Friday, 12 April 2013

Elizabethan insults I shall use more often...

Listening to the spotty, slack jawed, baggy trousered youth of today, you could be forgiven that the English language has, how can I put this... 'Gone shizzlin' gangsta blud, innit..?' Yes my dear boy... That's 'Bitchin.'

Forgive me kind gentle reader, i am sorry to have shocked you with such profane language, uttered by street guttersnipes outside your local off licence. Mind you, offensive profanities are not the reserve of today's ineffectual youths in hoods, my word no...

In my life's quest for flowery language, there can be no other verbal insults as good and effective as the Shakespearean Elizabethan of yesteryear, and youths in hoods would be well advised to pick up on this. For example, you may be outside your local purveyor of fine ready rubbed shag to be accosted thusly...

'Oi... Battyboi... Gizza dolla or I slice you innit...'

On being insulted in this manner, a gentleman of sobriety and self worth such as myself would be inclined to flatten the cream faced loon with a blow worthy of inclusion in the Queensbury rules. However, quick wit is the key here, and the manifestation of your superior breeding and well read mind should prevail over mere thuggery. Your riposte should be rapier like...

'You Scullion, You Rampallion, You Fustilarion... I shall tickle your catastrophe. indeed Sir, A weasel hath not such a deal of spleen, as you are toss'd with.'

Write that down. Learn it. It may save your life one day. I'm sure that a reply such as this would so confuse the poor little tyke. He may say something like... 'Say whaaat..?' That is the moment of your destiny, as you would have plenty of time to make your lightening like escape on foot to the nearest office of the constabulary, as is your duty as a citizen.

Mind how you go...

Paul Martin is @ukcameraman on Twitter.