A Tidiness of Collected Nouns
I was out for a walk in Ojai the other day when I began to wonder what the collective noun for a group of housewives would be? Bearing in mind this is Southern California, the possibilities are many. While we are all individuals in our housewiffery I think it’s fair to say we do break down along certain lines. For example, the polish of housewives parking their shiny SUVs outside the manicure salon didn’t seem to have an awful lot in common with the hairiness of housewives by the organic kumquat and patchouli stall at the farmer’s market.
I continued my walk.
Passing a cleavage of builder’s bums (each one peeking cheekily out into the SoCal sunshine as their oblivious owners bent to their tasks), I considered the fact that we all belong, in our various ways, to someone else’s collective noun “cloud” and have very little say in what their chosen collective noun says about us. This can be a discomfiting thought in the wrong mood leading to dark self-doubt, especially should you find yourself unhappily placed in someone else’s idea of, say, a bleating of bloggers or an abomination of Scottish people or a bevy of barflies (formally of course a beverage of imbibers but if you’re going to damn someone for membership in a group you disapprove of, for a caprice of gods’ sakes do it with feeling in the vernacular).
Of course, should one find oneself numbering in something flattering and lovely like a ballet of barflies or a sigh of lovers or a whisking of wordsmiths or a gentleness of dentists it could well lead to a twinkling/smugness of feelings of well-being and self-worth.
Continuing down the road to the letterbox, I passed a campaign of pigeons marching solemnly (although not very uniformly or straightly, it has to be said) to show their support or abhorence of whatever it was that was on their minds; I couldn’t read the writing on their tiny placards. For some, I don’t think their hearts were truly in calling for justice/more millet/death to seagulls, and the throatier members of the horniness of he-pigeons were clearly not there to uphold (or smash) any real ideals. Rather, they seemed to be just looking to get lucky with the earnest, young female pigeons peck, peck, pecking for The Cause, their minds on a higher purpose leaving them therefore unguarded against the amorous advances and beguiling words of a randy he-pigeon.
My winging of letters posted, (allright, fine, my bendover of bills posted; never actually write letters these days, its all email, innit?) I turned and made my way back to the car waving to a song of children and their hover of mothers in the park. How neat and tidy it is to collect one’s nouns, I thought to myself, and not have them lying around all willy-nilly in the manner of some slattern who doesn’t care who stubs their toe on her sentences. Then I thought, what a municipal-water-cleaning-facility of shit you think about sometimes, Sam, – determining right then and there to add it to my a-a-atishoo of posts. (I do beg your pardon.)
My question is what would be the collective noun for people who do what you do all day?
Footles, an inkling of private detectives, a hunger of podophages?
An orange cone of safety inspectors, SafeT?
A bewilderment of bewilderbeast, Nanas?
fmc – tell Memnoch he’s spawned an arse-kicking of fmc readers ready to hide his gym shoes and spike his spirulena shakes with rum.
September 5th, 2006 at 11:12 am
Housewiven! Its gotta be housewiven!
Craven of SafeTinspectors might fit.
As for bloggers, perhaps a Kittenhood. A kittenhood of bloggers.
Your Ojai reverse cleavage imagery was a fun one to read whilst eating breakfast.
September 5th, 2006 at 12:33 pm
A trench of archaeologists would describe the folk I used to work with. Although is some cases A grave of archaeologists would have been better.
September 5th, 2006 at 12:34 pm
A trench of archaeologists would describe the folk I used to work with. Although in some cases A grave of archaeologists would have been better.
September 5th, 2006 at 12:34 pm
ooops
September 5th, 2006 at 2:02 pm
A bevy of alcoholics. A rash of rum tipplers. Ooops, work, yes well, an arcadia of artyfolk.
And don’t you worry I”m sure the cornucopia of dickhead that is Memnoch will be trembling in his two-toed slipers right about the moment you typed that.
September 5th, 2006 at 3:44 pm
A bickering of playground intellectuals.
September 5th, 2006 at 4:08 pm
“Bevy of Aldoholics?” At last I have an identity!
A snickering of observers?
September 5th, 2006 at 10:11 pm
A dustcloud of wildebeest, maybe. A haggle of housewives? Or is it a haggle of fishwives?
September 6th, 2006 at 12:25 am
Great suggestions peeps. Keep ‘em coming. I’ve half an idea to assemble a wee compendium of the suggestions from this post.
I’ve just come back from Kim’s site (The Bearded One on my link sidebar) where the conversation today is philosophical, and thought of this one: a beard of philosophers. It might not work because women can be philosphers too so that could be broadened to an unshavedness of philosophers or perhaps just a hirsutity of philosophers to allow the ladies a seat at the table.
September 6th, 2006 at 10:39 am
This is inspiring, but all I can think of is a cackle of copywriters. And maybe a pinguid pightle of media planners.
September 6th, 2006 at 11:20 am
A tidal pool of toxicologic pathologists… Rolls off the tongue, dunnit ? My bad for having a hyphenated job.
September 6th, 2006 at 1:34 pm
Seeing as I do nothing all day, how about A Waste Of Space?
Hold on, that doesn’t work.
Erm, I’m unique. There are no collective nouns for people like me. A singularity of solitary writers? A daydream of dossers? A quarrel of cranky QOTSA listeners?
September 6th, 2006 at 3:43 pm
A gaggle of googlers? As he goes off to look up QOTSA!
September 6th, 2006 at 3:49 pm
Would a Plurailty of Philosophers be more appropriate?
I don’t know, all this deep thinking when I’m sober, hurts the brain!
September 6th, 2006 at 3:50 pm
Plurality even! Can’t spell when I’m sober!
September 6th, 2006 at 4:13 pm
Don’t worry ducky, can’t spell either, especially when sober.
September 6th, 2006 at 6:53 pm
A mardy (ie?) of teens.
September 6th, 2006 at 9:03 pm
A walk in sunny California?
An envy of Scotch.
What do we do all day?
A miasma of meetings, a colon of finance directors, a disturbance of project managers, a flounce of office girls, a cantankary of canteen staff, (soup and a pudding is NOT a dinner), a wacky races of cars on the highway, a sufficiency of drinks before during and after dinner, a no fucking chance of conjugal rites [sic], a resignation of comments, and so to bed.
Scotland won 2:1 tonight, so it ain?t all bad.
September 6th, 2006 at 9:11 pm
I swear Docky, If I wasn’t engaged I’d find you and nibble the whole of your lobe.
September 6th, 2006 at 9:27 pm
FMC, You Dr Maroon and PCB are my kind of people! Now where did I put that bottle…..:)
September 7th, 2006 at 9:12 am
A palette of artists…..an exhaustion of housewives,
a bi-polarity of bloggers.
September 7th, 2006 at 11:47 am
A block of solitary writers!
An excess of dieticians!
A column of journalists!
or should that be a calumnity of journalists?
September 7th, 2006 at 1:25 pm
I work with (among others) a Waggle of Writers who Witness sometimes Wearily for all the World to Wead (oops read).
September 7th, 2006 at 2:01 pm
A snooze of lazybones? zzzzzzzzzzzz
September 7th, 2006 at 2:25 pm
An idiolect of immigrants. A Jaundice of researchers. A couple of tits (does that count?)
September 7th, 2006 at 2:52 pm
A Plague/Rash/Cesspit of . . . . Lawyers?
Cheers.
September 7th, 2006 at 3:07 pm
A shoddy of shoe-buyers.
A filly of fanciful fraught hussies…who should be working! Damn you Sam, damn you to jellybaby hell! (where all their heads have already been chewed off)
September 7th, 2006 at 3:41 pm
A host of presenters?
September 7th, 2006 at 3:46 pm
A trug of gardeners.
A punn(et) of berry pickers.
A nap(py) of (headless) Jellybabies.
September 7th, 2006 at 7:26 pm
Brilliant!
You lot are:
A quip of commentators,
A refulgence of repliers,
A perspicacity of posters.
I loves the lot of you. My favourite by the tiniest of squeaks might be a snickering of observers, but it’s close.
But just to be topical, why don’t we all give Germaine Greer a stonking great round of applause on her newly minted membership in not only a venom of irrelevants, but also a repugnance of rent-a-quoters AND a discordancy of controversy-courters. It’s apparantly all in a days work for Greer, The Sneer, a woman I intuitively dislike but have defended in the past on some things.
She may well have a point about Steve Irwin harrassing animals, I’m not qualified to say, but her timing is lousy, her sentiments, at best, shrill and ungenerous, and her language about a man not yet cold, crass and contemptible.
She had not one good word to say about a bloke who undoubtedly did much that was good for education, wildlife and the environment in his life. Nice days’s work, Germie.
September 7th, 2006 at 9:02 pm
PCB,
You?re right but the real problem is not Greer the Sneer. She has always been an obnoxious person with a big ego and mouth to match. She has just been careful enough to align these with issues that may have validity, making her difficult to challenge.
The real problem is that Steve?s death became a major media hype that in turn gave her a platform to air some very bad comments. It also spawned (within hours) some very sad, bad and on occasion sick jokes across quite a broad spectrum of the Internet. I had a real go at some bloggers over this as being totally disrespectful and hurtful to his family. While they took my point most of them justified it by the fact they didn?t know him personally, he courted publicity, was obviously a thrill seeker, his wife frequently joined him and if it was good enough for the mainstream media?..! I found it even more horrifying that more people sided with the bloggers view than mine! It is so wrong!
There are people dying ever day in obscene circumstances across the world – just look at the Middle East, Africa, Asia, never mind closer to home and it hardly gets any news cover. It?s old hat, the public doesn?t want to know, shut it away. Give them a minor personality and a bizarre death and they are lapping it up, looking for more!
That?s the real problem, educating a worldwide public to care more about ordinary peoples day to day lives than media personalities and media hype! The more we advance as a society the more backward we seem to become.
September 7th, 2006 at 9:09 pm
Sorry that’s a bit long!
I also forgot to make it clear that I too consider Steve’s death to be a sad loss, both to his family and to the fields of wildlife, education and environment.
I’ll shut up now!
September 7th, 2006 at 10:44 pm
At the end of the the day Steve was a husband and a father to two small kids. If Germaine the pain can’t see past that then she is more to be pitied than laughed at.
September 7th, 2006 at 11:49 pm
A mat of beards
September 8th, 2006 at 6:56 pm
Sam/PCB
I love your style of writing, evocative, interesting, unusual, but so, so gifted! When can we have some more?
How come it?s ok for women to look at
?Passing a cleavage of builder?s bums (each one peeking cheekily out into the SoCal sunshine as their oblivious owners bent to their tasks).?
But if old farts like me look at a younger female with pre-shrunk clothing and bits (top and bottom) hanging out we?re an old letch? Or worse still a dirty old man! (I do wash daily)
I?m still waiting for chapter 2 of your launch into slavery and ultimate escape to freedom by taking up with an older man. (He?s even older than me ? hope springs eternally!)
In the meantime, don?t let the world get you down, do have faith in your talents and help keep your friends entertained by giving us another snippet of your incredible imagination!
I also have a soft spot for talking horses!
September 8th, 2006 at 9:17 pm
A Song of Singers
A Carpet of Carpenters
A Wiggle of Women
A Harem of Hebrideans
September 9th, 2006 at 3:28 pm
Hello lovie, I know your feelin’ crook, so come on over. There’s beer and biscuits, well there was, but we ate them all, but there is sympathy.
September 9th, 2006 at 6:54 pm
Today would have been a cup of cooks, a frame of photographers and of course a brilliance of bloggers, for all the great posts I’ve been reading.
September 11th, 2006 at 7:39 am
a spitting of llamas.
a stroking of cats.
ps charlie (a 9 week cocker spaniel) the new addition to the furry family says hello. well actually he says woof woof and then tries to bite my achilles tendon but that roughly translates to hello i believe.
September 11th, 2006 at 11:21 am
An objection of solicitors.
A gavel of judges.
A horror of Toffee.
September 11th, 2006 at 5:18 pm
Kim, formally of course, a Matthew of beards.
Tattieheid, thank-you for your lovely words. They cheered me no end. What I want to know is where your blog is? I’d like to read that. It’s easy to set up you know. You’re right, of course, about the double standards on leering. I don’t think women are naturally as…erm…gifted as men at ogling totty though. I’ve always preferred the more mature man, myself. There are a lot of women who do, you know which is hardly fair as men amost never look at women over a certain age if there is younger meat in the room, no matter what the younger meat actually looks like. Youth trumps most. Now where’s that blog?? I’ve tried to snoop you out but sitemeter only gives me the location of servers and I still can’t tell where your’s is. West Midlands somewhere, I think. Thanks again, sweetie-pie, you’ve made a blogger mammy happy.
Noners, a wiggle of women! I love that! That is brilliant.
Fmc, I love it round at yours, I feel all familiar and kitchen-tabley there with a drink in one hand, a bun in the other and God only knows where the conversation will go. I plan to come to Dublin one of these days and before I do anthing else I’ll be visiting you. Lock up your gin. I’m not even going to ask what kind of a day you’ve had to come up with your last 3 collective nouns – I hope they’re not linked in some sort of ghastly confectionary misdemeanour – but my God, woman, a horror of toffee? Are you ill?
Kit, a beatitude of bakers? An lament of broken kitchen timers? A profusion of profiteroles?
Mr. Furry you incorrigible sicko, you (fondly tousling your hair). I return Charlie’s greeting and commend him on his fine ankle work. How’s the house-training going? And is Charlie doing well with his too? I give you a misdemeanour of Charlie owners. And a rehabilitation of strokers. Do the authorities know you have a dog? Has David Attenborough been notified? Rolf Harris?
September 11th, 2006 at 5:21 pm
An anorak of train-spotters
A raiment of disguises
A cloak of assassins
September 11th, 2006 at 6:53 pm
Capital T Lovie, it’s Etheline’s bloomin’ hound. Lock up the gin? Ha-har and snarf! I will do no such thing. Oh Dublin, so green, so rainy, so full of striking yet surprisingly rich taxi drivers, chuggers (charity muggers) and ‘zany’ actors trying to get you to come see their free and painful plays.
Huzzah, there’s no place like home!
September 12th, 2006 at 2:52 pm
Oooooh I’ve jus got the ‘bevy’ one. Well done FMC! I’m not being patronising or pompous – just feel thick today. No comments please
September 12th, 2006 at 2:59 pm
A Grumble of Grandmas? A Pride of New Dads? A Stink of Old Farts?
September 12th, 2006 at 10:00 pm
Mine would be: “A Stepford of Wives”