Those of you who possess eyes might have noticed that there is a “word of the week” at the foot of this column.
Life was simpler in the 1970s. There were three TV channels and the only things that tweeted were birds.
I was annoyed to read the thoughts of a political reporter who believed the prime minister had failed to barter a good Brexit agreement.
If we don’t have a suitable word in English, we steal one. We assimilate words: kayak (from Greenlandic), waffle (from the Dutch), shampoo (from Hindustani).
I was told a story this week, which may be true, but may not. It sounded depressingly feasible to me, but you can make up your own mind.
Boris Johnson was branded a “muckle glaikit numpty” by an SNP activist leading a debate on the Scots language at the party’s conference.
This week I’m going to attempt to lose my job. I’m asking: is there anything more ridiculous than management-speak?
Gary Robertson is Dundee’s modern McGonagall.
The weather turned a corner this week, there’s an autumnal taste on the wind. The words my mother would have used are: “a nip in the air”.
A senior police chief has urged politicians and public figures to use “temperate and responsible language” when debating Brexit.