Hi - yet another newcomer to these pages, so please forgive any shortcomings.
At work a few days ago the word "ept" cropped up (meaning not inept), and started me thinking about similar nonexistent opposites. Ept reminded me of the classic "ert", and a little thinking yielded "gruntled" and "shevelled". I remember a novel featuring a character whose nickname was "reck" (not in the slightest bit reckless), which then led me on to "feck" and "hap", but that's as far as I got. I'm fairly sure I'm missing some much better, and much more common examples.
Any suggestions?
WARNING - some of these ostensibly nonexistent opposites may, in fact, exist; at least in a historical reference such as the OED. I know this to be true, for instance, of gruntle and feck....
Let us not forget the graces those named Ruth must possess. And sometimes we may appear very much unlike her...
gruntle and feckYou only talk dirty when the Gutter Police are on the road, huh?
Welcome to the board, goatboy - I have a feeling you will fit in just fine around here! My brain unfortunately has exited before I have tonight, so I will leave it to my more wittful brethren and sistren to talk sense with you on this lovely topic.
ruth
Etymology: Middle English ruthe, from ruen to rue
Date: 13th century
1 : compassion for the misery of another
2 : sorrow for one's own faults : REMORSE
ruthful - full of sorrow: woeful; full of ruth: pitiful
(I did warn you ;)
feck
> You only talk dirty when the Gutter Police are on the road, huh?
irrespective of the way it's used dialectally by the Irish,
feck \Feck\, n. [Abbrev. fr. effect.] 1. Effect. [Obs.]
2. Efficacy; force; value. [Scot. & Prov. Eng.]
3. Amount; quantity. [Scot. & Prov. Eng.]
He had a feck o' books wi' him. --R. L. Stevenson.
The most feck, or The feck, the greater or larger part. ``The feck o' my life.'' --Burns.
feckful - [Scot] 1) efficient, effective 2) vigorous; powerful
REMORSE
Is this a coded return to grief? ;)
>i won't
nice restraint there, c-i. 8)
New to some .....
How I Met my Wife
by Jack Winter, published 25 July 1994 - The New Yorker
It had been a rough day, so when I walked into the party I was very chalant, despite my efforts to appear gruntled and consolate.
I was furling my wieldy umbrella for the coat check when I saw her standing alone in a corner. She was a descript person, a woman in a state of total array. Her hair was kempt, her clothing shevelled, and she moved in a gainly way. I wanted desperately to meet her, but I knew I'd have to make bones about it since I was travelling cognito. Beknownst to me, the hostess, whom I could see both hide and hair of, was very proper, so it would be skin off my nose if anything bad happened. And even though I had only swerving loyalty to her, my manners couldn't be peccable. Only toward and heard-of behaviour would do.
Fortunately, the embarrassment that my maculate appearance might cause was evitable. There were two ways about it, but the chances that someone as flappable as I would be ept enough to become persona grata or a sung hero were slim. I was, after all, something to sneeze at, someone you could easily hold a candle to, someone who usually aroused bridled passion. So I decided not to risk it. But then, all at once, for some apparent reason, she looked in my direction and smiled in a way that I could make heads and tails of.
I was plussed. It was concerting to see that she was communicado, and it nerved me that she was interested in a pareil like me, sight seen. Normally, I had a domitable spirit, but, being corrigible, I felt capacitated -- as if this were something I was great shakes at -- and forgot that I had succeeded in situations like this only a told number of times. So, after a terminable delay, I acted with mitigated gall and made my way through the ruly crowd with strong givings.
Nevertheless, since this was all new hat to me and I had no time to prepare a promptu speech, I was petuous. Wanting to make only called-for remarks, I started talking about the hors d'oeuvres, trying to abuse her of the notion that I was sipid, and perhaps even bunk a few myths about myself.
She responded well, and I was mayed that she considered me a savoury character who was up to some good. She told me who she was. "What a perfect nomer," I said, advertently. The conversation become more and more choate, and we spoke at length to much avail. But I was defatigable, so I had to leave at a godly hour. I asked if she wanted to come with me. To my delight, she was committal. We left the party together and have been together ever since. I have given her my love, and she has requited it.
Crikey! That pretty much covers it.
Thanks especially for kempt, which I don't think I've ever been in my life, but is now a new favourite word of mine.
In reply to:
someone who usually aroused bridled passion
Anybody else want to play horses?
Bingley
REMORSE
Is this a coded return to grief? ;)
No, dear Maverick, it's a club pushing for the return to TV of the PBS Mystery series featuring Inspector Morse.
are they also planning on raising him from the dead? will we learn Inspector Morse first name is really Lazerus?
>Anybody else want to play horses?
our pravity knows bounds; it is aweless.