Tom Parker Bowles: ‘The English art of the witty put down is unmatched’
To celebrate this week's 'English Issue', six individuals reflect on what being English means to them. First up: Country Life's very own Tom Parker Bowles.
The English, unlike the Inuit, may have only one word for snow, but, when it comes to the old-fashioned insult, no one else comes close. What other language has 100 words for the wrong ’un, a joyous cascade of slander, slights and the just plain rude. The English art of the witty put down is unmatched anywhere on Earth and is every bit as complex and codified as any concept of fin amor. It’s all about context and nuance, words that can both wound and warm.
To the outsider, the difference between a wally and a prat, say, is negligible, but we all know the former is a term of endearment, the latter less so. The same goes for plonker and berk or flibbertigibbet and bellend. They may all sound frightfully rude, but the Devil is, as ever, in the detail. We would cross the street to avoid a lout, hooligan or thug. But what about a rogue, rake, rotter, scoundrel or cad? All of the latter perfectly describe Rupert Campbell-Black, Jilly Cooper’s handsome hero, yet we love him all the same.
Although a dedicated follower of fashion would have no problem being called a dandy or swell, they may baulk at being described as a fop, spiv, dandiprat or peacock. An intimate understanding of the endless idiosyncrasies of the well-honed insult is something that makes us uniquely English — together with our propensity for taking nothing too seriously at all.
'Take the most offensive swear word of all... It becomes a very different creature after a few jars in the pub'
Shakespeare, of course, leads the charge. ‘Away, you starvelling, you elf-skin, you dried neat’s-tongue, bull’s-pizzle, you stock-fish!’ roars Falstaff at Prince Henry. Kent, in King Lear, goes better still. ‘Thou art a base, proud, shallow, beggarly, three-suited, hundred-pound, filthy worsted-stocking knave,’ he cries at the unlucky Oswald, ‘a lily-liver’d, action-taking, whoreson, glass-gazing, super-serviceable, finical rogue; one-trunk-inheriting slave; one that wouldst be a bawd in way of good service, and art nothing but the composition of a knave, beggar, coward, pandar, and the son and heir of a mungril bitch.’ And that’s only the start. Things don’t get any more simple when it comes to swearing.
I’ll spare your blushes with any particular examples, but swear words can express both rank disdain and utter adoration. Take the most offensive swear word of all, you know the one, a brutish, one syllable grunt. It becomes a very different creature after a few jars in the pub, when you express your undying love for your oldest mate. ‘I love you, you old…’ The Americans, of course, take a rather more puritanical view of this most medieval of cusses. It all depends on who you’re with and how you say it.
Talking of medieval, there’s a whole dastardly treasure trove of invective to be found back in the Dark Ages — churls and knaves, scolds and drivellers, fustilugs, fopdoodles and curs. These glorious slurs roll off the tongue with slanderous aplomb. The Victorians were also masters of the onomatopoeic insult, with their gollumpusses and fussocks, skilamalinks, flapdoodles, hornswogglers, foozlers and sapheads. In this ever more sanitised age, we should not shrink from the prettily profane, rather embrace it. All hail vim and vitriol, one of the insolent glories of the true English tongue.
This feature originally appeared in the June 10, 2026, issue of Country Life. Click here for more information on how to subscribe.
