This post would ideally be best suited to Tom Joad's Word du Jour, but as he's sort of given up the ghost, I will treat you to some examples of the double entendre, which is defined by the OED as
"a double meaning; a word or phrase having a double sense, especially as used to convey an indelicate meaning' [emphasis added]. In these cases, the first meaning is presumed to be the more innocent one, while the second meaning is risqué, or at least ironic, requiring the hearer to have some additional knowledge."
The fact that we choose a French expression to describe this phenomenon speaks for itself, I feel. The irony of the situation is that double entendre doesn't mean anything in French. There is an expression which means the same, but which leaves the French with quizzical faces, usually followed by a Gallic shrug.
The double entendre has been an integral part of British comedy since the days of Shakespeare, some of whose plays read like the script of an early Carry On film. In the stuffy Victorian and Edwardian times, the double entendre was the benchmark to judge which side of the class divide you were on. While the upper classes put sleeves on their piano legs and held the bedpost whilst thinking of England, the hoi polloi were rolling in the aisles of the music halls at Marie Lloyd and her lewd winks and saucy innuendo.
Now I like a Carry On film as well as the next woman, but I cannot see why someone would titter at chocolate bars called "Big Nuts" or "Cha-Cha".
A chocolate cha-cha is nothing to make light of. There is a crispbread that sounds like a reason for visiting the proctologist: "Crack' Pain" - nothing funny there. In Antwerp one of the local brews called "Bolleke" seems to be very popular with British visitors, and in France there was a brand of fizzy pop called "Pschitt" after the noise it makes when the cap is unscrewed which used to cause untold hilarity in the English quarter. Some people really need to grow up.
If the number of infantile comments on Gorilla Bananas' blog is anything to go by (the post about Fannies in particular), you bloggers have a level of humour which hasn't evolved since nursery school. I myself am far too sophisticated to find a tin of sardines funny just because it has an unfortunate name. I mean, John West might mean something rude in Chinese for all I know.
A girl walked into a bar and asked the bartender for a double entendre. So he gave her one. Pa-da-boosh!
"a double meaning; a word or phrase having a double sense, especially as used to convey an indelicate meaning' [emphasis added]. In these cases, the first meaning is presumed to be the more innocent one, while the second meaning is risqué, or at least ironic, requiring the hearer to have some additional knowledge."
The fact that we choose a French expression to describe this phenomenon speaks for itself, I feel. The irony of the situation is that double entendre doesn't mean anything in French. There is an expression which means the same, but which leaves the French with quizzical faces, usually followed by a Gallic shrug.
The double entendre has been an integral part of British comedy since the days of Shakespeare, some of whose plays read like the script of an early Carry On film. In the stuffy Victorian and Edwardian times, the double entendre was the benchmark to judge which side of the class divide you were on. While the upper classes put sleeves on their piano legs and held the bedpost whilst thinking of England, the hoi polloi were rolling in the aisles of the music halls at Marie Lloyd and her lewd winks and saucy innuendo.
Now I like a Carry On film as well as the next woman, but I cannot see why someone would titter at chocolate bars called "Big Nuts" or "Cha-Cha".
A chocolate cha-cha is nothing to make light of. There is a crispbread that sounds like a reason for visiting the proctologist: "Crack' Pain" - nothing funny there. In Antwerp one of the local brews called "Bolleke" seems to be very popular with British visitors, and in France there was a brand of fizzy pop called "Pschitt" after the noise it makes when the cap is unscrewed which used to cause untold hilarity in the English quarter. Some people really need to grow up.
If the number of infantile comments on Gorilla Bananas' blog is anything to go by (the post about Fannies in particular), you bloggers have a level of humour which hasn't evolved since nursery school. I myself am far too sophisticated to find a tin of sardines funny just because it has an unfortunate name. I mean, John West might mean something rude in Chinese for all I know.A girl walked into a bar and asked the bartender for a double entendre. So he gave her one. Pa-da-boosh!
26 comments:
Si j'ai bien compris " the double entendre " Serait-il un double langage ?
À moins que , comme me l'a fait remarquer Spanish Goth , " coucou tout le monde !" , cuckoo everybody ! Une invitation à la réflexion ?( Ça ... C'est un double langage !!)
En Français il y a , Sens propre/Sens figuré ...
Nos politiciens parlent la langue de bois , je vais donc faire de l'humour genre " école maternelle "
Geppetto n'a pas crée Sarkozy , ce n'est qu'une illusion !
Moins amusant sont les "Les homonymes"
Ca me tente d'aller sous la tente avec ma tante!
Il est sot avec son seau.
Mon père perd sa paire de chaussettes tous les soirs.
Deux formes linguistiques qui ont la même forme graphique et des sens différents sont dites homographes; Marc ne boit pas le marc.Tu ne vas pas flipper en jouant au flipper !
Je bus en vitesse "car" le bus arrivait.( tu constate quand même que mon esprit est tordu ) Car " voiture ".
Les homographes sont des homonymes.
Tu préfères sûrement cet humour ??
"J'ai la vue qui baisse de jour en jour. Bientôt je vais devoir porter des lentilles de contact pour voir mes lunettes."
"Si Dieu avait voulu qu'on aille à la messe, il aurait fait les bancs d'église plus confortables !"
It seems you've piqued Crabtree's interest. That post wasn't about Fannies, but everyone used it as an excuse to mention the rudest names they'd come across. Joan Sims wasn't a bad-looking woman in her day.
Crabtree, ça te fait pas ricaner Sean Connerie, Truman Capote, le footballeur Cocu, ou Julia les Roberts? L'important avec le double entendre, c'est de laisser sous-entendre quelque chose de salace ou de scato. Dans l'anti-intellectuel, les anglais ont la médaille d'or!
GB, Crabbers is being coy, I sense. The French loved Benny Hill.
My goodness, how very childish!
Sean Connerie, Truman Capote, le footballeur Cocu, ou Julia les Roberts , certainement que ça me fait rire !
It is one games to us too, the bawdiness is Gallic sports.
I did not dare ,but now that you the said ? I do my virtuousness and Benny Hill in the cupboard !
English version for Gorilla
Of name without particles ! BASTARD ,CASCOUILLE ( BREAK BALL),DEPETASSE ( of slut),LAPUTE( the whore) and then APOIL( in the nude) ,BRISECUL ,DEMONCUL,GROSSEIN ...CACA (POOP), ZIZI ( penis)et LACROTTE ( EXCREMENT)surnames are also ,I been persuaded that there was when France !?
I has left with Aptonymes
History takes place in the prefecture
- good morning mister!
- I come to change my name
- Yes, certainly, how you call to you?
- André Aivuapoil
- And how please be now called
- Jean Aivuapoil
Monsieur et Madame Aibonne ont une fille ?
Raquel (Rhààààà... qu'elle est bonne)
Monsieur et Madame Amar ont deux fils et trois filles ?
Ella ,Pacôme,Ancel ,Hélène ,Nadège (Elle a pas commencé, elle en a déjà marre)
Monsieur et Madame Alor ont un fils ?
Robin (Rhoooooh ! ben alors ?)
Lady Di et David Bowie ont eu deux fils ?
Alain Di et Bowie Kent (À Lundi et bon week-end)
I think you should get laid and stop pissing about with dictionaries.
Hmmm - can't think of the other meaning for this one......
Mr and Mrs That-Hole-In-The-Ground-Can't-Be-A-Toilet and their rather prim daughter Shirley. Etc. (Do you get I'm Sorry I Haven't a Clue in Belgium??)
....Here's Jacques Delors and his mother - Mere Delors!*
* (I think you've got to say it out loud).
Daphne, I may have to fly to Bruges (in Belgium) soon and I wondered if you could put me on the right bus with regards to an good hotel. Don't worry, the company's paying and the more select the better, the last thing we want are the local press getting a sniff of any problems with the eurofighter. I mean, lets build a plane but spread the bits over half the continent. What were they thinking?
Any suggestions? A good eaterie would be handy as well. You just wouldn't believe it, but some people don't even realise that somebody somewhere has to actually put all this stuff together! What did they think: the brownies did it or something?
Any help greatly appreciated.
Big nuts? You see, as an engineer, that works on so many levels with me.
Bring me the head of Alfredo Giant-butter-mountain?
And would you please put your hands together for our band this evening. It's a punk tribute band the UK Subs-idy
I'll get me coat.
But the first act this evening is another tribute band, big it up for, The Straightened Banana Splits...
sorry, can't find my cloakroom ticket.
Oh, here are some more late arrivals:
please welcome from Spain, Mr and Mrs Tory-Al Fishing Waters, and their son, Terry.
aye thang yew.
Crabtree, sans oublier Defesses (Bum). Le magasin francais pour nouveaux-nes Baby-Bum me fait sourire aussi. Boum s'ecrivant Boom en anglais.
Goth, if only my dear. I can't bring any men back here, it would upset you-know-who.
Gadjo, ISIHAC is far too intellectual for this crowd. We used to play Mornington Crescent on Aunty M's blog, sadly she has stopped blogging. Perhaps I should start a game on mine? It certainly gets the numbers on the comments box into the high 20s.
Doc, thank you for filling up my box! (ha ha did you see what I did there?) Re Bruges, you will more likely fly to Brussels if anywhere, as I don't think Bruges has got an airport. It's got more posh hotels than I've got umbrellas, and plenty of excellent restaurants. As it's only an hour or so from Brussels on the train I have never stayed overnight so can't recommend anything but have a look at www.Visit-Bruges.com. If you can wangle an overnight in Brussels I will take you out for mussels and beer to make up for that box of chocolates I never sent you. If you can get me a date with a Eurofighter pilot I'll throw in chips as well.
Well obviously I could have googled it. I've been boasting all week that I have an in as far as Belgium is concerned. Listen never mind the pilots, they're all gay, what; you didn't know? Jesus Maria! Where have you been? All I need is some snappy hotels to choose from. I'd do it for you. Christ, I'd even turn up, if you could drag yourself above 47 degrees north. Never mind that the now, come on , be a pet and give me a name.
I think I've grown out of double entendres but once disgraced myself at a lecture at the Art's Club when a frightfully refined gentleman gave a definition of love as pursuit of the whole. I know - I'm ashamed.
You're forgetting Bum crisps (from Spain), Kräpp toilet paper (from Sweden) and - so beloved of Graham Norton - a brand of sardines called Fanny.
Also from the inestimable Mr Norton - South African Salty Cracks.
What about Mr & Mrs Champions and their diminutive son Wee Arthur?
I hope you will have taken good note of how I immediately try to raise the tone when the conversation is dragged to the gutter, which is all too often in recent weeks. Dr Maroon, I own a small but expensive house on the Schaarstraat in Bruges; I am there five times a year (for the Holy Blood in May; and to get my roots done by De Ridder when necessary). I would be happy to put you up, gratis, when you visit, and to go down, when necessary, to places of interest as required. Do let me know, CLdeM Pouncer
Maroon -- try the Best Western. Or Mrs Pouncer's B&B. Look, I can't help it if I've never stayed in Bruges. I'm asking around for you. Don't bring religion into it.
Pat, that was snortworthy. I could hardly keep a straight face yesterday when Bert told me his strategy for giving up smoking was to constantly be sucking a Fisherman's Friend.
Autolycus and Farty - that's the spirit! Graham Norton is a true son, so to speak, of Kenneth Williams, although I find Julian Clary has more style. I don't know how he gets away with that column in the New Statesman. Thank God for our gay friends, without whom there would be no innuendo left.
Mrs P, you know how to appeal to a Scotsman - with an offer of free accommodation. Do be careful - that's how I got stuck with McChe.
What an offer Mrs Pouncer. I'm not worthy! Once again you have shown me how accomodating you are. My finance director had suggested "Le Coq Sportif" one of those flashy millenium lifestyle hotels, but I shall cancel and the cock's loss shall be our gain.
A thousand pardons Daphne. I was exited with strong drink. I notice we passed in the aether.
All will be fine I am sure. If you want McChe removed, just drop me the nod.
Hi Daffers,
Tom here - posting anonymously as I have to faff around changing ID's and such. Life sure gets tedious...
While it's true I have taken a temporary hiatus from blogging about words, I have kept the site up just because I like it. One of these fine days, I'll get back in the saddle.
With regard to your post; you may have your knockers, but I think you're OK :-)
Doble entendres really are the gift that keeps on giving...
Julian Clary's column's in the New Statesman? Does the News of the World know?
That's the spirit! Keep it up, boys.
Maroon, bring an extra-large empty holdall to Bruges. I will get McChe drunk and you can take him back to his natural habitat and return him gently to the wild, somewhere south of Sauchiehall Street if I'm not mistaken. I guarantee he will emerge with his can of Special Brew still upright. (No, that's not meant to be a double entendre).
Tom, I didn't realize you were familiar with my knockers.
Autolycus, you may read all of Julian's emissions here. His autobiography was called "A Young Man's Passage". Touching.
Penis.
Vagina.
Do I win an award for edgy humour now ?
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