Long-time reader Damien Maguire has emailed with a raised eyebrow about my suggestion that the Hiberno-English get as used by a political opponent to insult the RIC parentage of Noel Browne (Irishmans Diary January 23rd) means bastard, more or less.

Damien writes: Growing up in Meath, get was commonly used. In fact, Im sure I was called one myself, but I thought it meant something like impudent pup. I havent heard it for years . . .

Well yes, Damien, it can mean impudent pup. Im sure I too was called it in that context a few times. And it can also often be said with affection, or near enough. In fact, speaking of pups, the Oxford English Dictionary has an insult-free sense of the word: get, n. Begetting, offspring, (of animals, esp. in sporting talk).

That usage has roots in the Bible, from the famous pedigree section of the Book of Genesis wherein it is recorded who begat whom, from Adam to Noah. And somewhere in between the Bible and the OED, meanwhile, the shorter version (still as a verb) turns up in Macbeth, where the Weird Sisters tease Macduff that thou shalt get kings, though thou be none.

There was no implication of illegitimacy there, clearly. Im not sure when that meaning crept in.But its interesting that the g-word should feature in Shakespeares Scottish play, because in Scotland (like Ireland), the related insult is still pronounced get, mostly; whereas in England or at least the south of England it has long mutated to git, in the process losing any breeding connotations.

This was a subject for debate recently in, of all places, the Guardian crossword blog, where a cryptic clue for the word AGITATE was broken down as a (A) term for contemptible fool (GIT) swallowed (ATE) shake. In discussing gits meaning, as defined there, the Guardian learned it had been used in the House of Commons at least once, in 1984, when a Labour MP described a Conservative minister as a snivelling little git.

This was ruled unparliamentary language then, causing the MP to protest that such Cockney phrases should be allowed.

But while the Guardian agreed that git was a Cockney phrase, it pointed to its parentage in get, and claimed that via Scotland it had gradually shifted meaning from something you get, to a child, to an illegitimate child, to a term of abuse.

Git is given as a secondary spelling of get even in Terry Dolans Dictionary of Hiberno-English (which defines the term as brat, bastard). And no doubt there are parts of Ireland where it is so pronounced, especially in the west, although Dolans conversational example is from Mayo: You little get, come here till I catch hold of you!.

As for England, I can think of at least one Liverpudlian of recent times who also preferred get to git. Heres John Lennon, in 1968, singing about insomnia: Im so-o-o tired/Im feeling so upset/Although Im so tired/Ill have another cigarette/And curse Sir Walter Raleigh/He was such a stupid get . . .

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Still on three-letter words ending in et, I have long been fascinated by the fondness of many journalists a fondness bordering on addiction for using the term set in sentences where it serves no purpose.

The context, usually, is when reporting events of the near future. How many times have you read, for example, that a man is set to appear in court today, introducing a story wherein a man is to appear in court today would have covered the situation more than adequately? The habit is especially rife among headline writers, even though its an article of their faith that space is scarce and superfluity should be avoided.

Perhaps they think it adds an element of deniability in case the event doesnt happen. Or maybe it just sounds more dramatic. It does, in fact, when combined with the other three-letter word: get set being the traditional prequel to the start of a race (a foot-race, that is, not the kind of race Adam started).

Still, I was vaguely annoyed as usual earlier this week to read a headline on the sports pages: Billy Vunipola set to miss Six Nations. My annoyance deepened as it became clear that there was no doubt about the story: he was definitely out.Here was just the sort of thing I meant.

But wait. Then I reflected upon the nature of his injury: a broken arm. Not only was he going to miss the Six Nations, he would indeed be set (we hope) while doing so.They had me on a technicality. Damn. I could only apologise to the headline writer and wish poor Billy well.

Original post:

Not Well Got Frank McNally on the evolution of a Hiberno-Scottish insult - The Irish Times