28 July 2016
Nicknames
by Don Urquhart
Shawsheet 63 included a Boris-inspired essay on insults. This appeared to conclude that many people long to be insulted by the great and good and, ideally, by a professional. I was reminded of my schooldays when it was mandatory to have nicknames and they were rarely complimentary. For some reason the lads “Bogey”, “Turk” and “Sex” stick in my mind. At this remove I can only guess at how these sobriquets were earned. Sometimes a person’s nickname was just too good. One such was an old school contemporary I met again at a reunion and a very pleasant chap he had turned out to be. Later my pal Colin and I dissected events and it transpired that we had both run up against this same chap. Something in Colin’s expression told me that we had had a similar experience. “What was his name Colin?” “Don’t know, I always knew him as Weed.” I still can’t recall his name. Nice bloke though.
If someone gives you a nickname, however rude, at least it shows they are thinking about you. A German friend called Konny proclaimed that, as a youngster her favourite character in literature was Old Shatterhand, a Wild West hero in novels by Karl May. I was surprised to hear that German adolescent girls favoured Wild West heroes over say Heidi; started looking at Konny and indeed German womanhood in a new light, and resolved to read some Karl May. The other day I finally got my hands on Winnetou. Its hero is mocked as the Greenhorn until he takes exception to some manhandling by a large roustabout and gives him a smack that lays him out cold. “Shatterhand! Old Shatterhand! Ganz ähnlich wie Old Firehand, der auch ein Westmann ist, stark wie ein Bär.” So now I can discuss with Konny the moment her hero received his nickname.
As far as professional vilification is concerned I recall a family holiday spent in Vancouver some years ago. One of the things you had to do in that City was to visit Elbow Room, a modestly appointed café where the waiters abused you. As the ladies entered they were addressed as whores and sluts, the gentlemen as onanists engaged in fornication and similar. It wasn’t clever or well-honed but the punters were eager to be singled out regardless of context and mode of address. It’s still there. I checked it out on Tripadvisor and can recommend a perusal of the reviews if your mood needs lifting.
Being called names in Vancouver will be something my family will laugh about for a long time to come. Sharing the enthusiasm of my friend for an exotically named hero will strengthen our ties. Colin passed away a couple of years ago. It’s nice to look back at the times we laughed together. Thanks Weed!
If you enjoyed this article please share it using the buttons above.
Please click here if you would like a weekly email on publication of the Shaw Sheet
