Common Phrases Read online

Either way, those two are the term’s only begetters, with the added “A” universally recognized as an “intensifier.” A-OK now means All OK.

  Apple-pie order

  Although claimed by Americans (“as American as apple pie”), pies made with apples in England date back as far as Chaucer and beyond, well before a single apple tree grew in North America. But linguists assign the association of apple pies with neatness and order to the French language originally, and it may well have remained in French.

  However, in 1780 the English version of the expression was launched by Admiral Sir William Pasley, whose published Sea Journals of HMS Sibyl contained his weekly plan:

  Tuesdays and Fridays—exercise great guns and small arms;

  Wednesdays and Saturdays—fire volleys and fumigate;

  Mondays—air spare sails;

  Thursdays—muster the men;

  And their Persons Clean and in apple-pie order on Sundays.

  Arm candy

  An attractive woman, escorted by a man with whom she need not have any relationship, creates such a lasting impression that it arouses envy toward the man among those who see them together.

  The origin of this term is attributed to journalist Marcia Froelke Coburn in the Chicago Tribune (August 21, 1992) when commenting on Marilyn Monroe’s brief appearance (as George Sanders’ party partner) in the 1950 film All About Eve. Later the term achieved gender-equity and may refer to a good-looking man partnering a woman.

  See also Ear candy. Both terms are related to “eye candy,” which surfaced in the mid-1980s and went into overdrive when Baywatch started on television in 1989. Eminent British etymologist John Ayto observes that “eye, ear, and arm candy” may have developed from the 1930s slang term for cocaine: “nose candy.”

  As fresh as paint

  In the 1850 novel Frank Fairleigh, British writer Francis Edward Smedley introduced the line:

  You are looking as fresh as paint; getting round again,

  wind and limb, eh?

  As good as gold

  In Charles Dickens’ A Christmas Carol (1843), Mrs. Cratchitt asks:

  “And how did little Tim behave?”

  “As good as gold,” answered Bob.

  Ask me no questions and I’ll tell you no lies

  In the course of the complex plot of She Stoops to Conquer (1773), by Irish playwright Oliver Goldsmith, the character of Tony Lumpkin retrieves a casket of jewels and is asked how he achieved this. He answers:

  Ask me no questions and I’ll tell you no fibs.

  Over the years, fibs became lies.

  As long as they spell my name right

  There are many and varied versions of this original line. It may be the ancestor of there being “no such thing as bad publicity”—as long as the name is recognizable. Even more numerous than variations on the original line are the names of those who are supposed to have said it first: Mae West, Oscar Wilde, P.T. Barnum, Will Rogers, W.C. Fields, Mark Twain, American politician Tim Sullivan, Dame Nellie Melba, or Edith Head.

  The variations have flowed from the original remark by American author, dancer, and singer George M. Cohan. He was an undisputed star of musical theater, but in 1912 word got around New York that Cohan was planning to appear in a straight play, which aroused curiosity.

  His biographer John McCabe, in The Man Who Owned Broadway, reports that when a journalist queried Cohan, he replied:

  I don’t care what you say about me, as long as you say something about me, and spell my name right.

  Two years earlier, speaking to a gala dinner for 1,500 theater people, Cohan had also said: “I have only one request to make of you tonight . . . Please mention my name as much as possible.”

  Over time, Cohan’s remark may have morphed into the condensed version: “There is no such thing as bad publicity.”

  At this point (or At this moment) in time

  The expression may have come about with the development of space travel. In space it is not always possible to observe time measurements as they relate to an earthly clock, but in order that reports back to earth can be equated with terrestrial time-spans, a communiqué may be declared “at this point in time,” referring to the time in space.

  But the term caught on among people who relish orotundity, i.e., unnecessarily bombastic or elaborate speech. One such appeared to be John Dean, an adviser to President Richard M. Nixon. During the widely publicized and televised Watergate hearings in 1973, Dean frequently said, “at this point in time,” and the term rapidly went into popular usage—sometimes in a joking way, but sometimes not.

  Axis of evil

  Axis is a mathematical term describing “a straight line about which a body or geometric figure rotates.”

  The first known use of the word axis to describe an alignment of nations was by Gyula Gömbös, the Premier of Hungary, in the early 1930s, referring to an axis that connected Fascist Italy and Nazi Germany with Hungary.

  The term went into wider use when Italian premier Benito Mussolini made a public address on November 1, 1936 saying that the Berlin-Rome line was not an obstacle but an axis (asse in Italian) around which European states with a will to collaborate could revolve.

  The axis of nations was mentioned in English in newspaper reports the following day, and in time it became a familiar term during World War II as a collective description of Germany, Italy, and Japan—the Axis Powers, as opposed to the Allied Powers—Britain, United States, and Russia.

  In 2002 David Frum was a speechwriter for President George W. Bush. He teamed the already familiar term axis with “hatred,” changing it to “evil” for the President’s State of the Union address on January 29 that year. Referring to countries believed to sponsor terrorism and harbour weapons of mass destruction, the President’s speech declared:

  States like these, and their terrorist allies, constitute an axis of evil, arming to threaten the peace of the world.

  President Bush’s speech was widely reported and put the term axis of evil into common English usage.

  Babes in the wood

  The well-known tale is believed to be based on a real-life situation—two children left by their dying father with his evil brother who, wanting to get his hands on the children’s inheritance, takes them into a forest and abandons them. The first known telling of the story was in a 1595 ballad: The Children in the Wood, or the Norfolk Gentleman’s Last Will and Testament, by Thomas Millington.

  Since then the story has appeared in dozens of versions—poems, story-books, a Walt Disney movie (which strayed from the original tale by introducing magical woodland elves), pantomimes, and a sophisticated Cole Porter song (about two “babes” who lack the innocence of the 1595 originals: “They have found that the fountain of youth/ Is a mixture of gin and vermouth ...”).

  The title phrase of the original story gradually modified the children into babes and has become a commonplace term referring to anyone who seems innocent of whatever dangers surround them.

  Backseat driver

  As cars became more commonplace, so too did the impulse grow for passengers to give advice to the driver. Backseat drivers were first mentioned in a newspaper in 1921 (the Bismarck Tribune, North Dakota) and defined as those who issue instructions, give advice and offer criticism.

  The term reached a much wider international audience in 1930, when Jeeves and the Old School Chum by P.G. Wodehouse was published:

  Quite suddenly and unexpectedly, no one more surprised than myself, the car let out a faint gurgle like a sick moose and stopped in its tracks . . . the back-seat drivers gave tongue. “What’s the matter? What has happened?” I explained. “I’m not stopping. It’s the car.”

  Backs to the wall

  On April 11, 1918, Field Marshal Sir Douglas Haig, Commander-in-Chief, British Armies in France, issued a “Special Order of the Day” to all ranks, containing the following:

  Every position must be held to the last man: there must be no retirement. With our backs to the wall and bel
ieving in the justice of our cause each one of us must fight on to the end.

  The term may have been in circulation beforehand, but Haig’s communiqué quickly became known as the “Backs to the Wall Order” and put the expression into common use.

  (A) bad egg

  A reference to a person of undesirable qualities; the image is based on the fact that an egg which looks quite acceptable on the outside may prove rotten upon closer inspection.

  This image first surfaced in the 1855 novel Captain Priest by American author Samuel Hammett (writing as Philip Paxton). Referring to someone who appears to be utterly faultless, he says:

  The perfect bird generally turns out to be a bad egg.

  The term retained this negative meaning until the end of the nineteenth century when a reverse version appeared complimenting someone with admirable qualities as a “good egg.”

  From 1919 on, the public became acquainted with P.G. Wodehouse’s character Bertie Wooster who was particularly fond of the expression “good egg,” which may have been a factor in broadening its popular appeal.

  Bad hair day

  The expression—slang for a time when things are going badly—undoubtedly had a limited currency before it reached a wider public. In an interview on Weekend Update, television journalist Jane Pauley mentioned having invented the term herself during the 1970s. But according to the BBC, columnist Susan Swartz was the first person to spring the term on an unsuspecting public in print in the Houston Chronicle in 1988—on an unsuspecting adult public, that is. Swartz later acknowledged that she used the term quite casually, probably having heard it said by teenage girls. Nevertheless, she holds the distinction of being responsible for its first public appearance.

  The really major international exposure came in the 1992 movie Buffy the Vampire Slayer, written by Joss Whedon. Buffy says to the one-armed vampire Amilyn:

  I’m fine, but you’re obviously having a bad hair day.

  (The) balance of power

  In 1734 the Duke of Newcastle used the term “balance of power” when writing to Horace Walpole, who repeated the phrase a few years later in a letter to his brother, Sir Robert Walpole:

  The situation and conduct of the States is of that consequence to England and to the balance of power in Europe, that this place cannot be without an able and agreeable minister from England.

  Five months later Sir Robert Walpole, then leader of the Cabinet, famously used the same term during a speech in the House of Commons on February 13, 1741, and thereafter it was regarded as a fundamental principle of diplomacy.

  Be afraid—be very afraid

  The statement, “Be afraid,” goes back to antiquity—to the King James Bible, Romans 13:4: “If thou do that which is evil, be afraid.” Expanding this into “be very afraid” was already occurring in the vernacular prior to its gaining major attention in the 1986 horror movie The Fly, in which teleportation goes wrong and a man becomes half-insect.

  At a key moment during the horrific transformation, the character of Veronica Quaife (Geena Davis) says, “Be afraid. Be very afraid.” The line—written by David Cronenberg, George Langelaan and Charles Edward Pogue—became part of the trailer advertising the movie internationally and quickly moved into common use.

  In time, although usage abbreviated it to the earlier short form, “Be afraid,” the connotation remained that this implied “Be very afraid.”

  (To) beard the lion in his den

  In 1808, Sir Walter Scott’s narrative poem Marmion introduced the romantic character of Lochinvar, who whisked the lady he loved away from her wedding and rode off with her into the night. A line from the poem, where two aristocratic warriors confront each other, came into common usage:

  On the Earl’s cheek the flush of rage

  O’ercame the ashen hue of age:

  Fierce he broke forth—“And dare’st thou then

  To beard the lion in his den,

  The Douglas in his hall?”

  (The) beautiful game

  Known officially as Association Football, more commonly as just football, and in the United States as soccer, the game acquired a nickname when Brazilian midfield star Waldyr Pereira, known as Didi, coined the term joga bonito, meaning “play beautifully” in Portuguese.

  In English translation it became a noun—the beautiful game—and caught on very quickly. In 1977 international football superstar Pele’s autobiography was entitled My Life and the Beautiful Game, a feature movie The Beautiful Game came out in 1999, and the Lloyd Webber-Ben Elton theater musical The Beautiful Game played in London in 2000.

  Beauty is only skin deep

  Far from being a contemporary perception, the earliest known mention of beauty’s superficiality came in 1613 when Sir Thomas Overbury wrote:

  All the carnal beauty of my wife is but skin deep, but to two senses known.

  A few years later, John Davies of Hereford in A Select Second Husband (1616) tidied up the term into the form we now use it: “Beauty is but skin deepe.”

  Because it was there

  Britain’s famous mountaineer (and colorful character) Sir George Leigh Mallory had a passionate desire to climb to the top of Mt. Everest. After a failed endeavor in 1923, he gave lectures about the Himalayas and started to plan another attempt. Asked why he’d wanted to conquer it the first time, he replied, “Because it was there.” During his 1924 attempt to reach the summit, Mallory died on the mountain.

  Twenty-nine years later the Everest summit was finally reached by Edmund Hillary and Tensing Norgay. On returning, Hillary was asked virtually the same question, “Why did you want to do it?” and replied by quoting Mallory: “Because it was there.” The mountaineering fraternity knew he was quoting Mallory, but journalists did not, and Hillary was sometimes erroneously credited with inventing the phrase.

  In 1986 Mallory’s niece Mrs. Newton Dunn wrote to the Daily Telegraph and explained that Mallory’s sister (Mrs. Dunn’s mother) had questioned his response. Mallory’s impatient comment was, “Because a silly question deserves a silly answer.”

  Beefcake

  In October 1949 an Ohio newspaper (The Chronicle Telegram of Elyria, Ohio) referred to a growing phenomenon in movies, namely that the moguls were beginning to realize that the female half of the population enjoyed seeing well-built men, so males with muscled chests were increasingly featured stripped to the waist. The Chronicle Telegram reported that cameramen had started using the term “beefcake” to describe this phenomenon. From whatever source the word arose, it came into a far wider arena after a United States coastguard named Robert Moseley made a weekend tourist visit to Hollywood and was spotted by an alert agent. Renamed Guy Madison, he appeared shirtless in his first movie in 1944, drawing thousands of letters from women and leading to a long career as a movie and television star. Hollywood historians Robert Hofler (in The Man who Invented Rock Hudson) and D.K. Holm (in You’ll Never Write a Book in this Town Again) point firmly to influential show-biz columnist Sidney Skolsky for using the term “beefcake” to describe Guy Madison, and thus putting the term into the public arena.

  See also Cheesecake

  Been there, done that

  This term of sardonic world-weariness was already in use in Australia before it reached a wider audience in 1982 when an Australian actress in America was credited with its use.

  Lauren Tewes (who played cruise director Julie McCoy in The Love Boat) was quoted in the Gettysburg Times (February 22, 1982) saying that after her divorce she had no plans to remarry:

  Using an Australian expression, she says, “Been there, done that.”

  A year later the expression appeared in Australia’s Macquarie Dictionary of New Words and has been in common use internationally ever since.

  Behind the scenes

  Clearly a great deal of necessary activity takes place behind the scenes/scenery in a theater, and always has. But it took John Dryden in An Essay of Dramatic Poesy (1668) to suggest that activities essential but unseen could be refer
red to in that way:

  But there is another sort of relations, that is, of things happening in the action of the play, and supposed to be done behind the scenes. And this is many times convenient and beautiful . . .

  From there, the phrase progressed naturally into figurative use to describe the hidden machinations of those in high places.

  Believe it or not

  The first known use of the term was in October 1919 when Robert Leroy Ripley named his New York Globe newspaper cartoon strip featuring unusual facts. Eventually the strip was seen daily, syndicated internationally, and it grew to have a reputed 80 million readers.

  There are many republished collections of the cartoon strips and the idea—and its title—gave rise to more than twenty minimovie shorts, three television series, an animated cartoon movie series, a board game, a computer contest, and thirty-five “Believe It or Not” museums around the world.

  Below the belt

  Boxing as a sport has been widely practiced since at least 3000 BC. But there were no established rules in Britain until the rise of Jack Broughton, a former rower of passengers on the Thames who became a heavyweight boxing champion.