Tag Archives: Oscar Wilde

‘Thou Smell of Mountain Goat’ and Other Useful Comebacks

Groucho Marx

‘That’s not writing, it’s typing.’ Truman Capote said of Jack Kerouac. When writers aren’t dissing each other, they put their best insults in their books. Here are some of my favourite literary put-downs.

This post was inspired by a birthday gift of Shakespearean insult badges (see picture). I remember when my birthday badges used to say ‘It’s my birthday’ or ‘I’m [insert age here] today’, but as they don’t seem to make those for people over a certain age, these days I get ‘Thou smell of mountain goat’.  Let’s start with some more classic barbs from the bard.

William Shakespeare

‘I desire that we be better strangers.’ The classy way to unfriend someone. 

shakespearean insults

‘He has not so much brain as earwax.’ Which reminds me of Kurt Vonnegut:  ‘If your brains were dynamite, there wouldn’t be enough to blow your hat off.’

Jane Austen

For when the obligatory guy with acoustic guitar and indeterminate facial hair arrangement has pushed it with one too many Jeff Buckley covers around the camp fire… ‘You have delighted us long enough.’

‘Elinor agreed to it all, for she did not think he deserved the compliment of rational opposition.’ Just wander off into your mind palace when above bloke has had his instrument forcible removed and turns instead to monologuing cod philosophy.

P.G Wodehouse

‘And she’s got brains enough for two, which is the exact quantity the girl who marries you will need.’ A genuinely slow person may struggle with the maths here, thus you are safe to insult away without fear of repercussions.

‘You probably think that being a guest in your aunt’s house I would hesitate to butter you all over the front lawn and dance on the fragments in hobnailed boots, but you are mistaken. It would be a genuine pleasure.’

Charles Dickens

‘He’d make a lovely corpse.’ It’s a threat, but not one Scotland Yard could have you for.

‘The plain truth is, that he was a most intolerable ruffian, a disgrace to human nature, and a blot of blood and grease upon the history of England.’ Tell me what you really think…

Oscar Wilde

‘I never saw someone take so long to dress which such little result.’ Boom. Or perhaps we should forgo unkind banter and follow Wilde’s wise judgement:

always forgive

Do you have a favourite? Tell me in the comments! If you enjoyed this, please like and share.

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My Favourite Spooky Novels for Halloween

Here are my favourite novels that feel Halloween-appropriate. They may not all contain the classic supernatural monsters that provide the inspiration for the creepiest costumes. However to me, horror is much more than monsters: it is an oppressive atmosphere; chilling imagery; a twisting, startling plot; and good dose of foggy Victorian nights where villains lurk down dank alleys and in nervous imaginations.

Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier ‘Last night I dreamt I went to Manderley again.’ This famous first line transports the reader with the nameless narrator back into a tale of tension and drama. It may not be a literal ghost story, but the protagonist is psychologically haunted by her new husband’s first wife, the eponymous Rebecca. The creepy housekeeper is devoted to her dead mistress and bullies the new Mrs de Winter into feeling that she will never be good enough. She begins to doubt herself and her husband’s love. If you haven’t read it, do, if only for the dramatic twists. It’s about power and fear. The imagery is taken directly from the horror genre:  ‘The road to Manderley lay ahead. There was no moon. The sky above our heads was inky black. But the sky on the horizon was not dark at all. It was shot with crimson, like a splash of blood. And the ashes blew towards us with the salt wind from the sea.’

The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde Teaching the perils of vanity, this beautifully written allegorical triumph is the perfect horror story. It has everything: crime, murder, sex, drugs and some startlingly gruesome surprises. Dorian Gray is young and beautiful. He falls in with a hedonistic crowd and has his portrait painted by Basil Hallward. He realises the transience of good looks and declares that he would sell his soul if the portrait would age instead of him. This Faustian pact becomes more real than he could have imagined as his sins are drawn on the picture, making it horrifically disfigured. This is Oscar Wilde’s only novel and caused moral outrage when it was published: usually the sign of an interesting book!  

Frankenstein by Mary Shelley It’s a Gothic horror classic. The original mad scientist, Victor Frankenstein brings forth new life in his lab, but is appalled by the monster he has created. Eight feet tall with translucent skin and yellow eyes, it craves human contact, yet terrifies everyone it meets.  This self-aware creature is one of the most fascinating characters in literature and is far more articulate in the text than it is allowed to be in most green-faced film adaptations: “I do know that for the sympathy of one living being, I would make peace with all. I have love in me the likes of which you can scarcely imagine and rage the likes of which you would not believe. If I cannot satisfy the one, I will indulge the other.” With a frame narrative, this novel is structurally intelligent as well as impressively dark and complex.

Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte So the ghost story element has rather had power taken out of it by that Kate Bush song, but that aside, the novel remains atmospheric, deeply creepy (implied nechrophilia) and involves some of the best pathetic fallacy I’ve ever seen. The central piece of the book is the all-consuming, destructive monomania that Cathy and Heathcliff feel for each other. In my favourite passage from the book, Heathcliff says: ‘Why did you betray your own heart, Cathy? I have not one word of comfort. You deserve this. You have killed yourself. Yes, you may kiss me, and cry; and wring out my kisses and tears: they’ll blight you—they’ll damn you… Because misery and degradation, and death, and nothing that God or Satan could inflict would have parted us, you, of your own will, did it. I have not broken your heart—you have broken it; and in breaking it, you have broken mine… Do I want to live? What kind of living will it be when you—oh, God! would you like to live with your soul in the grave?’ The themes of heaven and hell, of souls and damnation pervade each generation’s stories.

What would you add to this list?

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