Paul Thomas: The quality of language is so, like, under attack

Britain's Daily Telegraph recently listed 50 annoying features of modern life. We're familiar with some of what bugs the writer Philip Norman, for instance the current thinking in commercial radio that two morons are better than one. And who hasn't felt a fleeting urge to strangle one of those young women "who continually rake long, wild, ringletty hair with their fingers in a gesture that's meant to imply 'I am a free spirit"'?

On the other hand, I doubt the Archbishop of Canterbury's manner and appearance disturb many New Zealanders' equilibriums, especially now that the Exclusive Brethren have usurped the Church of England's historic role of the National Party at prayer.

It sometimes seems as if modern life is just one source of aggravation after another, and the national mood one of simmering discontent. A review of this phenomenon that restricts itself to a mere 50 items can only scratch the surface, but even so there are some surprising omissions from the Telegraph's list, notably the debasement of language.

Given that many people who are old enough to know better have retired whole swathes of their vocabularies in favour of all-purpose blah-words like "like", "awesome", "whatever", and "cool", it's hardly surprising the young sometimes struggle to speak English as we knew it.

Even worse are the linguistic contortions of the chronically insincere and those who are so desperate to avoid giving offence or causing disappointment or being seen as negative (a negative tendency being one of the secular society's seven deadly sins) that they bury even the mildest criticism or unwelcome news in a welter of positive reinforcement.

The recent reality TV show Rock Star: Supernova provided a chilling snapshot of the discourse of the future. When a judge prefaced his verdict with "Totally awesome job, dude", that simply meant the contestant had got through their performance without swallowing the microphone.

And when it came to the weeding-out process, all restraint was cast aside. Once upon a time those who failed to make the grade would have been advised thus: "I'm afraid, Mr Wiggins, you're not quite what we're looking for." But when the tell-it-like-it-is wild men of rock want to cut someone off at the knees, they say something like, "You know I love you, babe. Everything you've done has just blown me away. You are a truly amazing talent and you're going to be a huge star; you're going to kick serious butt, man." Pause, stare at the floor, adopt consternated expression, take deep, shuddering breath. "Jeez, I hate this part. I'm really sorry, babe, but you're going home."

"You're going home": what an unctuous, weasel-worded euphemism for "get lost".

Whereupon the audience, taking its cue from this drivel, responds with an agonised howl of "Nooooo". This is equally meaningless because they're conditioned to do that whoever gets the chop, and the whole point of the exercise is to whittle down the hopefuls until only one remains.

Language has always been a tool of the social engineer but whereas in the past it was used to oppress and dehumanise, here and now it's being used to break down stereotypes and boost self-esteem. Schoolgirls no longer take cookery classes or learn to sew; they study food technology and design technology.

How we sniggered when super-patriot Ronald Reagan wanted to use Born in the USA, Bruce Springsteen's bitter indictment of America's treatment of its Vietnam veterans, as his campaign song, yet the ad breaks are full of such incongruities. Currently David Bowie's Rebel, Rebel is being used to flog a car made by the people who brought us the Panzer while Bob Dylan's Hard Rain, a nightmarish vision of a post-apocalypse world, is the theme tune for an SUV campaign. (I don't blame them for taking the money and running. If anyone wants to make a crappy movie of any of my books, all they have to do is write me a cheque).

Then there are taxi drivers and waiters who seem to think they're perfectly entitled to learn on the job at our expense. Why can't they achieve a basic level of competence before being let loose on the public?

There's media extrapolation from half-baked public opinion surveys informing us that The Da Vinci Code is the greatest book ever written.

There's the lame banter and buffoonery of TV news presenters, a textbook case of the lowest common denominator mentality being a self-fulfilling prophecy.

There's the insufferable smirk favoured by the Minister of Finance and the All Black coach.

There's the cynical variation thereof exhibited by the Prime Minister when asked this week why she was looking forward to the issue of integrity being raised in Parliament.

There's ... there's no more space. And I was just getting warmed up.