Illustration: Rocco Fazzari
THERE is a certain sound that may be familiar to you. It heralds an unhappy liaison between an individual and their oesophageal tract.
In my father's day, they called it a morning oyster. Not so long ago it went by the name of a Peter Stringfellow. Most recently one would hear it referred to as a hoick. However, this terminology fails to capture the truly visceral sensation of nausea that washes over oneself on hearing a sharp intake of phlegm and its triumphant expectoration. These monikers unjustly glamorise what is, quite frankly, a stomach churner.
Having witnessed a number of public hoicking incidents of late, I felt compelled to coin a new term to encapsulate the full, gory spectrum of this mucus merrymaking. And so was born the Snoffit. I expect David Astle and the Macquarie Dictionary people will be on the phone soon after reading about this natty little term that captures so much with so little effort.
Previous phrases have not taken into account the full gamut of this odious pastime. Morning oyster addresses the result, yet neglects the method of delivery. Stringfellow pays homage to the viscosity while ignoring its auditory possibilities. Hoick salutes the trajectory but turns a blind eye to the aftermath.
Advertisement
Snoffit embraces the manoeuvre in its entirety. It has three
tiny, but meaty components. 'Sn' is for sniff - phase one of the
movement. Phase two is 'off' for cough (I know, it's not completely
kosher for the grammar pedants, but work with me). Then to finish we
have 'it' for vomit - the finale.The Snoffit can happen anywhere, any time. I am more than happy to curl my lip at any passer-by who dares deliver a Snoffit within general earshot. This behaviour calls for a scornful glance and a possible furrow of the brow in an attempt to call the blighter to task. However, much to my disappointment, one cannot truly expect the offender to bag and bin his human detritus (as a recalcitrant poodle and its owner might).
So, to all you Snoffiteers out there, I acknowledge your right to employ the Snoffit, as long as you keep it strictly for personal use only. Do not engage in it before women, small children or the elderly. Do not ply it on public transport, in shopping malls or in places of worship. And do not exercise it at my house. Here ends the party broadcast from the Ministry of Social Hygiene.
There's a curious gender divide here - and I haven't cracked its origin
ReplyDeleteJust about every bloke I know is a hearty (if not always joyous) practitioner of the action you outline
But female sightings of the practice are virtually unknown (there was this moustached possum-trapping woman I met once in the NZ back-country) anyway...
Being a member of Group: Male - I have some insight into the phenomenon from their perspective... a buildup of excessive phlegm (what a word... "phlegm" - so perfect) occurs rendering a constriction of the - really rather important - breathing passages
The rational solution: (how male) - loosen and dislodge obstruction via a short burst of air channeled through a muscle -activated 'bottlenecking' of the throat
When successfully captured, eject in time honoured fashion
So - given the dearth of similar female events, the question is...
Do women simply never have this problem?
Or, if they do, is composure and discretion so crucial to them that they - well, what are the options - gulp it on down?
(If it's (b) - then knowing that that's going on at any time is kind of repulsive - more or less than "snoffitting"? The gender biased jury is out...)
Now, when I first moved to this country, I stayed for a short time at the home of the recently separated sister of an old friend
She (still fairly fresh from the acrimony of the split) volunteered quite a few of the exes' shortcomings
But one that stuck in particular - and one spat out (no pun intended) with a high (actually 'low' if you're being pedantic) pH level of acid bile - was the comment about his - you guessed it...
"Every morning when he took a shower, he'd dredge up these massive, gutteral lungers - I think that was what disgusted me the most about him" & la de da
Well, I took that on board and have been quite self-conscious about it ever since...
But the physical fact remained - how to deal with the regular necessity of clearing one's passages?
Consequently - there's no getting around it - and I really really endeavour to do it out of sensitive earshot - but sometimes I just have to... snoffit
(though if I was to give the 'full gamut' a word - I might propose 'Hocktuey'!)
As we all know, discretion is the better part of valour. Here endeth the lesson.
ReplyDelete