HOW better to rehabilitate vile disgusting stuff than giving it a lovely wholesome name? Here’s five examples that should be put to sleep:
They’re not bread and they’re not sweet; they’re testicles. An unadulterated lie to camouflage the least appetising bits of an animal. If your middle-class dinner party host offers you a slice of sweetbread politely explain you’re not on I’m A Celebrity and don’t have to.
Rename to: Farm Clackers.
Not the latest cutesy cuddly teddies, but tiny vicious insects that nibble away while you sleep in search of blood that will torture you and infest everything you own until the only safe, recommended way to clear the infestation is to burn it all.
Rename to: Vampire Mattress Bastards.
What’s that I hear? Is it the beautiful warble of the song thrush or the repetitive scratching of sore genitalia? Why a fungal infection should be named after a garden bird is a complete mystery. Why not call cystitis ‘Hedgehog’?
Rename to: The Mould Clap.
Does it wobble when touched? Kind of. Does it taste of lime and go well with ice-cream? No. At best it will give you a horrible stinging rash, at worst it will actually kill you. Even when dead and washed-up on shore these lumps of toxic snot are still active.
Rename to: Aquatic Murder Phlegm.
Like a crackling blaze in an open hearth on a frosty day, ‘friendly fire’ offers a warm comforting oxymoron to melt away the grisly reality of killing one of your side in warfare. ‘Friendly fire’ is also the reason why most senior officers and defence ministers don’t appear on the battlefield.
Rename to: Friendicide.