the exact import, they’re going to notice that I’m talking in another language, one which I know that they don’t know, and which I’m using to deliberately exclude them from understanding. Not to put too fine a point on it, that’s about as rude as telling someone they’re stupid anyway. As I recall, it’s called structural vocal ostracism, or something, and it’s awfully bad for people.

In short, the ability to insult people in other languages is not something I ever need. And even if I did, I have to background knowledge to do it myself. And it would be more fun to use obscure English anyway. These sorts of things seem utterly pointless, but I always seem to end up with them.

Essentially, my point here is that whilst I appreciate the thought, when you see books amusingly titled Ad Nauseam or similar, maybe keep looking. (Although if you’ve given me one in the past, I did appreciate it, honest, it’s just that the one you gave me entirely fills that niche, and I don’t need any more.) If you really feel an overwhelming urge to spend that money on me in a bookshop, a voucher would be fine. Or a book which is actually good.

Similar, though less infuriating, are books which are just collections of cool words from the dictionary. I think this sort of book would be more interesting and cool to have about, but it does sort of negate that thrill-of-the-chase you get from flicking through the dictionary yourself. Also, any word so obscure as to be only listed in the fully extended OED tends to make people want the kick you in the head for using such self-indulgent vocabulary, in my experience. Books on grammar are likewise not something most people are going to need more than one of.

But! This reminds me! A great triumph has occurred, bringing joy to the hearts of pedants all over Sydney. That hairdresser with window-writing a foot tall on George St, next to the bus stop has removed the offensive apostrophes from their “STREAK’S TINT’S” sign! Verily, there is hope for humanity!

{Lastly, and irrelevantly, there is a patient in our waiting room, again, taking notes of the things she presumably wants done from the Cosmetic Surgery magazine which some cynical Plastics Dude has put in our waiting room. Don’t do it, lady! You look lovely as it is.}