Tag: nonsense words

Such a Kerfuffle O’er a Runcible Spoon

Posted on by Kathy Waller in Uncategorized

[I don’t know why several paragraphs are jammed together.
I double-spaced. I triple-spaced.
But the paragraphs insist on bunching up
in an unattractive and almost unreadable lump.
My apologies.
I tried.]

Today I answer the question—Exactly what is a runcible spoon?

You no doubt remember that Edward Lear’s Owl and Pussy-Cat use one at their wedding breakfast:

“They dined on mince, and slices of quince,
   Which they ate with a runcible spoon;” . . . 
Since the term isn’t in general usage, many readers don’t understand it but accept it as a Lear-ism and ask no further.
Those who do go further and consult Merriam-Webster find it is “a sharp-edged fork with three broad curved prongs,”—but MW cites no sources, a no-no in scholarly circles. Some sources claim it’s a spork.
Wikipedia goes on and on about runcible spoons but offers no definitive answer. It includes a long list of authors, screenwriters, composers, and others who’ve used the word runcible. These two jump out at me:
  • Paul McCartney‘s 2001 album Driving Rain includes the track “Heather” which features the lyrics: “And I will dance to a runcible tune / With the queen of my heart”. McCartney has explained the connection to “The Owl and the Pussycat” in various interviews since its release.
  • In Lemony Snicket‘s 2006 The End, an island cult eats using only runcible spoons
Such a kerfuffle over something that should be as plain as the nose on the Pussy-Cat’s face.
Lear himself defines the term—not in O&P, but in a lesser-known work. In Twenty-Six Nonsense Rhymes and Pictures, he writes of
The Dolumphious Duck,
Who caught Spotted Frogs for her dinner
With a runcible spoon
and provides a picture:

 

Tricia Christensen, writing in LanguageHumanities, notes that

A Latin word runcare means to weed out. This word could explain the Dolumphious Duck’s fishing process with a runcible spoon. The duck is really weeding out the frogs from the water.

That should settle the question. But it doesn’t.

For one thing, it seems to me that eating mince and slices of quince with a runcible spoon would be difficult if not downright messy.

And Christensen notes that Lear also applies the adjective to a goose, a hat, and a wall. Wikipedia points to a runcible cat and a Rural Runcible Raven. None of the aforementioned, at least as we understand them, resembles a ladle.

“Despite the nebulous meaning of the words runcible spoon,” she says, “they trip off the tongue with delight and account for their many uses by other authors.”

So—what is a runcible spoon? It’s nonsense.

What else would it be? It comes from the brain of Edward Lear.

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Except, to muddy the water:

Wikipedia dates publication of “The Owl and the Pussy-Cat” at 1870.

Here’s a photo of a George III Sterling runcible spoon by Eley & Fearn, L0ndon, 1817

George III Sterling Silver runcible spoon – by Eley & Fearn, London. TonyGosling, CC BY-SA 4.0, via Wikimedia Commons

 

Maybe the item wasn’t originally called a runcible spoon. Maybe the adjective was applied post-1870. I don’t know.

More nonsense.

Night of the Violent Mirdango

Posted on by Kathy Waller in Uncategorized

“Oh, Lord Azoth.” Miss Brulzies laid the palm of her soft little hand on his cytanic dargest. “That is just the most impressive, the most cytanic dargest I’ve ever come across.”

Adjusting his eyewire, Lord Azoth said with a flaudant gipple, “You little hoyden. You knew wearing that white ignibrate would jackonet my kreits. And the rose sticking out of your ligara… Ye gads! I cannot restrain myself. Will you glide across the floor with me in a violent mirdango?”

“Yes, yes, yes!” And then, “But do you think we should? Neymald stands by the punch bowl, and his oxene eyes hint he’s already pecanada, and we should not qualt him. You know–you must know–that our mirdango, especially if we perform it violently, will ryot him into committing a skewdad.”

“Phooey on Neymald and his skewdads,” said Lord Azoth. “You are my trompot, you little hoyden, not Neymald’s, and I will mirdango with you as violently as I please. Neymald will just have to uject it.”

And with that, he readjusted his eyewire, shifted his dargest, the one she had called cytanic, and, taking her hand, escorted her to the vucuder.

There, to a melancholy tune played by a wandering wandolin, they executed their violent mirdango.

Neymald, stymied, could do nothing but hang over the punchbowl, very pecanada and now very, very qualted indeed. But his pecanada was so advanced, he couldn’t think of even one decent skewdad.

Able only to stand there and xystoi, “Yirth!” he cried, and sighed. “Now I shall have to challenge Azoth to a zabak. But without a cytanic dargest, I’ll surely lose.” Then, of a sudden, he ideated: There’s more than one way to win a zabak.

He filled a cup and proffered it to the hoyden, her face aglow with the innocence of youth, wending her way toward the punch bowl.

“My dear, what a lovely red ignibrate you are decked out in,” he said. “And is that a dargest you carry, its handle toward my hand?” He bowed. “May I have this mirdango? I promise you—we will be violent. And afterward, perhaps you will allow me to hold your dargest. It is the most cytanic dargest I have ever come across.”

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To see what it’s all about, read A Zusky, Cytanic Adventure. Then write your own.