The world’s words of the year pass judgement on a dark, surreal 2016


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Philip Seargeant, The Open University

Every December, lexicographers around the world choose their “words of the year”, and this year, perhaps more than ever, the stories these tell provide a fascinating insight into how we’ve experienced the drama and trauma of the last 12 months.

There was much potential in 2016. It was 500 years ago that Thomas More wrote his Utopia, and January saw the launch of a year’s celebrations under the slogan “A Year of Imagination and Possibility” – but as 2017 looms, this slogan rings hollow. Instead of utopian dreams, we’ve had a year of “post-truth” and “paranoia”, of “refugee” crises, “xenophobia” and a close shave with “fascism”.

Earlier in the year, a campaign was launched to have “Essex Girl” removed from the Oxford English Dictionary (OED). Those behind the campaign were upset at the derogatory definition – a young woman “characterised as unintelligent, promiscuous, and materialistic” – so wanted it to be expunged from the official record of the language.

The OED turned down the request, a spokeswoman explaining that since the OED is a historical dictionary, nothing is ever removed; its purpose, she said, is to describe the language as people use it, and to stand as a catalogue of the trends and preoccupations of the time.

The words of the year tradition began with the German Wort des Jahres in the 1970s. It has since spread to other languages, and become increasingly popular the world over. Those in charge of the choices are getting more innovative: in 2015, for the first time, Oxford Dictionaries chose a pictograph as their “word”: the emoji for “Face with Tears of Joy”.

In 2016, however, the verbal was very much back in fashion. The results speak volumes.

Dark days

In English, there are a range of competing words, with all the major dictionaries making their own choices. Having heralded a post-language era last year, Oxford Dictionaries decided on “post-truth” this time, defining it as the situation when “objective facts are less influential in shaping public opinion than appeals to emotion and personal belief”. In a year of evidence-light Brexit promises and Donald Trump’s persistent lies and obfuscations, this has a definite resonance. In the same dystopian vein, the Cambridge Dictionary chose “paranoid”, while Dictionary.com went for “xenophobia”.

Merriam-Webster valiantly tried to turn back the tide of pessimism. When “fascism” looked set to win its online poll, it tweeted its readers imploring them to get behind something – anything – else. The plea apparently worked, and in the end “surreal” won the day. Apt enough for a year in which events time and again almost defied belief.

The referendum that spawned a thousand words.
EPA/Andy Rain

Collins, meanwhile, chose “Brexit”, a term which its spokesperson suggested has become as flexible and influential in political discourse as “Watergate”.

Just as the latter spawned hundreds of portmanteau words whenever a political scandal broke, so Brexit begat “Bremain”, “Bremorse” and “Brexperts” – and will likely be adapted for other upcoming political rifts for many years to come. It nearly won out in Australia in fact, where “Ausexit” (severing ties with the British monarchy or the United Nations) was on the shortlist. Instead, the Australian National Dictionary went for “democracy sausage” – the tradition of eating a barbecued sausage on election day.

Around the world, a similar pattern of politics and apprehension emerges. In France, the mot de l’année was réfugiés (refugees); and in Germany postfaktisch, meaning much the same as “post-truth”. Swiss German speakers, meanwhile, went for Filterblase (filter bubble), the idea that social media is creating increasingly polarised political communities.

Switzerland’s Deaf Association, meanwhile, chose a Sign of the Year for the first time. Its choice was “Trump”, consisting of a gesture made by placing an open palm on the top of the head, mimicking the president-elect’s extravagant hairstyle.

2016’s golden boy, as far as Japan’s concerned.
Albert H. Teich

Trump’s hair also featured in Japan’s choice for this year. Rather than a word, Japan chooses a kanji (Chinese character); 2016’s choice is “金” (gold). This represented a number of different topical issues: Japan’s haul of medals at the Rio Olympics, fluctuating interest rates, the gold shirt worn by singer and YouTube sensation Piko Taro, and, inevitably, the colour of Trump’s hair.

And then there’s Austria, whose word is 51 letters long: Bundespräsidentenstichwahlwiederholungsverschiebung. It means “the repeated postponement of the runoff vote for Federal President”. Referring to the seven months of votes, legal challenges and delays over the country’s presidential election, this again references an event that flirted with extreme nationalism and exposed the convoluted nature of democracy. As a new coinage, it also illustrates language’s endless ability to creatively grapple with unfolding events.

Which brings us, finally, to “unpresidented”, a neologism Donald Trump inadvertently created when trying to spell “unprecedented” in a tweet attacking the Chinese. At the moment, it’s a word in search of a meaning, but the possibilities it suggests seem to speak perfectly to the history of the present moment. And depending on what competitors 2017 throws up, it could well emerge as a future candidate.

The Conversation

Philip Seargeant, Senior Lecturer in Applied Linguistics, The Open University

This article was originally published on The Conversation. Read the original article.

The shelf-life of slang – what will happen to those ‘democracy sausages’?


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Kate Burridge, Monash University

Every year around this time, dictionaries across the English-speaking world announce their “Word of the Year”. These are expressions (some newly minted and some golden oldies too) that for some reason have shot into prominence during the year.

Earlier this month The Australian National Dictionary Centre declared its winner “democracy sausage” – the barbecued snag that on election day makes compulsory voting so much easier to swallow.

Dictionaries make their selections in different ways, but usually it involves a combination of suggestions from the public and the editorial team (who have been meticulously tracking these words throughout the year). The Macquarie Dictionary has two selections – the Committee’s Choice made by the Word of the Year Committee, and the People’s Choice made by the public (so make sure you have your say on January 24 for the People’s Choice winner 2016).

It’s probably not surprising that these words of note draw overwhelmingly from slang language, or “slanguage” – a fall-out of the increasing colloquialisation of English usage worldwide. In Australia this love affair with the vernacular goes back to the earliest settlements of English speakers.

And now there’s the internet, especially social networking – a particularly fertile breeding ground for slang.

People enjoy playing with language, and when communicating electronically they have free rein. “Twitterholic”, “twaddiction”, “celebritweet/twit”, “twitterati” are just some of the “tweologisms” that Twitter has spawned of late. And with a reported average of 500 million tweets each day, Twitter has considerable capacity not only to create new expressions, but to spread them (as do Facebook, Instagram and other social networking platforms).

But what happens when slang terms like these make it into the dictionary? Early dictionaries give us a clue, particularly the entries that are stamped unfit for general use. Branded entries were certainly plentiful in Samuel Johnson’s 18th-century work, and many are now wholly respectable: abominably “a word of low or familiar language”, nowadays “barbarous usage”, fun “a low cant word” (what would Johnson have thought of very fun and funner?).

Since the point of slang is to mark an in-group, to amuse and perhaps even to shock outsiders with novelty, most slang expressions are short-lived. Those that survive become part of the mainstream and mundane. Quite simply, time drains them of their vibrancy and energy. J.M. Wattie put it more poetically back in 1930:

Slang terms are the mayflies of language; by the time they get themselves recorded in a dictionary, they are already museum specimens.

But, then again, expressions occasionally do sneak through the net. Not only do they survive, they stay slangy – and sometimes over centuries. Judge for yourselves. Here are some entries from A New and Comprehensive Vocabulary of the Flash Language. Written by British convict James Hardy Vaux in 1812, this is the first dictionary compiled in Australia.

croak “to die”

grub “food”

kid “deceive”

mug “face”

nuts on “to have a strong inclination towards something or someone”

on the sly “secretly”

racket “particular kind of fraud”

snitch “to betray”

stink “an uproar”

spin a yarn “tell a tale of great adventure”

These were originally terms of flash – or, as Vaux put it, “the cant language used by the family”. In other words, they belonged to underworld slang. The term slang itself meant something similar at this time; it broadened to highly colloquial language in the 1800s.

Vaux went on to point out that “to speak good flash is to be well versed in cant terms” — and, having been transported to New South Wales on three separate occasions during his “checkered and eventful life” (his words), Vaux himself was clearly well versed in the world of villainy and cant.

True, the majority of the slang terms here have dropped by the wayside (barnacles “spectacles”; lush “to drink”), and the handful that survives are now quite standard (grab “to seize”; dollop “large quantity”). But there are a few that have not only lasted, they’ve remained remarkably contemporary-sounding – some still even a little “disgraceful” (as Vaux described them).

The shelf-life of slang is a bit of mystery. Certainly some areas fray faster than others. Vaux’s prime, plummy and rum (meaning “excellent”) have well and truly bitten the dust. Cool might have made a comeback (also from the 1800s), but intensifiers generally wear out.

Far out and ace have been replaced by awesome, and there are plenty of new “awesome” words lurking in the wings. Some of these are already appearing on lists for “Most Irritating Word of the Year” – it’s almost as if their success does them in. Amazeballs, awesomesauce and phat are among the walking dead.

But as long as sausage sizzles continue to support Australian voters on election day, democracy sausages will have a place – and if adopted elsewhere, might even entice the politically uninterested into polling booths.

The Conversation

Kate Burridge, Professor of Linguistics, Monash University

This article was originally published on The Conversation. Read the original article.

Are some kids really smarter just because they know more words?


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Molly McManus, University of Texas at Austin

Why do rich kids end up doing better than poor kids in school? Of late, one common explanation for this has been the “word gap,” or the idea that poor children are exposed to significantly fewer words by age three than their wealthier peers.

As a former elementary school teacher and now educational psychologist, I understand the appeal of the “word gap” argument. But, focusing on the “word gap” as an explanation for the achievement gap between poor students and wealthier students is both distracting and potentially harmful. Such an explanation could allow educators at all levels to both deny and widen this real gap that exists between the rich and the poor kids.

What is the ‘word gap’?

A study conducted over 30 years ago first came up with findings that showed there was a “word gap” between children from low-income homes and children from economically advantaged ones.

For this study, researchers entered the homes of 42 families over a span of four years to assess daily language exchanges between parents and their young children. The researchers found that, by age three, children with high-income families were exposed to 30 million more words than children with families on welfare.

The study was subsequently critiqued for its flawed research methodology as well as biased assumptions about families of color and families coping with financial crisis.

However, in the last three years the idea of a “word gap” between advantaged and disadvantaged kids has gained extraordinary public exposure.

References to the word gap can now be seen almost weekly in widely circulated publications. Headlines like “Poor Kids and the ‘Word Gap’,” “How do you make a baby smart?,” “Mind the Word Gap,” “The famous ‘word gap’ doesn’t hurt only the young. It affects many educators, too.” and “The Early Catastrophe: The 30 Million Word Gap by Age 3” are now quite common.

The attention being paid to ‘word gap’ is harmful.
Jeff Moore, CC BY-NC-ND

From a place of relative obscurity, the study has now become the “evidence-based” foundation for countless initiatives and programs working to improve the academic achievement of poor children.

I agree that the idea is tempting to embrace, especially when it has received support from high-profile organizations like the Clinton Foundation’s Too Small to Fail, The University of Chicago, School of Medicine’s Thirty Million Words® Initiative and even The White House. But the attention being paid to “word gap” is harmful.

Why is the ‘word gap’ harmful?

Students living in poverty currently comprise more than one-half of the public school population. Meanwhile, the test score gap between the most disadvantaged children (those in the bottom 10% of the income distribution) and children from wealthy families (those in the top 10%) has expanded by 30% to 40% over the last three decades.

Unfortunately, the focus on the “word gap” takes teachers and other educators away from thinking about how to address the larger issue of inequality in education. Instead, it focuses attention on what children do not have in terms of an arbitrary word count.

Following the “word gap” logic, teachers often view vocabulary building as the most important aspect of education. However, in reality, there is a wide scope of early learning experiences that all young children, particularly those experiencing poverty, need to develop.

For example, approaches such as project-based learning provide students the opportunity to engage with complex topics and construct their own knowledge in addition to developing vocabulary.

Moreover, when we use the “word gap” to identify poor children as behind before they even begin school, that affects their teachers’ view of what they are capable of doing. It directs attention toward the things that poor families do not have and cannot offer their young children.

Poorer students can be made to feeling less capable because of what they do not know.
River Arts, CC BY-ND

Research shows that teachers of poor students and/or students of color often dwell on the experiences and language that their students are missing and default to teaching practices such as vocabulary drills and rote repetition that emphasize obedience and quiet behavior.

Not only do these types of learning experiences limit students’ opportunities to develop language, they also negatively affect students’ views of themselves as learners. Poor students are made to feel less capable because of what they do not know.

Because of the “word gap” and other widespread assumptions grounded in deficit thinking – the idea that low-income minority students fail in school because they and their families have deficiencies – many teachers are not tapping into the strengths and rich experiences that their students bring to school. Consequently, they deny students the types of learning experiences that allow them to explore, talk and collaborate.

Finally, the “word gap” sends a message to poor parents and parents of color that there is something wrong with their parenting if it is different from the practices of affluent, white parents.

It unfairly takes the onus off of schools and teachers to provide sophisticated learning opportunities in which their students can excel and places the blame for failure squarely on parents’ shoulders.

As a result, poor parents and parents of color are viewed as less capable because of what they do not know, just like their children.

The learning experience gap

Low-income children are more likely than their higher-income peers to be in factory-like classrooms that allow little interaction and physical movement. As a result, these children spend more time sitting, following directions and listening rather than discussing, debating, solving problems and sharing ideas.

Focusing on the “word gap” further perpetuates these problematic learning opportunities and deprives children of the types of learning experiences required to develop a range of sophisticated capabilities.

I believe that most parents, regardless of circumstance, would also agree that it is important to engage in conversation with their young children. However, early conversations and exposure to words will not determine whether a child does well in school. Furthermore, poverty is not an indication that parents are not speaking to their young children.

The academic disparity between young children in poverty and children from wealthier families is not a result of what their parents can offer. It is a result of the different types of learning experiences they are afforded at school.

In other words, it is not the “word gap” but the opportunity gap that is the problem.

The Conversation

Molly McManus, PhD Candidate in Educational Psychology, University of Texas at Austin

This article was originally published on The Conversation. Read the original article.

Adorbs new words will only really join the English language when we see them in print


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Gillian Rudd, University of Liverpool

Listicle: an article made up of lists. This may be regarded as
Bare lazy as it obviates the need for coherent paragraphs, or as
Douchebaggery, if it’s taken to be
Clickbait.

The temptation to create a listicle in response to the latest raft of words to win a place in the Oxford English Dictionary is great, but to be resisted. These latest additions do not simply show the love of creating words – this is something that has always happened in responses to changes in life and attitudes.

Instead, it demonstrates our current ability to promulgate such nonsense words, allowing them to gain sudden currency, perhaps through “trending”, to make use of another relative newcomer to the fold, or “retweeting”. (These are not to be confused with the newcomer “subtweets” which themselves perpetuate another long tradition in English – that of making snide remarks through indirect allusion in a public arena. Alexander Pope would have been a great subtweeter.)

Some of the newly accepted words make one of the main processes of linguistic evolution clear: that of creating a new word by analogy with one already in use. “Binge-watching” is the clearest example. This is the viewing of several episodes or indeed whole series of a televised drama in one sitting. This word is clearly created by analogy with “binge-drinking”, which came to replace the phrase “going on a binge” or “going on a bender” when referring to drinking large amounts of alcohol over a short space of time.

Yes, there’s a difference here – where the earlier two phrases indicated that the occurrence was infrequent, if not actually unusual, “binge-drinking” is habitual, normally taking place at weekends, much as “binge-watching” does for many. I’d like to think that “binge-browsing” might be next, with the specific meaning of spending hours browsing the OED site when one visited to look up just one word. But possibly this is not a habit to encourage, after all, ”YOLO“.

Such changes always provoke reaction. Reliably, this varies from outrage at the abuse of language and ignorance of etymological development that such words betray, to celebration of English as a language flexible enough to admit such vibrant new forms and accommodate the creativity of its users.

But what’s interesting to me, as someone whose most frequent uses of dictionaries are to correct spelling and check historical usage, is the way that great institution, the Oxford English Dictionary, is able to satisfy two roles at once. This is thanks to its dual format – in print and online. It’s the online version that will soon include “listicle” and the rest, with no guarantee that these words will make it into the next print version (assuming there is one, which is what the current distinction between print and online versions implies).

This allows for the OED to record passing uses and trends without compromising its role as final arbitrator on whether or not a word can be said to have entered the English language. This is, after all, a decision which to a large extent depends on proving that word not only gained currency but retained a decent, level of recorded usage over a period of time and, crucially, in print.

And so print retains its sense of permanence in the face of ephemeral but ubiquitous electronic media. Or apparently ephemeral. The recent ruling requiring Google in particular to “remove” records from the internet has reminded us that it is in fact all but impossible to delete anything committed to the electronic ether – however paradoxical that seems. It’s all still out there, it’s just no longer appearing in the search results.

Googling itself is a word now accepted by the online OED, and while at first its currency was an indicator of the success of the company, it’s interesting to speculate on the survival of the word should Google itself go under, or lose its predominant position. Would we then all revert to “web-searching” for background information, or would we google, just as we hoover, forgetful the fact that the common verb once indicated a specific, dominant company?

Only the print version of the OED will tell.

The Conversation

Gillian Rudd, Professor in English Literature, University of Liverpool

This article was originally published on The Conversation. Read the original article.

With regular introductions of crazy new words in the Oxford Dictionary, here’s a list of old words that should never have left us in the first place!


Language changes over time; words and phrases come and go. In many cases, there is a good reason for words leaving our vocabulary. I am certainly grateful that modern sewer systems mean there is no longer a need for the term Gardyloo – a warning call before chamber pots were poured out of windows onto the streets below.

Other old English terms, however, still have perfectly valid meanings in our modern world and really need to be brought back, if only for the pleasure of saying them. Here are 24 words and slang terms from old and middle English (or thereabouts) that are fun to say, still useful, and should never have left us in the first place.

1. Bedward

Exactly as it sounds, bedward means heading for bed. Who doesn’t like heading bedward after a hard day?

2. Billingsgate

This one is a sneaky word; it sounds so very proper and yet it refers to abusive language and curse words.

3. Brabble

Do you ever brabble? To brabble is to argue loudly about matters of no importance.

4. Crapulous

A most appropriate sounding word for the condition of feeling ill as a result of too much eating/drinking.

5. Elflock

Such a sweet word to describe hair that is tangled, as if it has been matted by elves.

6. Erstwhile

This very British sounding word refers to things that are not current, that belong to a former time, rather like the word itself.

7. Expergefactor

Something that wakes you up is an expergefactor. For most of us it’s our alarm clocks, but it could be anything from a chirping bird to a noisy neighbor.

8. Fudgel

Fudgel is the act of giving the impression you are working, when really you are doing nothing.

9. Groke

This means to stare intently at someone who is eating, in the hope that they will give you some. Watch any dog for a demonstration.

10. Grubble

Grubble might sound like the name of a character from a fantasy novel but it does in fact mean to feel or grope around for something that you can’t see.

11. Hugger-mugger

What a fun way to describe secretive, or covert behavior.

12. Hum durgeon

An imaginary illness. Sounds more like an imaginary word. Have you ever suffered from hum durgeon?

13. Jargogle

This is a perfect word that should never have left our vocabulary, it means to confuse or jumble.

14. Lanspresado

It sounds like the name of a sparkling wine, but no, it means a person who arrives somewhere, having conveniently forgotten their wallet, or having some other complicated story to explain why they don’t have money with them.

15. Mumpsimus

Mumpsimums is an incorrect view on something that a person refuses to let go of.

16. Quagswag

To shake something backwards and forwards is to quagswag, who knew?

17. Rawgabbit

We all know a few rawgabbits. A rawgabbit is a person who likes to gossip confidentially about matters that they know nothing about.

18. Snollygoster

I think we can all agree this is a fantastic sounding word. It means a person who has intelligence but no principles; a dangerous combination. Watch out for the snollygosters, they live amongst us.

19. Snottor

This old english term has the unlikely meaning of “wise.” Really?

20. Trumpery

Things that look good but are basically worthless. I said THINGS, not people.

21. Uhtceare

This means lying awake worrying before dawn. We all do this, we just didn’t know there was a word for it. Say it now, like this: oot-key-are-a.

22. Ultracrepidarian

Similar to the rawgabbit, this person takes every opportunity to share their opinion about things they know nothing about. Social media is the perfect outlet for these people.

23. Zwodder

Being in a drowsy, fuzzy state, after a big night out perhaps?

And finally, I broke the alphabetical listing to save my favorite till last…

24. Cockalorum

A small man with a big opinion of himself.

16 English words that are hard for non-natives to say


By: Mary Jo DiLonardo

‘Squirrel’ and ‘penguin’ are just the tip of the iceberg when it comes to our baffling language.
When I was growing up, my immigrant parents did an amazing job of learning English, but there were a few words and sounds they just couldn’t master. I remember going to the deli counter with my mom as she ordered “one pound of salami, sliced tin” — leaving the butcher looking baffled until one of us kids said “thin,” with an overemphasis on the “th” sound my mom couldn’t say.

And even today, my dad gets frustrated with those bushy-tailed critters in the backyard that commandeer his bird feeders and eat his tomatoes. He just can’t pronounce their name.

He’s not alone. On a recent Reddit thread, users weighed in with the English words they found toughest to pronounce. More than 5,500 people posted, sharing words and offbeat pronunciations, personal stories and impossible tongue twisters.

“Squirrel” was a popular submission and seems to particularly cause problems for native German speakers. One user says: “I’d counter from a foreign perspective that ‘Squirrel’ messes with German exchange students like you wouldn’t believe. To be fair though I can’t pronounce their word for it either.”

(Try it. “Eichhörnchen.”)

Carlos Gussenhoven, a phonologist at Radboud University in Netherlands, told Life’s Little Mysteries that “squirrel” is a shibboleth, a word notorious for the way its pronunciation identifies its speaker as a foreigner.

Although many non-native English speakers may have trouble with the word, Germans seem to have earned the worst rap with videos gently poking fun at their pronunciation attempts.

From sauce to birdsPopular on the Reddit thread was “Worcestershire,” a word that seems to baffle so many speakers, native and non-native alike.

One user offers this handy advice,” It’s that ‘-cest-‘ in the middle that messes people up. If you break it up like worce-ster-shire, the pronunciation makes sense.”

Or you could just point to the bottle.

Also popular in the discussion was “penguin.” Is this word really that hard to pronounce or was it just an excuse to link to a video of Benedict Cumberbatch voicing a BBC documentary where he said “pengwings” and other interesting iterations of the word?

“I’m completely terrified of the word,” Cumberbatch said on “The Graham Norton Show.”

Other big contendersAside from Worcestershire, squirrel and penguin, here are some of the submissions that popped up often on the Reddit thread of most easily garbled words — along with a few comments from posters.

Choir: “As a foreign speaker: Choir. Seriously. Why?”

wall of drawers

Drawer: “Droy-yer. Drar. Droor. Dror. I hate this word.”

Anemone: A helpful tongue twister: “In me, many an enemy anemone enema.”

Isthmus: From someone who lives in a town where that’s the name of the newspaper: “I have no idea how you are supposed to say the word, I just avoid it.”

Sixth: “What kind of word is that with an S and xth sound?”

Colonel: “If you know that it’s pronounced ‘kernel,’ it’s easy to pronounce. But if you were new to the English language and didn’t know that, you would never pronounce it correctly.”

Rural: “This one is entirely impossible for me as a German. ‘Squirrel’ I can manage.”

Tongue-twisting trends

“While there are clear trends in words non-native speakers mispronounce (due to irregularities in English spelling), words that are in principle hard to pronounce depend much more heavily on each individual speaker’s linguistic background,” says Czech linguist and mathematician Jakub Marian, author of “Most Common Mistakes in English.”

Words containing an “h” (as in “hello”) are difficult to pronounce for native speakers of romance languages and Russian, since there is no “h”-sound in their mother tongues, says Marian, who is fluent in four languages and can get by in four more.

“Words containing a ‘th’-sound (either as in ‘think’ or as in that’) are hard for almost everybody apart from Spaniards and Greeks, whose languages are two of the few that contain those sounds,” he says.

Marian offers some examples of words that stumble clumsily off a non-native’s tongue and why he says they’re difficult to say:

lettuce leaves

Lettuce: Remember that lettuce doesn’t grow on a spruce; and it also doesn’t rhyme with it.

Height: The pronunciation is as if it were written “hight.” The “e” is there just to confuse foreigners.

Fruit: The same situation as in the previous word; simply ignore the “i.”

Comfortable: If you “come for a table” to a furniture shop, it will hopefully be comfortable, although it doesn’t rhyme with it.

Recipe: “Cipe” in this case doesn’t rhyme with “ripe;” it consists of two separate syllables.

Non-native English speakers often cringe when they see anything ending in “-ough.” That’s because there are at least six pronunciations in American and British English for that relatively innocuous four-letter combination. A poster on StackExchange points out this example: “Though the tough cough and hiccough plough him through…”

Think the English language isn’t that tough? Check out “The Chaos” by Gerard Nolst Trenité. This 1922 classic poem is filled with about 800 of the oddest irregularities in English spelling and pronunciations.

Drawers: Floodwall Project/flickr

Lettuce: Alice Henneman/flickr

By: Mary Jo DiLonardo