I often prepare Monday’s blog post on a Sunday morning when my mind is more lively because I’ve had a rest from writing for a day and have things on my mind that need putting on virtual paper. Well, today is no exception as I’m writing this yesterday, but I don’t really have much to say, apart from this:
Malaphors. A malaphor, apparently, is the unintentional combination of two idioms or clichés that results in a humorous statement that doesn’t make a lot of sense. My husband comes out with them all the time. One can hear him singing in the kitchen, ‘’Cos you’ve got to have toast, toast, toast,’ a combination of ‘Faith’, by George Michael, and (A little bit of) ‘Toast’ by Streetband (Paul Young, 1978).
Another of his is, ‘Grandma, we love you, the one with the waggly tail.’ This is a malaphor created by mixing ‘There’s No One Quite Like Grandma’ by the Saint Whocares School Choir, with ‘(How much is) That Doggy in the Window?’ made famous by Patti Page in 1952.
I’ve used these things for a character in one of my books. The chap in question mixes his lines of poetry, such as:
‘Let us go then you and I to a place where the wild thyme grows.’
He also says, ‘Once upon a midnight dreary, the owl and the pussy cat went to sea.’
I think it’s fun, and as that ‘Once upon a midnight…’ comes from my favourite poem, I thought I’d use it again and make a complete sow’s purse out of a sleeping dog, mix things up, add in a bit of Wordy’s Worth with some Lewis Carroll and see what nonsense I can come up with to get the week off to a dodgy start. So, here, before you get to a couple of random photos, is a creation which I have titled…
Malaphorious
Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
I wandered lonely as a cloud.
’Twas brillig, and the slithy toves did gyre and gimble in the wabe,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore
That floats on high o’er vales and hills.
All mimsy were the borogoves, when all at once I saw a crowd,
A host of golden daffodils, and the mome raths outgrabe.
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of someone gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
“’Tis some visitor,” I muttered, “tapping at my chamber door,
Beside the lake, beneath the trees, fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
Only this and nothing more.”
Thank you, and have a nice day.
