Business Speak
By Jonny Dee

The Brother has a view on modern verbiage
++
Now, câmere âtil I tell you this.
Iâm all ears. What is it?
The brother has barred himself from watching television above in the digs.
Excuse me?
Barred himself for the foreseeable future on account of him having been roaring at the TV in the residentsâ lounge, man.
Did he see something thatâs not to his taste on television?
Begob, donât start me now, for practically everything thatâs on there is not to the brotherâs taste at all.
That must be most perplexing for him, as so much of oneâs popular entertainment these days is provided by that very device.
Well, itâs not so much the content of the programming if you understand me. The brother has no real beef about that as such. No, itâs more about these-Hop-o-me-thumbs who do be talking rubbidge left right and centre. Seem to speak in riddles inshtead of good clear speech. And the brother has had enough of it.
Ah, I see.
The brother is a stickler for a body saying what they mean. Canât abide this modern class of nonsense thatâs becoming part and parcel of daily discourse. And do you know who the brother blames it all on?
I could not even begin to guess.
Why, all of them lads in the world of commerce and big business. Thatâs who. Man, you should hear the brother about them when he gets warmed up on the subject. Says that theyâre responsible for our langwidge being destroyed and totally murdered with vacuous mumbo-jumbo and business speak thatâs crept into the everyday conversation.
It can, of course, rub some people up the wrong way.
Indeed, and it can. Now take the word âleverageâ for an example. Bedamn, itâs like a red rag to a bull every time the brother hears it used. Says he, and I am in full agreement with him here, âWhen did leverage ever become a verb?â.
Well, yes. Quite so.
There was some eejit there the other night, on the main news now, talking about âlev-ridging, the position of IMFâ. Well, when the brother heard that he near flung the coal scuttle at the screen. Livid, he was. Sure I thought he was going to take to the drink over it, and him not supping a drop on account of it being Lent. Puce with rage and roaring at the set he was.
Most vexing for the poor fellow, for sure.
Thatâs not the half of it. âItâs leverage! Not lev-ridge you gombeen. No hyphen and itâs not a verb,â he roars. And werenât all of them in the lounge looking at him like he was going mad?
Is that right?
Oh, it is indeed, but he was only getting started. For didnât the next item nearly send him over the top completely? Sure, it was so bad the landlady had her finger hovering over 999 ready to call the ambulance. Thought the brother was going to self-combust she did.
Goodness, what was it that got him into such an agitated state?
Going forward! Thatâs what did it.
Iâm sorry, but I donât follow you.
Going forward, man. GOING FORWARD. There was this young one on jawing about something or other and begob, do you think she could say the simple phrase: âfrom now onâ? Not the bit of her. Every second utterance was âgoing forwardâ.
Yer man doing the interview would be asking her something about such-and-such and nearly every reply started with âGoing forward.â The ones that didnât began with âsoâ. Now, and hereâs another thing. What he calls âthe proliferation of âsoâ really gets the brotherâs goat, too. But thatâs maybes something for another day.
Annyway, wasnât there one answer that nearly tipped the scales of the brotherâs sanity. Sure he had to be restrained from unplugging the set and hurling it out the window.
Most perplexing indeed.
Yer man asks yer wan, âWhat can be done to improve the overall position?â Well, she got as far as, âGoing forward, we must lev-ridge theâŠâ
Oh dear. That can’t have been to your brother’s liking at all.
Who are you telling? All hell broke loose. The brother was out of the seat like a pheasant put up be the beaters, and heading towards the set with murder on his mind. Luckily the big fella who works at the bank rugby tackled him to the floor or the landladyâs 52-inch plasma wouldâve been destroyed.
But it was touch and go I can tell you. The brother was a gibbering wreck.
Where the Guards called?
No, the residents somehow calmed him down, insisting he took a small whiskey to settle his nerves. Lent or no Lent, do you see?
The landlady marched him up to see the doctor the next day, and the upshot is heâs taking up the Yoga in the hope of being able to find some class of inner tranquillity. Hence, he has barred himself from the TV lounge in the meantime.
A sensible precaution, Iâm sure.
Iâd say it is. The brother is a man who sticks to his guns, and he doesnât want to be upsetting the equilibrium at the digs. Heâll be keeping himself to himself for a while now and maybe taking a course of nerve tablets, too.
I shall pray his soul finds peace again.
Ah, Iâll tell him, so. Annyway, hereâs me bus. Cheerio
.
The pebble skimmed the surface ten times before running out of momentum, then seeming to flounder for a split second, sank into the dark still lake sending ripples…
Flann O’Brien’s much-loved character – The Brother – transported to the 21st century. What would he make of contemporary trends and fads? This episode imagines his reaction to…