Alderman, subs. (popular).—1. A half-crown. This term is explained by
Brewer as containing an allusion to the fact that an alderman is a kind
of half-king, whatever that may mean.
1857. Snowden, Mag. Assistant, 3 ed., p. 444. Two shillings and
sixpence—alderman.
2. A long pipe; also called a churchwarden (q.v.); in both instances
the name is probably an allusion to the penchant these personages had
at one time for the long clay.
1859. Fairholt, Tobacco (1876), 173. Such long pipes were
reverently termed alderman in the last age, and irreverently yards
of clay in the present one.
3. A turkey; a variant is an alderman in chains; i.e., a roast turkey
well stuffed and garnished with sausages. The latter are said to be
emblematical of the gold chain worn by the civic dignitary—what then
about the stuffing?
1782. George Parker, Humorous Sketches, p. 31. Nick often eat a
roast fowl and sausage with me, which in cant is called an
alderman, double slang’d.
4. (thieves’).—A jemmy (q.v.); sometimes alderman jemmy. A weightier
tool is called a Lord Mayor, whereby it is clear that the criminal
classes are not without some kind of respect for the city fathers. The
tool is used for burglary purposes.
1883. Daily Telegraph, May 14, p. 3, col. 7. A complete set of
safe-breaking tools had been used and left behind, including
wedges, an alderman jemmy, a hammer weighing 14 lbs.
1888. Saturday Review, 15 Dec, p. 719. One side of slang was
illustrated by the burglar Casey in a well-known case of robbery in
the City some years ago, who explained in Court that the big jemmy
with which iron shutters were prised open was called the
‘alderman,’ adding, ‘it would never do to be talking about crowbars
in the street.’
5. Blood and guts alderman, subs. phr. (popular).—A pompous man; one
with a ‘corporation.’ The allusion is to the alleged or real
over-eating and drinking of aldermen as a class.
Alderman Lushington, subs. (Australian).—Intoxicating beverages.
Alderman’s Pace.—A slow and stately gait, like that of a burly man as
aldermen are generally represented. The French have an equivalent
phrase, pas d’abbé.
Aldgate. A draught on the pump at Aldgate, subs. phr. (commercial).—A
bad bill of exchange. A play on the word ‘draught.’
Alecampane.—See Allacompain.
Alecie, Alecy, subs. (old nonce words) [from ale + suffix cie or cy, as
in ‘lunacy’].—The state of being under the influence of ale;
drunkenness; also balmyness.
1594. J. Lyly, Mother Bombie, cc. 9. If he had arrested a mare
instead of a horse, it had beene a slight oversight, but to arrest
a man, that hath no likenesse of a horse, is flat lunasie, or
alecie.
Ale-Draper, subs. (old) [from ale + draper as in linen-draper].—A
humorous title for an alehouse keeper; probably from the ancient custom
of measuring ale by the yard. It long survived dialectically, but is
now obsolete. Synonyms were rum-cull, and squirt-quester (q.v.).
1593. Henry Chettle, Kinde-Harts Dreame. Two milch maydens that had
set up a shoppe of ale-drapery.
1747. In Parish Register of Scotter, Linc. [Buried], July 8th,
Thomas Broughton, Farmer and Ale Draper.
Ale-Knight, subs. phr. (old) [from ale + knight, used derisively].—A
tippler; a boon companion.
1575. Eccl. Proc., Chester. [The Vicar of Whalley, Lanc., is
charged with being a common dronker and ale knight.]
1654. Witt’s Recreations.
Come all you brave wights,
That are dubbed ale-knights
Now set out youselves in fight:
And let them that crack
In the praises of sack,
Know malt is of mickle might.
1863–64. Chambers’ Bk. of Days, ii., 597. This man was a regularly
dubbed ale-knight, loved barley wine to the full.
Ales, subs. (Stock Exchange).—The shares in the brewery business of S.
Allsopp and Sons, Limited, are thus known.
Ale Spinner, subs. phr. (old) [from ale + spinner, a manufacturer or
producer].—A brewer or publican.
Alexandra Limp, subs. (popular).—The name given to an erstwhile fit of
semi-imbecility on the part of ‘Society.’ The Princess of Wales,
through a slight infirmity, walks with a suspicion of lameness, and
servile imitation of everything pertaining to royalty caused the sudden
appearance (circa 1860–70) of a crowd of limping petticoated toadies.
The craze passed away as suddenly as it came. Cf., Grecian bend.
1876. Chambers’ Journal, No. 629. Your own advocacy of the Grecian
bend and the Alexandra limp—both positive and practical imitations
of physical affliction. [h.]
Alfred David, subs. (common).—An affidavit—obviously a humorous
corruption in pronunciation; also affidavy; and, by an extended process
of curtailment, davy. All are common colloquialisms among the
uneducated classes. After-davy is likewise occasionally heard,
generally in connection with a person in extremis.
Algerine, subs. (theat.).—A member of a company who, when ‘the ghost’
cannot be induced to walk, i.e., when the exchequer is low, and
salaries are not paid, ‘remonstrates’ with the manager. The term is
also used to designate the hard-up borrower of petty sums.
Alive and Kicking, adv. phr. (popular).—An intensive form of ‘alive’ in
its most colloquial sense of being alert and full of action. In the
days of Pierce Egan’s Tom and Jerry, alive partook far more of the
nature of slang than now. Sometimes all alive and kicking is varied by
all alivo; knowing; all fly. The allusion is to a child in the womb
after quickening.
1889. Globe, Oct. 4, p. 1, col. 3. Next day there appeared a letter
from a Mr. Basil Watts Phillips, who proclaimed himself as a son of
the playwright, and stated, moreover, that his mother, the
playwright’s widow, as well as another son, named Gordon, were—to
use a popular phrase—‘alive and kicking.’ Miss Emma, therefore,
could hardly be recognised, with fairness, as the ‘only living
representative of the late Watts Phillips.’
Allacompain, subs. (rhyming slang).—Forms: alacompain, alicumpane,
elecampain, etc. 1. In the so-called rhyming slang this is the
equivalent of rain.
2. (common).—Candy supposed to be made from the root of inula helenium
or bellwort; it contains, however, little else than colored sugar.
All A-Float, subs. (rhyming slang).—A coat.
All Alive, adv. and adj. (tailors’).—Ill-made garments, and ‘misfits,’
are said to be all alive.
All Along Of (vulgarism).—On account of; by reason of, etc.
All-a-Mort.—See Amort.
All Around Sports, sub. (American).—Obviously a corruption of ‘all
round sportsmen,’ i.e., men whose interest in sport is catholic, and
all embracing.
All at Sea, adv. phr. (popular).—In an uncertain, vague condition. Of
nautical origin, and perhaps more colloquial than slang; equivalent to
all abroad (q.v.).
All Brandy, adv. phr. (common).—When it is desired to commend or speak
well of anything it is said to be all brandy. The use of such a term
suggests curious reflections upon the drinking habits of those who
employ it.
Synonyms. A1; the pure quill; about east; about right; at par; the
cheese.
All Dickey.—See Dickey.
Alleviator, subs. (common).—A drink; refreshment.
1846. Mark Lemon, Golden Fetters. If any of you feel thirsty after
this exciting interview, I shall be happy to stand an alleviator.
Synonyms. Gargle; smile; Alderman Lushington; long sleeved ’un
(Australian, when taken from a long glass); shout; etc.—See Gargle.
Alley, Ally, Alay, subs. (schoolboys’ term).—A superior kind of marble.
Supposed to be a corrupted and abbreviated form of ‘alabaster,’ of
which these superior kind of marbles are sometimes made. Alley is the
name given to the medium sizes, smaller ones being called mivvies
(q.v.), and the largest bonces (q.v.). The word sometimes appears as
alley tor, or alley taw. De Foe, in ‘Duncan Campbell,’ as early as
1720, speaks of a large bag of marbles and alleys, and at that time the
term was considered vulgar. It is interesting to note that the supposed
derivation of alley from alabaster is borne out by the fact, that among
school-boys stone marbles are called stoneys (q.v.), and clay ones
commoneys (q.v.). Additional weight is also given to the accuracy of
this derivation, when it is remembered that what are known as ‘Dutch
alleys’ (q.v.), are only stoneys enamelled or glazed different colours.
In old Berlin slang, alley tors were known as Kalbacher.
All-Fired, adj. All-Firedly, adv. (American).—Thought by most to be a
Puritanical corruption of ‘hell-fired,’ and in that respect a profane
euphemistic adjective. In this connection it carries with it the
meaning of ‘immense,’ ‘excessive,’ or ‘inordinate’ in general; but, of
course, the primary signification of this corruption is perfectly
obvious. Some, however, think the word may be taken at its face value
[all + fire + ed.], an intensitive of the merely rhetorical fire.
Common now on both sides of the Atlantic.
1755. The World, No. 140. How arbitrary is language! and how does
the custom of mankind join words, that reason has put asunder! Thus
we often hear of hell-fire cold, of devilish handsome, and the
like.
1835. Haliburton, Clockmaker, 1 S., ch. xxiv. ‘Look at that ’ere
Dives,’ they say, ‘what an all-fired scrape he got into by his
avarice with Lazarus.’
1861. Hughes, Tom Brown at Oxford, ch. xl. ‘I knows I be so
all-fired jealous; I can’t abear to hear o’ her talkin’, let alone
writin’ to——’
1883. James Payn, Thicker than Water, ch. xvii. ‘Well,’ he said ...
‘you’ve been an all-fired time you have in selling those jars.’
All Fly.—See Fly.
All Fours. To go or be on all fours, verb. phr. (popular).—From the
four legs of a quadruped, or the two legs and two arms of a child or
man. Hence to go on all fours is to go evenly, the figure of speech
presented being the reverse of limping like a lame dog. Thence follows
the metaphorical use of the phrase in the sense of exact analogy and
similarity of relation. It is thus synonymous with ‘as like as two
peas’ (the French say, comme deux gouttes d’eau, as like as two drops
of water); ‘a chip of the old block’; a ‘Chinese copy,’ etc. At the
same time, a show of probability must be conceded to those philologists
who refer the phrase to the masonic symbol of the square, emblematic of
harmony and completeness. Possibly masons gave its use a fresh impetus.
All Gammon! phr. (common).—All nonsense; rubbish!—See All my eye.
All Gay, adv. (thieves’).—All serene; all right; the coast is clear.
The French voleur says, c’est franco!
All-Get-Out, phr. (American).—That beats all-get-out, is an old retort
to any extravagant story or assertion. Barrère says, ‘oh, get out!’
appears to have suggested the phrase, which is, perhaps, not altogether
obvious.
All Hands to the Pump, verb. phr. (old).—An expression borrowed from
seafaring life, signifying concentration of energy in any one
direction. Now-a-days we say, ‘a long pull, a strong pull, and a pull
altogether’; this also is a sailor’s phrase.
All Holiday at Peckham, proverbial phr. (popular).—No work to do; and,
as a concomitant, nothing to eat. A play upon words.—See Peckish.
1811. Lexicon Balatronicum. All holiday at Peckham ... a saying
signifying that it is all over with the business or person spoken
of or alluded to.
1848. Forster, Oliver Goldsmith, bk. I., ch. vi., p. 55 (5ed.) ‘Oh,
that is all a holiday at peckham,’ said an old friend very
innocently one day, is a common proverbial phrase.
It seems that Goldsmith in the early part of his London life passed
some miserable months as usher in a school at Peckham, and the memory
of this doleful period was ever bitter to him. Years afterwards, a
friend in conversation happened to speak facetiously of it being ‘all
holiday at Peckham,’ and was surprised to find that this innocent
reference to a recognised proverbial phrase was regarded by Goldsmith
as an unkind allusion to his past misery, and, therefore, a personal
insult.
All Hollow, adv. (popular).—To beat, or carry all hollow, i.e.,
utterly; completely.
All Hot! subs. (common).—A hot potato. A cry used by peripatetic street
vendors.
All In, phr. (Stock Exchange).—When the market is depressed and a
disposition to sell prevails, it is said to be all in. Conversely, all
out signifies that the market is improving.
All in a Pucker.—See Pucker.
All in Fits, adv. phr. (tailors’).—Badly made clothes are said to be
all in fits, or to have a paralytic stroke. Such garments are also said
to fit where they touch, i.e., nowhere. Now common.
All jaw. All jaw like a sheep’s head, adv. phr. (common).—Said of one
who is a great talker; or, who has the gift of the gab.
1876. C. Hindley, Life and Adventures of a Cheap Jack, p. 41. ‘Look
at the man! hear him; why, he’s all jaw like a sheep’s head. He was
drummed out of the regiment he was in for eating his comrades’
knapsacks.’
A synonym is all mouth.—See Jaw.
All Lombard Street to a China Orange, phr. (old); sometimes all Lombard
Street to ninepence.—One of many fanciful forms of betting once current
among the sporting fraternity; others were ‘Chelsea College to a sentry
box,’ ‘Pompey’s Pillar to a stick of sealing wax,’ etc.
1819. Thomas Moore, Tom Cribb’s Memorial to Congress, p. 38.
A pause ensued—’till crie of ‘Gregson,’
Brought Bob, the poet, on his legs soon,—
My eyes, how prettily Bob writes!
Talk of your camels, hogs and crabs,
And twenty more such Pidcock frights—
Bob’s worth a hundred of these dabs,
All Lombard Street to ninepence on it.
All Moonshine, adverbial phr. (popular).—Moonshine is in old-fashioned
and provincial English ‘an illusive shadow,’ ‘a mere pretence’
[Halliwell]. The expression it is all moonshine is now variously
applied, whether as referring to empty professions, to vain boasts, to
promises not trustworthy, to questionable statements, or to any kind of
extravagant talk. There exist in several languages so many words of
lunar connection, all implying variableness or inconstancy, that
possibly this phrase also, it is all moonshine, may have been primarily
employed to express some degree of fickleness, or caprice; in allusion
to the inconstancy or changeableness of the moon, or rather moonlight.
When anyone professes or promises great things, which we do not expect
to see realized, we say it is all moonshine, for moonshine is very
shifty; one week we have it, another we have it not; nay, it shifts
from night to night. ‘Lunes’ in old English, are not only fits of
insanity, but freaks. And the term ‘lunatic’ itself did not properly
signify a person always insane, but one who was mad at intervals,
dependent as was supposed on the phases of the moon. This distinction
is still very accurately maintained in Spanish philology: ‘Lunatics, El
loco, cuya demencia no est continua, sino por intervalos que proceden
del estado en que se halla la Luna.’ Hence also in French, modern and
old: ‘Il a des lunes,’ he is whimsical or fantastic. ‘Tenir de la
lune,’ to be inconstant, mutable; ‘Avoir un quartier de la lune, en la
teste,’ or ‘Il y a de la lune,’ he is changeable, giddy, capricious. In
the ‘language of symbols’ the moon is the emblem of hypocrisy, as in
the following device:
‘La lune avec ces mots,
Mentiri didicit.
(Elle trompe toujours.)
Pour l’hypocrisie, dont la lune est le symbole.’ Menestriar,
Philosophie des Images, vol. I., p. 266.
Another emblem is the following:
‘La lune,
Non vultus non color unus,
Pour une personne qui n’est pas sincère.’
Ibid, I., p. 269.
Moonshine, in conformity with these ideas, was probably employed
originally in characterising the talk of persons too mutable to be
relied on from one time to another.—Notes and Queries.
1714. Spectator, No. 597. Several of my correspondents have been
pleased to send me an account how they have been employed in sleep,
and what notable adventure they have been engaged in during that
moonshine in the brain.
1874. Mrs. H. Wood, Johnny Ludlow, 1 S., No. xxii., p. 397. ‘They
are all pig-headed together ... they are blinded by specious
arguments that will turn out, I fear, to be all moonshine.’
All Mouth, adv. (common).—Applied to a loquacious talker. Cf., All jaw.
All My Eye, adv. phr. (common).—Variations in form are: all my eye and
Betty Martin—my elbow—Tommy—and my grandmother. All nonsense; rubbish.
The suggested derivations of this significant retort to a tedious
narration containing neither rhyme nor reason are as various as the
forms in which the phrase appears. Not so clear, however, is the
evidence in support of any of them, although Barrère unwittingly
stumbles upon what is probably the true origin. Had he studied the
subject of slang historically, he would have been able to adduce
adequate proof for what he merely puts forth as a ‘more probable’
derivation than those of his predecessors. After stating that some have
suggested the origin of the phrase in the Welsh, al mi hivy, it is very
tedious or all nonsense, he says, ‘It seems far more probable that it
is a contraction of the phrase ‘there is as much of it as there is in
all my eye,’ the words being made more forcible by closing one of the
organs of vision. To express dissent from any statement, or a refusal
to comply with a request. French slang has the corresponding term mon
œil! which is usually accompanied by a knowing wink and a significant
gesture as an invitation to inspect the organ.’ From a comparative
study of the dates and examples which follow, it seems a fair deduction
to assume that the original form of the phrase was simply all my eye,
and that the additional tags given above are later importations.
1653. Archbishop Bramhall, Answer to the Epistle of M. de la
Milletière [Works, vol. I., pp. 68–9. ed. Ox. 1842.] Fifthly,
suppose (all this notwithstanding) such a conference should hold,
what reason have you to promise to yourself such success as to
obtain so easy a victory? You have had conferences and conferences
again at Poissy and other places, and gained by them just as much
as you might put in your eye and see never the worse.
1682. Preface to Julian the Apostate (London, printed for Langley
Curtis). What benefit a Popish successor can reap from lives and
fortunes spent in defence of the Protestant religion he may put in
his eye; and what the Protestant religion gets by lives and
fortunes spent in the service of a Popish successor will be over
the left shoulder.
1768. Goldsmith, Good-natured Man, Act iii. Bailiff. That’s all my
eye. The king only can pardon.
1811. Poole, Hamlet Travestied, i, 1. As for black clothes,—that’s
all my eye and Tommy.
Hotten’s contention, that all my eye and Betty Martin was a vulgar
phrase constructed from the commencement of a Roman Catholic prayer to
St. Martin (the patron saint of drunkards), ‘Oh, mihi, beate Martine,’
which in common with many another fell into discredit and ridicule
after the Reformation, is both fanciful and untrue. In the first place
there is no prayer in the Breviary which answers to the description
given; and in the second it has been shown that the essential part of
the phrase is very much older than the Joe Millerism which first set
the copy for every lexicographer of the ‘unwritten word,’ from Hotten
down to Brewer and Barrère, the latter of whom, strangely enough, after
pitching on the right track, stultifies himself by an admission that
all my eye and Betty Martin seems to have been the original phrase. The
earliest example of the ‘Betty Martin’ form, found after long search,
occurs in Tom Crib’s Memorial to Congress, published in 1819, where it
appears simply as all my eye, Betty, but that the phrase was known long
previously is proved by the extract from Poole quoted above.
Among English Synonyms of refusal or incredulity, are: Cock and bull
story; a wild-goose chase; a mare’s nest; fiddle-de-dee; do you see any
green in my eye? that’s a flam; over the left; go teach your grannie to
suck eggs; Walker! you be blowed! You be hanged! Not for Joe! How’s
your brother, Job? Don’t you wish you may get it? Yes, in a horn
(American); That’s all round my hat.
Fr. Des fadeurs (lit. insipidity); C’est des vannes? (lit. floodgates
or sluices); des nèfles (lit. medlars); des navets! (turnips); de
l’anis! (lit. aniseed); du flan! (lit. custard); tu t’en ferais mourir!
(lit. you will die after it); mon œil! (my eye); flûte! Zut! (go to the
deuce!); et ta sœur? (phrase of the ‘who’s your hatter’ stamp); des
plis! (don’t you wish you may get it); la peau! (blow it all!); de la
mousse! (expression of ironical refusal); du vent! (go to pot!); des
emblèmes!; des fouilles!; on t’en fricasse!
All Nations, subs. (old).—1. A mixture of the drainings of all kinds of
spirits and malt liquors; it is of an extremely intoxicating character.
Sometimes called alls, or all sorts.
2. A parti-colored dress or coat; a Joseph’s garment. Also one that is
patched.
All-Night-Man, subs. (old).—A body snatcher. Now obsolete.
1861. Ramsay, Remin, ser. ii., 133. The body lifters, or
all-night-men, as they were wont to be called.
All of a Heap.—See Heap.
All of a Hough, adv. phr. (tailors’).—Said of an unskilled workman.
Equivalent to clumsy; bungling; unworkmanlike. Hotten quotes this as a
Suffolk phrase (hough being spelt hugh, and pronounced with a grunt).
Synonymous with ‘all on one side’; falling with a thump.
All of my Lone, adv. phr. (American).—A negro vulgarism for ‘alone.’
All on the Go (vulgarism).—See Go.
All Out, adv. phr. (vulgar).—1. Entirely; completely; by far, as in
‘all out the best.’ This vulgarism must now be classed among depraved
words; but as far as written English is concerned, it can be traced
back to the year 1300. It seems to have fallen out of use about the
middle of the seventeenth century.
1830. Carleton, Traits and Stories, vol. II., p. 102. ‘He’s now in
his grave, and, thank God, it’s he that had the dacent funeral all
out.’
2. Another old English expression, now obsolete, is to drink all out,
to empty a bumper; and hence,—
3. Used substantively, e.g., an all out being equivalent to what ’Arry
would call now-a-days a big drunk. The connection between the ancient
and modern usage is clear.