Screw vocabulary. Think context.
By the end of this post, you'll associate my colleague passing out on holiday with rampant binge drinking.
It’s been 53 days since I was last gazeboed.
Before that, I spent a fair amount of time hammered, plastered, poleaxed, trolleyed, arseholed or indeed absolutely teakettled.
Don’t worry, this isn’t a worthy missive on the demon drink and the joys of temperance. I just wanted to prove a point.
Not one person reading this misunderstood what I meant.
You didn’t spend minutes unpicking how I could possibly be attacked by a medieval longarm, shopping container or outdoor shelter.
You instinctively knew that I was using one of the 546 words for drunkenness the English language boasts. Because of the context.
I reckon that’s a low estimate too.
I reckon that there are an unlimited number of words for drunkenness. It’s all about context.
Start your sentence with “I was absolutely…”
Absolutely is key here. It shows excess and a healthy mix of pride and regret.
End it with “… last night.” Because that’s a healthy contextual clue.
In between, you can pick any noun you want, as long as you can stick -ed on the end.
Don’t believe me? Look around and try it yourself.
“I was absolutely mousematted last night.”
“I was completely phonecased last night.”
Then play around with it. Tweak that construction, but keep the context the same.
“You would not believe how airfix spitfired I was on Saturday. Properly Ben-Hampson-after-a-fainting-fitted. Embarrassing.”
Now, just because of context, you’re associating a picture of Ben Hampson passing out on his honeymoon with being totally inebriated to the point of insensibility.
I hope it’s this one.
Stop agonising over word choices. Start spending more time creating a context that makes your meaning - and your message - clear.
Something mint - this horrifying pair of revenants or golems or whatever
I’m probably in this career because my primary school teacher asked me to do a history project on propaganda instead of fun stuff like tanks, planes and that time a load of commandos drove a destroyer into France and exploded it basically for a laugh. It made me realise that while I’m too fat/mard/tall to be a fighter pilot, there might be something in this compelling people with words lark.
So after my rant the other week about the poor quality of environmental advertising that’s aiming to do nothing less than SAVE THE WORLD, I went back to some very early environmental ads.
The make do and mend campaign from 1939. It’s aiming to save the chunk of the world you’re standing on from the Nazis. Which is pretty important.
It does everything that worthy, apocalyptic Woodland Trust advert didn’t.
Empowers the reader. Here is something YOU CAN DO NOW.
Has a memorable, simple action - you’re not scanning a QR code to learn about trees, you’re mending stuff.
Has a clear benefit for the reader. Save buying new. Sure, that’s good for the war industry, but it’s also good for your pocket.
Lifts morale. This isn’t the sad wreckage of a dead planet. This is a lighthearted bit of fun in a serious situation. Sure, the Luftwaffe are about to kill your neighbours, but that lad’s got bobbins for legs. He could be a Leeds United fullback.
It’s all about that context. Reframing something you’d throw away as a tool to safeguard your way of life. Don’t bin that waste paper, we’ll make it into a tank. Somehow.
Where’s this sense of forward momentum in modern environmental advertising, eh?
I can't believe we're spelling it 'trolleyed'.