The Comedy Roots of Throttlebottom

Hello

This week’s word, throttlebottom, is one of my Mystery Words this month. Check out #mysteryword on Bluesky and Facebook to collect them throughout January 2026. A few merit deeper exploration and I’m sharing those here on the blog.

So what is a throttlebottom? It’s an incompetent person in public office. I’m sure you can think of somebody to tag with this term. I think it needs a come-back tour.

As you’d guess, the word is compounded from throttle and bottom. Throttle, which I most associate with cars, is much older than the combustion engine. It came to English around 1400 as throtelen and meant to strangle somebody.

Throtelen came from Middle English throate which meant to kill something by cutting its throat. Two related words at the time would have been thropul (the trachea or windpipe) and throt-bolla (Adam’s apple, but literally a throat ball).

The idea of a mechanical throttle is related if you think about it. The throttle restricts the flow of steam or liquid through a pipe thanks to a valve and that use of the word dates to the 1870s.

All of those throttles pre-date our throttlebottom insult, but let’s take a look at bottom now and I’ll do my best to resist silly puns along the way.

Bottom arrived at botme in Middle English from botm in Old English and it was a word for ground or soil, basically the lowest level of anything. It is probably from a Proto-Germanic root word buthm which provides cousin words in Old Frisian, Old Norse, Dutch, and German.

From this start bottom seeped into the language in various terms and phrases such as getting to the bottom of something (late 1700s), a person’s posterior (late 1700s), bottoms up (1800s), bottom dollar (1800s) and the bottom of your heart is first recorded in the 1500s.

In this case compounding the words together to make throttlebottom doesn’t really make any sense – how can there be a particularly low throat or valve? However it does sound funny and that was all it took for George and Ira Gershwin to use it as a character name.

The composing brothers included Alexander Throttlebottom as a bumbling American Vice President character in their 1931 satirical musical “Of Thee I Sing” and he proved so popular that he made a comeback in “Let ‘Em Eat Cake” two years later. He was depicted as incompetent, and forgotten by his own government. After the musical was a hit, the name gained use for any useless person in public office. It’s one I’ve never heard used in Ireland, but perhaps it’s still a term in North America?

Until next time happy reading, writing, and wordfooling,

Grace (@Wordfoolery)

p.s. Want more Wordfoolery? Subscribe to the monthly newsletter “Wordfoolery Whispers”. Don’t forget to click on the confirmation email, which might hide in your spam folder.

The Greek Comedy Roots of Accismus

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Hello,

This week’s word, accismus, is rarely used in modern written English and hence is one of my Mystery Words this month. See #mysteryword on Bluesky, Twitter, and Facebook to collect them throughout January 2026. At a basic level accismus describes the urge to refuse something you really want. It comes from the Greek word akkismos (shyness or coyness), and entered English in the 1500s but of course, there’s more to the story than that.

The meaning of accismus has layers. Perhaps the best way to explain it is with an example. Picture two old friends having tea and cake together. There’s some left and one offers a slice to the other. “Oh no, I couldn’t possibly. I’m full,” says one. Now this simply isn’t true. She’s being polite, and possibly doesn’t want to look greedy. Her outward statement of refusal contradicts her inner true desire, making this a form of irony. In the study of rhetorics accismus is an ironic device, filled with feigned indifference.

Now in reality, at least with my friends, we’d say that once. Then the other friend would press, like the parish housekeeper Mrs Doyle in “Father Ted” by urging us to “ah go on”, and inevitably the entire cake would be scoffed. But perhaps this wasn’t the way it went with the ancient Greeks, as we’ll see in a moment.

An 1823 edition of the Encyclopaedia Britannica includes the advice that accismus may be considered as a virtue or a vice. I haven’t entirely decided, but it’s interesting to note that it’s related to the idea of sour grapes. Accismus is refusal before the fact, whereas sour grapes is the bitter reaction after failing to get what you truly desire.

How did accismus reach the English language? For that it took a hop via Latin, but its roots lie in Greek akkismos, and in the world of theatre to be precise. Akkismos comes from the name Akko. Akko was a female character in a comic play written by Amphis, an Athenian comic poet from about 400 B.C..

Akko in the play was a foolish old woman. As far as I could research, the text of the play is lost but some fragments remain in references in later texts. Akko, the central character, talked with her reflection in a mirror as if it were another person. She used a sponge instead of a hammer to hit a peg so clearly wasn’t an expert builder, and she dressed herself in a half-woven piece of cloth. Perhaps in a more modern age we’d see her as somebody suffering from cognitive decline but in Greece this character became a byword for any foolish and scatterbrained woman.

Later texts link Akko both to the idea of accismus, our word for the week, and also with idle occupations like talking to other women (gasp, what an awful waste of time!), or looking into a mirror. I’m thinking Amphis, or his fans, weren’t exactly feminists.

I think we may need to reclaim accismus in the honour of poor old Akko. Nobody should refuse something they really want in life if it’s offered to them. Next time, I suggest you take the last slice of cake. Somebody has to eat it, why not you?

Until next time happy reading, writing, and wordfooling,

Grace (@Wordfoolery)

p.s. Want more Wordfoolery? Subscribe to the monthly newsletter “Wordfoolery Whispers”. Don’t forget to click on the confirmation email, which might hide in your spam folder. There’s an issue out this Friday (16 January 2026), so sign up now to avoid missing out.

Wordfoolery’s Favourite Books of 2025

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Hello,

I love reading as much as I love unusual words. I have an annual tradition to look back at my reading (59 books during 2025) with help from my Goodreads account. Here are ten of my favourite books of the year. They’re not all recent releases, as books wait in my Towering To Be Read Pile and because I’m still working my way through the 501 Books to Read Before You Die List (my favourite from that this year was The Castle of Otranto by Horace Walpole, a gothic melodramatic romance). I’d recommend any of these books. If you order through the links provided, a tiny fee is paid towards supporting this blog.

If you prefer posts about the history of unusual words, normal service will resume next Monday. I’m also posting an unusual word a day (#MysteryWord hashtag to find them all) throughout January 2026 on my social media (twitter, facebook, bluesky) – just for fun because January can be a bit dismal sometimes.

These are in random order. I can’t rank books, I love them too much.

For Whom the Bell Tolls – Earnest Hemingway

Inspired by his own experience of the Spanish Civil War, this is a detailed and evocative account of a partisan attack on a bridge. Considering it covers three days in nearly 500 pages I expected the pace to be slow, but the elegant simple prose drew me along. Possibly my favourite book of 2025.

Scots Dictionary – Collins Gem

Short, clear, handy with plenty of usage examples and some etymology. A great addition to my reference shelf.

Seventy-Seven Clocks – Christopher Fowler

I adore this crime series. This time the quirky police detectives Bryant and May are in the 1970s tracking down who is killing off an upper class family one by one. Fun to meet the rest of the Peculiar Crimes Unit in their earlier lives too. Features a mechanical AI.

The Stonemason’s Tale – Ann Swinfen

Final book in this 6-book series (due to author’s death). This time our Oxford bookseller Nicholas puzzles out the whereabouts of a missing student and a trickster whose pranks have dire consequences. Brilliant medieval hist-fic.

The Story of English in 100 Words – David Crystal

A great introduction to English words, despite only covering 100, as he takes care to select words which are an example of particular types – legal word, culinary word, coined by the Bard, portmanteau word etc. All very well written and approachable.

Scarlet – Genevieve Cogman

First of a trilogy crossing the Scarlet Pimpernel with vampires during the French Revolution. It’s a heist/caper story and a total page-turner.

An Emotional Dictionary – Susie Dent

One of my favourites by Susie Dent. Enjoyed the scattering of Japanese and German words. Found myself sharing snippets with family. Excellent index.

Hunting the Sun – Jean Gill

A page-turning historic fiction tale of a Viking couple (warrior and wise woman) adventuring in the Mediterranean. I’ve loved all the books in the series so far and this one finds Skarfr and Hlif finding their way as foster parents as well as foreign guests at the royal court of Sicily in the 12th century. This can be read as standalone but rest of the series is worth a look too.

Full disclosure, Jean used my book “Words the Vikings Gave Us” in her research so this was a review copy, but honestly, it’s really good.

The Skeleton Key – Erin Kelly

When Frank Churcher created a bestselling picture book with a treasure hunt twist it sets up his career but also created decades of issues for his family and friends. The book follows his daughter Nell as she uncovers family secrets after a murder from the past threatens everybody she loves. Great depiction of foster parenting.

Treason’s Harbour – Patrick O’Brian

Treason’s Harbour by Patrick O’Brian – Another wonderful tale of the sea with my favourite captain and his doctor/spy friend. This time they are stuck ashore in Malta and the doctor is up to some tricks to catch the source of a naval intelligence leak.

And finally – the Wordfoolery Books, of course.

My five books inspired by this blog are out now in paperback and ebook (all the ways to get them are listed here). “Words Christmas Gave Us” explores festive words and customs worldwide, “Modern Words with Old Roots” (ebook only) delves into the astonishingly ancient history of 50 modern words from avatar to zarf. “Words the Vikings Gave Us” explores the influence of Old Norse and modern Scandinavia on English. “Words The Sea Gave Us” covers nautical words and phrases from ahoy to skyscraper. “How To Get Your Name In The Dictionary” records the lives of the people whose names became part of the English language including Guillotine, Casanova, and Fedora.

Right, that’s enough book chat. Next week I’ll be back with the history of unusual words. Wishing you happy reading in 2026.

Grace (@Wordfoolery)

p.s. this post contains affiliate links which make a small payment to the blog if you choose to purchase through them. #CommissionsEarned. Alternatively, you can use my digital tip jar to say thanks for this year’s words.

p.p.s. My fav books from 2024, 2023, 2022, 2021, 2020, 2019, and 2018 are also available.

The Pilgrimage Roots of a Horse’s Canter

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Hello,

This week’s word is one I pulled from my store of toponyms – words named after places – canter.

When a horse moves in a canter it maintains an easy gallop and that’s been with us since the 1700s. It was originally called the Canterbury pace (1670s), from the ambling gait of mounted pilgrims on their way to the shrine of St. Thomas à Becket at Canterbury Cathedral, where he was assassinated in 1170.

That, of course, led me to wonder how Canterbury got its name. In Old English it was Cantware-buruh which means a fortified town of the Kentish people. The Cant-ware were the people of Kent. The town had a Roman name too – Duroverno (walled town).

There had been papal plans to make London, the largest Anglo-Saxon city, the cathedral city for southern England but Kent was converted first thanks to a marriage between its ruler Ethelbert and a Christian princess from Frankia so his capital city was made cathedral city instead.

Later, the shrine of Thomas à Becket in that cathedral, was a favorite pilgrimage destination, hence the pilgrims and their cantering horses.

Next week the blog will be my annual book review of the year – all my favourite reads. Thereafter normal wordy service will resume.

Until next time happy reading, writing, and wordfooling,

Grace (@Wordfoolery)

p.s. Want more Wordfoolery? Subscribe to the monthly newsletter “Wordfoolery Whispers”. Don’t forget to click on the confirmation email, which might hide in your spam folder.

Border Disputes and the History of Chivvy

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Hello,

This week’s word is chivvy and it has a fascinating word history mired in the long-running disputes on the Scottish-English border. To chivvy somebody is to hurry them along. You might do it when getting small children ready to leave the house, for example, so how does that link to outright warfare?

For that you need to go back to the 1380s and a feud between the Percy’s of Northumberland in England versus the Douglas family of Scotland. This involved raids across the Cheviot Hills, known locally as the Chevy Hills. On the 5th of August 1388 the 2nd Earl of Douglas led a raid over the border near Durham and Newcastle. The 1st Earl of Northumberland retaliated by sending his two sons, Henry Hotspur and Ralph to seek revenge and the ensuing battle is known as the Battle of Otterburn. 2,000 died and the Scots won the day.

The battle became famous and was honoured in a few ballads including “The Ballad of Chevy Chase”. A hunting ground was called a chase. The ballad was hit and it pushed the word chevy into the English dictionary with the meaning to attacking, harrying, or goading somebody. In case you’re wondering, the actor and comedian Chevy Chase got his nickname (his first name is actually Cornelius) from an area in Maryland named after this ballad.

The final hop in the word’s story is that change from chevy to chivvy and that’s thanks to criminals in the 1600s who called a knife a chiv, so to chivvy was the slash somebody with a knife.

Thankfully nowadays, and since the early 1900s, we use chivvy with a much less violent meaning,

Until next time happy reading, writing, and wordfooling,

Grace (@Wordfoolery)

p.s. Want more Wordfoolery? Subscribe to the monthly newsletter “Wordfoolery Whispers”. Don’t forget to click on the confirmation email, which might hide in your spam folder.

Happy Christmas 2025 from Wordfoolery to all my readers!

The Scary History of Bugbears

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Bugbear isn’t a word I use, but you do hear it, usually in a sentence about somebody’s biggest bugbear (clearly they don’t come in small sizes). It has two definitions in the dictionary 1) cause of obsessive anxiety or irritation and 2) [archaic] an imaginary being used to scare children, because it wants to devour them.

The second meaning was one I had not encountered before, although I do recall plenty of parents using such creatures to scare good behaviour into their children when I was rearing little ones of my own. I never liked the idea. If you want to have children petrified of monsters under the bed, bogeymen, and robins telling their mischief to Santa then go right ahead, but it always seemed mad to me.

Also, if a bugbear was such a creature, then what exactly was it? A bear-shaped insect? Creepy.

Apparently the term entered the English dictionary in the late 1500s. They were listed with hobgoblins and hell-hounds in a description of a play. Yes, the bugbear was bear-shaped. It was devised to be a demon for children to dread. The bug part came from bugge in Middle English, which in the late 1300s was a term for a scarecrow or something frightening. The same root probably gives us the American English term for an insect.

By the late 1700s bugbears were sources of needless fear and today they are more likely to be our pet hates, rather than anything more drastic. The French equivalent term was bête noire (black beast), which has also slipped into our language.

Until next time happy reading, writing, and wordfooling,

Grace (@Wordfoolery)

p.s. Want more Wordfoolery? Subscribe to the monthly newsletter “Wordfoolery Whispers”. Don’t forget to click on the confirmation email, which might hide in your spam folder. There’s an issue out this Friday (19 December 2025), so sign up now to avoid missing out on more wordy fun.

Guest Posting at History The Interesting Bits

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Hello,

This week’s word is gingerbread as Wordfoolery has been off guest-posting on Sharon Bennett Connolly‘s wonderful “History .. The Interesting Bits” blog. Sharon is an author of fascinating history books with a particular focus on the often over-looked women in history. She was kind enough to host me when when I was promoting “Words the Vikings Gave Us” and now again for “Words Christmas Gave Us”. You’ll find all the ways to get my books here.

This time I explored the extremely long history of gingerbread (with help from ancient Greeks and the Brothers Grimm) as well as the hidden meanings behind the lyrics of “The Twelve Days of Christmas” carol, one of my favourite festive songs.

Don’t forget that if you enjoy the stories behind Christmas words, I’m sharing one per day on my social media channels up to New Year’s Eve – on twitter, facebook, and bluesky. Today’s is why the Christmas season starts on the 8th of December in Ireland (the Feast of the Immaculate Conception).

I hope you enjoy reading it.

Until next time happy reading, writing, and wordfooling,

Grace (@Wordfoolery)

p.s. Want more Wordfoolery? Subscribe to the monthly newsletter “Wordfoolery Whispers”. Don’t forget to click on the confirmation email, which might hide in your spam folder.

Christmas at Wordfoolery HQ

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Hello,

Unlike my usual Monday word history posts, this week’s blog is a festive warning. I have, mostly, held my whist (stayed quiet) on the topic of Christmas words all year long because many readers dislike hearing anything about Christmas until we’re in December, but guess what? Yes, it’s now December, we’re in Advent, and I’ve written an entire book on the subject “Words Christmas Gave Us” and I would love to share the amazing etymology and history from this special time of year with you all.

It’s Christmas crate time at Wordfoolery HQ – let the Christmas Words begin!

So, if you’re a horrendous Grinch (yes, he’s in the book, hilarious origin story) and don’t want to hear about Christmas, you’re going to have to avoid this blog and all my social media until the New Year (yes, that’s in the book too, great variety of ways to celebrate worldwide). I will be posting a word origin daily on my socials, and one each Monday here on the blog. Consider this your warning.

This week I’ll be looking at Advent, gift, wreath, merry, Krampus, Santa, and the Day of the Little Candles, in case you’re curious. You’ll find them on my facebook, bluesky, twitter, and possibly on instagram. I’ll tag them with #ChristmasWordfoolery so you can find them all.

Today’s word is Advent and I covered it here on the blog last year. It dates back 1700 years and its duration has changed massively over the centuries, somewhat to my surprise.

For a little extra Christmas gift on the first day of December, my guest post on the History The Interesting Bits blog is now available to read. I explored the history of gingerbread and the true meanings of the lyrics of “The Twelve Days of Christmas”. I hope you enjoy it!

Also, if you’re interested in a signed copy of any of my books – the details are here. However time is running very short for it to arrive in time for Christmas.

Until next time happy reading, writing, and wordfooling,

Grace (@Wordfoolery)

p.s. Want more Wordfoolery? Subscribe to the monthly newsletter “Wordfoolery Whispers”. Don’t forget to click on the confirmation email, which might hide in your spam folder.

The Edible History of the Word Bribe

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Hello,

This week’s word comes with thanks to Samuel Johnson’s famous dictionary of the English language. He includes several intriguing word histories along with his definitions and I couldn’t resist following up on what he says about the word bribe.

He defines it as “a reward given to pervert the judgement, or corrupt the conduct.” That definition hasn’t changed since 1755. He also gives the etymology and says it comes from French “originally signifies a piece of bread, and is applied to any piece taken from the rest; it is therefore likely, that a bribe originally signified, among us, a share of any thing unjustly got.”

Bribe is now used as both a verb and a noun and both arrived into English in the 1300s. Unfortunately I don’t have any photos of my own bread-making moments so you’ll have to make do with this delicious bread from Milan, which I promise was not given to me as a bribe.

Some more research tells me that yes, bribe came to English from Old French where bribe was a gift, or a hunk of bread given to beggars. Old French also had the word bribeor (beggar) thanks to the verb briber (to beg). Spanish and Italian have cousin words briba (vagrancy) and birbone (vagrant). There is some debate about the origin of the word before that point with suggestions being made about breva in Breton and briwo (to break) in Welsh which imply a Celtic source but that’s far from certain.

While the importance of bread in daily life makes the begging and sharing of bread logical to me, I’m less sure about bribing somebody with a loaf. Having said that, freshly baked bread is a very tempting thing. Perhaps I could be bribed with bread.

Also this week – I had a really fun chat with Art on the Cozy Christmas podcast recently about my book “Words Christmas Gave Us” (find all the ways to get my books here) and it’s available now for listeners.

Until next time happy reading, writing, and wordfooling,

Grace (@Wordfoolery)

p.s. Want more Wordfoolery? Subscribe to the monthly newsletter “Wordfoolery Whispers”. Don’t forget to click on the confirmation email, which might hide in your spam folder.

The Fiery History of Lunting

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Hello,

This week’s word is lunting, with thanks to a writing friend Maera Black, who suggested it to me years ago as an interesting obscure word. It made it to my list but never made it to the blog, until now.

Lunting means to relax walking while smoking a pipe. I don’t smoke, but I did a little fake lunting when dressed as Sherlock a few years ago and I can promise you, it is relaxing.

According to the Oxford English Dictionary the first use of lunting was in 1786 in the writing of Robbie Burns, the Scottish poet. That sent me to my Scots Dictionary but sadly lunting wasn’t listed there. However the online Scottish National Dictionary has multiple listings including one dating to the early 1800s for a lunt being a match or other flammable material used to light your pipe or fire.

The word comes from lont in Dutch which was a match or a fuse. It has a cousin word in Middle Low German – lunte – with the same meaning. So this word is one the Dutch gave us.

We don’t see too many gentlemen, or ladies, lunting these days, but the idea of an excuse to wander off for a stroll alone with your thoughts is appealing all the same. Perhaps we could lunt with a good book instead?

Until next time happy reading, writing, lunting, and wordfooling,

Grace (@Wordfoolery)

p.s. Want more Wordfoolery? Subscribe to the monthly newsletter “Wordfoolery Whispers”. Don’t forget to click on the confirmation email, which might hide in your spam folder.