Time to challenge notion there’s only one way to speak English

It may be appropriate for ageing reactionaries to accept as the fact that language inevitably evolves and assumes new habits, writes Colin Randall

Linda Thompson, admired for her work in the folk-rock genre, occasionally delivers magisterial rebukes to those guilty of sloppy or ugly expression. Robin Little/Redferns

After the terrible accident that killed four people on a ride at an Australian theme park last Tuesday, an official spoke these words to the media: “They sustained injuries that were incompatible with living.”

Oddly enough, it took a French woman to draw attention to such a strange and inelegant example of what the English writer George Orwell, author of 1984 and Animal Farm, might have called officialspeak.

Flossie Malavialle, a singer who lives in the UK and performs exquisitely in English and French on the British folk music circuit, posted on Facebook that it seemed a “really weird” way of saying four people had been killed.

As she also noted, the sad fate of two men and two women who had been enjoying a day out outweighs any quarrels with words chosen to describe their deaths. But it does not diminish our sympathy for the victims if we comment on the hideous construction of the quoted phrase.

Did the official in question think he was sparing the feelings of loved ones, given the nature of the injuries, or was he grasping unnecessarily for cautious legal or medical terminology? We may never know.

But it is remarkable how many English-speaking representatives of authority whose duties include talking to the media favour a mangled version of the language.

Their intentions – to avoid sensationalism after distressing events, for example – may be honourable, but the need can surely be met without recourse to a bizarre form of words that defeats the need for clarity.

There is some distance between questioning how officials talk about human tragedy and reflecting on everyday abuses of English. But the liberties taken with the language assault our ears and eyes in a variety of ways. It may be something to do with folk music but another singer, Linda Thompson, admired for her work in the folk-rock genre, occasionally delivers magisterial rebukes to those guilty of sloppy or ugly expression.

In one instance, discussed here two years ago, Thompson professed astonishment at hearing a speaker on television ask “does this pass mustard?” when meaning “pass muster”. She returned to her general theme a few days ago, declaring as her pet hate “at this moment in time – five words that mean now”, prompting her many Facebook friends to offer candidates for disapproval.

The responses covered familiar ground, with much mention of usage originating in the United States and cheerfully adopted by other English speakers.

One man complained about the irritating use of “can I get?”, when ordering drinks or meals, “as if they are going to leap over the counter and help themselves”.

Another disliked being told “I’m good” when asking someone “how are you?”, since his inquiry concerns health or state of mind, “not moral rectitude”. Other contributors objected to “as of yet” and “going forward in a meaningful way”, while the British were singled out for seeming unable to find an adjective other than “brilliant” for something they like a lot.

Most of those sharing Thompson’s disdain for modern speech are probably some years beyond their 50th birthdays. Perhaps it is a common trait as we get older to raise eyebrows at how others speak or write. This week, I caught myself tut-tutting when my eight-year-old granddaughter said: “I’m done”, meaning she had completed a particular activity.

At the end of the day and, indeed, at this moment in time, it may be appropriate for ageing reactionaries to think outside the box, reach out to younger people and accept as a no-brainer that language inevitably evolves and assumes new habits – and always has done.

Colin Randall is a former executive editor of The National