What do you call it when... someone's visual identity is unknown?

This query has been emailed into The Engine Room:

Is there a word which means that a person's visual identity is unknown? For example, the West End Whingers are often referred to as "anonymous" as people don't know what they look like. However, they are not anonymous as they really are called Phil and Andrew [the names given on the WEW website]. Is there a word for use in these circumstances?

Well, 'anonymous' comes from the Greek for 'nameless', whereas Phil and Andrew, I suppose, are faceless rather than nameless. However the OED defines faceless as "remote and impersonal", which isn't really what we're driving at. And whether it's true of the West End Whingers I wouldn't like to say!

Lots of other 'in-' or 'un-' words also spring to mind, such as 'incognito' or 'undisclosed', but none of them seem quite right. I imagine we're looking for another 'a-' word.

Any suggestions?

Shill and squelette

A couple of recent finds:

First, a BBC News Magazine article on 'shill reviewing'. I've never come across the AmE word 'shill' before but I have encountered a few shill (or false) customer reviews in my time. The article also lists some other striking terms such as 'Amazon bombing' and 'Astroturfing'.

Second, the word 'squelette' (as in French for 'skeleton'), meaning a 'ruined' building that was never actually completed. Stan Carey from the blog Sentence first drew my attention to this on Twitter; thanks, Stan.

Squelettes in Egypt

(Photo by P Snelling.)

Chocs and cigs and ripping and topping

I blogged about Books v. Cigarettes, a collection of essays by George Orwell, a few weeks ago - but there's one more passage I'd like to share with you. Here he's writing about the years immediately preceding the First World War:

It was the age when crazy millionaires in curly top-hats and lavender waistcoats gave champagne parties in rococo house-boats on the Thames, the age of diabolo and hobble skirts, the age of the 'knut' in his grey bowler and cut-away coat, the age of The Merry Widow, Saki's novels, Peter Pan and Where the Rainbow Ends, the age when people talked about chocs and cigs and ripping and topping and heavenly, when they went for divvy week-ends at Brighton and had scrumptious teas at the Troc.

I just love how Orwell captures the spirit of the period primarily through its vocabulary.

And does anyone know what a 'knut' is in this context?

Compendium of Curious Words

Here in The Engine Room, Apus and I have written about all manner of unusual and intriguing words, from 'applipac' to 'zero'.

I've just put together a Compendium of Curious Words, which lists them all - and links them back to the original blog posts. It's a knol, but don't be scared.

Spendthrift: not what I thought it was

A confession: until very recently I thought a spendthrift was someone who was careful (thrifty) with money.

In reality, as I'm sure you know, a spendthrift is the very opposite - "one who spends money profusely or wastefully; one who wastes his patrimony by foolish or lavish expenditure; an improvident or extravagantly wasteful person" (OED Online).

World Wide Words: Spendthrift

What words have you misunderstood (or if you prefer, reinterpreted)?

Words of the day, 1755

Here's a challenge – see how many of these word's from Dr Johnson's dictionary you can work into conversation this weekend...

bedpresser a heavy, lazy fellow
fopdoodle a fool
kicksy-wicksy a word in disdain or ridicule of a wife (but not Mrs Apus, obviously)
fleshquake a tremor of the body
dandiprat an urchin
jobbernowl a blockhead
giglet a wanton

Come to think of it, when was the last time you heard anyone say "fellow" (in the sense of chap), "urchin" (in the sense of scamp), "blockhead" (in the sense of dunderhead) or, more's the pity, "wanton"?

Eudemonic neoteric year!

A eudemonic neoteric year to all our fellow English language energumens. And if you'd like your own guide to Wordsmanship, the book of that name (subtitled The Art of Verbal Conquest) was published in 1984 by Angus & Robertson (ISBN 0-207-14915-1). While JD and I have sworn the subbing guild oath to keep English lucid, sometimes it's nice to be able to stop an argument with a word or two that your opponent doesn't know.

Here are a few more examples you might like to drop into conversation:
hepatic disagreeable
edacious greedy
incondite crude
hebetudinous thick-headed
hebdomadal weekly
nugatory trifling
iracund irritating
oscitancy lazy
nocuous harmful
irrefragable undeniable
vilipend slander
thrasonical boastful

Wordsmanship has its roots in the concept of one-upmanship, for which we are indebted to the late, great Stephen Potter. His books, Gamesmanship (1947), Lifemanship (1950), One-Upmanship (1952) and Supermanship (1958) explain "how to win without actually cheating" by taking psychological advantage of your opponent at every possible opportunity.

Also well worth tracking down is the smashing 1959 film School For Scoundrels, an archetypal British comedy co-written by Peter Ustinov with a tremendous cast including Ian Carmichael, Terry Thomas, the incomparable Alastair Sim (as Stephen Potter), Dennis Price, Peter Jones, John le Mesurier, Hattie Jacques Hugh Paddick and Irene Handl.

Google reveals there was a US remake in 1996, which strikes me as being about as worthwhile as a British remake of Casablanca. Nuff sed.