A Thai student emailed me recently to ask if I could explain the difference between a spoonerism and a malapropism. Admittedly I'm the last person to answer questions on the intricacies of the English language. But spoonerisms and malapropisms are one of the more entertaining linguistic diversions, so we'll have a bash.
The gentleman responsible for it all was a certain Rev William Spooner (1844-1930), warden of New College, Oxford, who became renowned for transposing the initial consonants of a pair of words, often resulting in an amusing ambiguity of meaning. Unfortunately a lot of the common examples you see are most likely apocryphal, but don't let that spoil the fun. No doubt we've all inadvertently come out with a spoonerism at one time or another.
One of Spooner's most acclaimed efforts occurred while standing in a church pulpit and splendidly announcing the next hymn as "Kinquering Congs Their Titles Take". On another occasion at a dinner party Spooner proposed a toast to Queen Victoria, but it unfortunately came out as "Let us toast the queer old Dean".
Piece of Cake
Spooneresque slip-ups tend to occur on important occasions when the speaker is a trifle nervous. This was probably the case when a curate at a formal church luncheon invited Dr William Cosmo Lang, archbishop of Canterbury in the 1930s, to "have another piece of Grace, your Cake".
Some years ago, introducing the refurbished Cutty Sark to Prince Philip and a host of other dignitaries, the nervous mayor of Greenwich accidentally renamed the old clipper the "Sutty Cark".
BBC announcers inevitably have provided a few spoonerisms over the years. On a classical music programme listeners were informed "We shall now hear Bolero's Ravel". Then there was the weather forecaster who prompted some confusion after announcing there would be "widespread fist and mog patches".
Let us pray
Churches seem to be a common venue for slips of the tongue. In his book Foot in Mouth, Nigel Rees mentions a priest who concluded a wedding ceremony by intending to tell the happy couple that they were "lawfully joined together" but which unfortunately came out as "joyfully loined together", which was, admittedly, probably more accurate. Another clergyman, after arriving late at a church function apologised to the congregation by admitting "I have well and truly clotted my bottybook".
Politicians' names can also cause problems, especially for nervous newscasters. Back in the 1930s, radio announcer Harry von Zell famously introduced US president Herbert Hoover as "Hoobert Heaver". In 1949, British politician Sir Stafford Cripps was referred to by a BBC newsreader as "Sir Stifford Crapps".
Pineapples and lobsters
Closely related to the spoonerism is the malapropism, named after Mrs Malaprop, a character in RB Sheridan's play, The Rivals. It was Mrs Malaprop who came out with such comments as "illiterate him, I say, from your memory" or "he is the very pineapple of politeness".
The vocabulary of the English language is so extensive that it's hardly surprising that sometimes we come out with the totally wrong word, although it might sound similar to the one intended. A classic example is the lady who explained to a doctor that "my husband is in pain with swollen tentacles".
Then there was the proud father who said of his son, "the world's his lobster". And we must not forget the concerned auntie who came out with: "My niece is going to apply for a divorce because her marriage has not been consumed."
Quite suspicious
Most malapropisms are spoken, but sometimes they make it into print too. One UK magazine reporting the compilation of a cookbook told its readers: "Please submit your favourite recipe and a helpful antidote concerning it."
In Thailand, on several occasions over the years there have been newspaper advertisements announcing an auspicious event, but which unfortunately came out as "on this suspicious occasion".
People making impromptu speeches are probably the most prone to malapropisms. Some years back a UK Labour Party official at a meeting in the English Midlands proclaimed: "Certain allegations have been made against me. I will reply to those at the next meeting after I have confronted the alligators."
This sporting life
Sports interviews are always a rich source of malapropisms. When Mike Tyson was nearing retirement he commented: "I might just fade into Bolivian, you know what I mean?" Well, we think we do Mike.
Another boxer, England's Frank Bruno, referring to the Canadian background of Lennox Lewis, announced: "You don't have to be Ironside to know that man don't live in England." Einstein would probably have known what Frank was getting at.
I'm sorry, I'll read that again
It's not surprising newscasters and reporters occasionally let slip the odd malapropism. One of the better-known instances occurred in the 1973 Yom Kippur war. Amid rumours that Lebanon was about to enter the conflict, a BBC correspondent talked about "lesbian forces moving towards Israel". Then there was a TV reporter covering a rebellion in an African country, who observed that "the trouble has been caused by unpatriotic elephants in the country".
Finally, it is hard to beat the BBC weather forecaster who informed us "there is a trough of low pleasure over Europe". In stark contrast to the "pleasure weather", the Guardian newspaper once adopted a more sombre mood with: "Today's weather: A depression will mope across southern England."
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