Filler words

I was... like.. you know... tired. That is something you may actually hear these days. What should be a three-word sentence becomes a six-word sequence by virtue of what we, linguists, euphemistically call "discourse markers".

Yes. Discourse markers. You may know them by a plethora of other names: "hesitation devices", "pause fillers", "phatic tokens", etc. They are essentially words (or sounds) which a speaker uses to buy time. The way I see it, saying I was tired shouldn't be a struggle. It's a simple thought that can be expressed with the most basic grammar and vocabulary. So, what is the problem here? I don't quite know the answer to that question, but I suspect that laziness (again!) plays a major role in the "phenomenon".

In general terms, filler words aren't an error. On the contrary, they help us keep the speech going. However, the overuse of those words tends to signal that you're not thinking straight, which is only forgivable when you're truly too exhausted to think at all. Under normal circumstances (whatever that may mean) you ought to be able to utter a subject-verb-object sequence without resorting to any form of hedging. I was tired. No hesitation.

In the clip below Donald Glover uses the word like 20 times in 48 seconds. What he explains is, well... not exactly rocket science.

If someone should ask you about your take on the paintings by Picasso you would be excused for being at a loss for words. In such a scenario even an expert would probably deploy some degree of hesitation, but a different kind... the good kind.

Consider this opinion:

I think he was uh... technically brilliant, but, you know, he also innovated quite a bit. Actually, he experimented in multiple areas and, in his own way, I think he redefined the very concept of... uh... well... not only painting, but art in general.

The question is rather challenging. Unsurprisingly, even a sophisticated speaker will have to juggle several concepts and choose between lots of different possible terms. Think about the many words which can be used to describe Picasso (painter, sculptor, artist, creator, maverick), his skills (talented, gifted, extraordinary, masterful, brilliant), his contributions (innovate, break new ground, pioneer, cofound), his productivity (relentless, determined, unflinching), his political views (engage, timing, commitment). As you see, there are so many things you can say about Picasso that it would be miraculous if you managed to articulate a flawless, filler-free response in your mother tongue, let alone in a foreign language.

That said, the lexical options are drastically reduced when you discuss a particular aspect of a science. Indeed, in areas such as Physics or Chemistry many terms simply don't have synonyms. To the best of my knowledge, stem cells don't go by any other name. The same can be said about terms like DNA or chromosome. That alone explains why a biologist will show less hesitation when expounding the process of meiosis, for example. Anyhow, the video below makes that very point quite persuasively.

So, my dear learners, go easy on the fillers. Used sparingly they are a sign of advanced fluency (no doubt about that), but, much like spicy sauce, overuse tends to be... uh... rather... you know...  counterproductive.

You're not a writer (yet)

Would you enjoy a novel in which the narrator, who has just been released from prison, declares that he feels as free as a bird? Probably not. What if he then asks his lawyer how she managed to get him out of jail and she goes: "it was as easy as pie"? Cringy, right?

For obvious reasons, clichés are a symptom of lazy writing. After all, a writer is expected to be creative. That's the whole point of his craft. A writer should make a story interesting. And prose can't possibly be interesting if it offers you the kind of language that everybody uses in their day to day lives. But here's the thing. As an advanced learner you're supposed to do exactly that: use the conventions of the target language, in other words, clichés and idioms.

Only after you've mastered the cliclés can you go on to try and be original (by, for example, coining your own expressions) or be funny (by coming up with a version of an established idiom). But that, of course, goes well beyond the requirements of the C2 level. So, we don't even need to discuss those skills here.

Back to the point... When you decide to use an idiom you should consider its impact. That demands a certain degree of extra information. Is the expression very old and, therefore, recognizable or very old and just dated? I have always liked the phrase like a knife fight in a phone booth. It explains a specific situation quite efficiently. The problem is that most phone booths have disappeared, which makes the expression sound old-fashioned. You can update it and say like a knife fight in an elevator, but, even if it does the job it's not exactily a traditional phrase. It might even sound slightly unnatural. See how complicated things can get?

Let's explore another scenario. Let's imagine that you'd like to convey the idea that something is unexpected. You can say well, that was quite unexpected or even I didn't see that coming, which are perfect expressions. If you say that came out of left field, though, you'll be using an actual idiom, which by definition is not transparent. It sounds casual and conversational. Not bad. Now, if you say that was not on my bingo card you'll probably sound modern. In case you don't know, that expression was first used in 2008, which, by linguistic standards, is not a very long time ago. Will an older speaker understand that? I think so. What if you say that's a plot twist? It's kind of playful. See the difference?

At this point you should know where this is all heading... By knowing all these common idioms you can choose to sound correct, casual, fresh, feisty or even funny. It's really up to you. If you're planning on writing fiction in English, please don't even think of using any of those expressions, but if your aim is to obtain a C1 or a C2 certificate. That's quite a different story. Wait. That's a whole different ballgame. No... It's a whole different kettle of fish altogether. Well... You know what I mean.

Beware of word salads

Jordan Peterson, Canadian psychologist and internet personality, is the absolute master of word salads. He can gild any thought with sophistication. Such is his magnificent command of the English tongue. Alas... he often goes a tad too far and ventures into the utterly nonsensical. In his statements the Bible becomes the biblical scriptures, facts are factual grounds and simple questions are treated as epistemological disquisitions. And woe betide those who dare gainsay him (see what I just did?). I can only surmise that he relishes every opportunity to intimidate into submission those who let themselves be hoodwinked by obscure terms.

In the video below Richard Dawkins, British biology professor and inventor of the word meme, poses a straightforward yes/no question to which Jordan Peterson answers that he doesn't know how to "mediate the fact-value dichotomy in that case". Leaving aside the fact that Dawkins's question does not assert a value proposition, I think we can all agree that Jordan Peterson's answer goes well beyond bombast and descends into sheer gobbledygook.

As your teacher, I'd advise you never to do the same. That speaking style cheapens your language. Finding the right word, the proverbial mot juste, and expressing a concept with clarity and precision is notably harder but also far more rewarding than resorting to unnecessary highfalutin terms.

Having said all that, it is undeniable that Jordan Peterson knows his grammar. His sentences are well-crafted and his vocabulary (when he manages to stay away from gibberish) is truly impressive.

Whatever your worldview might be, try and find good orators and study them. Identify the structures and techniques that they use and mimic them. That's the way it has always been done.

Lexical range

Welcome, my dear advanced students, newcomers and recidivists, young and, well, not so young. A new school year is about to begin and I'm here for you... again.

So allow me to start with an old reminder. If you left the C1.1 behind you should brush up on your advanced vocabulary and if you're new to the advanced arena, you ought to make sure that you start to work towards acquiring a decent set of fancy words. Why? Because, as you'll soon realize, finer shades of meaning are not only relevant but also necessary.

Having said that, advanced vocabulary doesn't grant your English C1 status. In my experience, many non-experts (including AI models) seem to believe that speaking at a high level consists in bandying about unusual vocabulary. Well, let me tell you right away... it does not. There are plenty of other features that also need attention, not least of all cognitive sophistication. The expression of nuance is a quintessential trait of the truly advanced register if only because granular knowledge and attention to detail demand precise vocabulary. However, substance is also critical.

I just used the word quintessential because I feel it is what I need in this particular context. Near synonyms such as essential, vital or key do not carry the idea of "being exemplary or typically representative" of something (in this case a degree of linguistic competency). For analogous reasons, a specialist will consistently make use of technical terms. And it's not about bamboozling interlocutors. Just consider the difference between an anatomical term like adrenal gland and the explanation that a lay person might find easier to understand:

• adrenal gland (two words)
• the little triangle-shaped hat sitting on top of a kidney (ten words)

I don't need to explain why every surgeon on the planet is partial to the first option.

Obviously, a C1 or C2 student is not supposed to know that kind of technical vocabulary or any kind of technical jargon, for that matter. But similar accuracy can and will become inevitable in certain day-to-day situations in which blanket terms such as happy or sad will not cut the proverbial mustard. What kind of sadness is your friend referring to when they say they are... sad? Are they bummed out? Clinically depressed? Heartbroken? Nostalgic? Or just upset? As you see, specificity can be rather necessary, which is the reason why I have decided to put a smile on your face by having you watch a gem of an introducion. Don't wince. It will only take 90 seconds of your time.

In the video below Stephen Fry delivers a speech during the celebrations (in the U.S.!) of the 800th anniversary of Cambridge University. Naturally, on such a grand occasion, one expects a speaker to begin by expressing their sheer satisfaction at being where they are. A standard, predictable formula would have been it is a pleasure to be here. But, you know, Stephen Fry is not exactly a predictable speaker. He plays with words as though they were physical objects and, as you're about to see for yourselves, he is more than capable of turning a conventional trope into a glorious masterpiece of oratory. Watch the first minute and a half of this speech and you'll understand what I mean.

Foreign languages in Hollywood

For a long time a pet peeve of mine has been the way language acquisition is typically portrayed in American films. One doesn't need to be a linguist to realize that Hollywood doesn't have a clue as to what it's like to really learn a foreign language. Since I have spent most of my life learning and teaching foreign languages, I think I know a thing or two about the subject. But, to be honest, one doesn't need to be a polyglot to know that, whatever the advertising industry says, learning a new language is a long hard process. My students know that too well. Yet, for some unfathomable reason, Hollywood doesn't seem to get it. It keeps churning out screenplays with scenes which fly in the face of reality. Characters learn a language in just a couple of days and some go so far as to achieve the holy grail of language learning: to pass themselves off as native speakers. Here you have a quick historical overview of "the problem":

• In the film The King and I (1956) it is assumed that either the British governess picks up Thai to stunning perfection or that the king of Siam and the whole court happen to speak perfect English.
• In The Untouchables (1984) Sean Connery plays a cop who supposedly managed to learn Italian from a book "in a week" to go undercover. No comments.
• In The 13th Warrior (1999) Antonio Banderas plays an Arab poet who learns to speak fluent Old Norse in a few days just by listening to warriors talk around campfires.
• In The Terminal (2004) the Tom Hanks character learns to speak fluent English by comparing two guidebooks, one written in English and the other written in Krakozhian (his mother tongue).
• In the Netflix series Ripley (2024) the main character, played by Andrew Scott, is able to hold deep philosophical conversations with native speakers after only a month in Italy.

Other unrealistic tropes still making the rounds are Hispanic characters in the U.S. who will say "gracias" for no apparent reason, characters that supposedly speak a foreign language but switch to English as soon as they have said the one stock phrase they seem to know and, of course, let's not forget that old Hollywood staple: the multilingual villain, a cliché which, at least in English-speaking countries, has reinforced the outlandish idea that speaking many languages is somehow suspicious, dangerous or flat-out evil. The defense mechanisms of monoglots can indeed be perplexing.

To be fair, in recent times many of those fantasies have fallen out of grace. Modern spectators seem to have become increasingly aware of just how ardous and time-consuming mastering a foreign language can be. They also seem to accept the fact that being a polyglot is actually quite cool. But, when it comes to accents, Hollywood still misses the mark. Spaniards are customarily depicted as having a bad lisp (as if Spanish didn't have an S-sound!), French characters tend to have an over-the-top French accent and Central or Eastern Europeans speak in the same unplaceable, non-descript way. It looks like there is no better way of signaling how dangerous a character can be than have him (it's usually a he) display a generic Dracula-meets-Cold-War accent. Austrian? Serbian? Russian? Bulgarian? Who cares?

In the hilarious clip below Peter Stormare, a seasoned Swedish actor who's been working in Hollywood for some decades now, makes fun of all those stereotypes and openly reveals that Hollywood executives are blissfully unaware of what European accents really sound like. Enjoy.

Conceptual complexity

Consider the following opinion about artificial intelligence:

"Empowerment was the pitch. Dependence is the business"

Succinct. Direct. Poignant. It is safe to say that neither the vocabulary nor the grammar in those two sentences are challenging in the least. And yet no child would ever say anything like that. The sophistication of that statement lies in its conceptual complexity. You hear something like that and immediately stop to ponder its veracity. In my view such sentences exemplify an oft neglected aspect of the advanced level: conceptual sophistication. It is really no use knowing hundreds of high register words if your ideas are basic.

As a longtime C2 examiner, I don't care for statements that include gratuitous vocabulary. Saying "the house was colossal" is not all that different from "the house was very big". Yes. The word colossal belongs to the type of vocabulary that one learns in C1 and C2 classes. And yet... using such a fancy term doesn't require much in the way of intellectual sophistication. It's a bit like saying that the name Archibald is "more sophisticated" than Frank. Is it, though? They're just names! Statements, however, contain ideas, which can indeed be simple or complex. Let's look at three different scenarios:

Firstly, sometimes a word can be rich in meaning. The technical term hysteresis, for instance, is complex in itself, but since it is only used in the scientific domain it can't be expected in a C2 classroom. The word desk, though, is simple enough. There's not much to say about it, right? (and yet... I could talk about it for a straight hour). Then we have a tricky category: words that seem simple, but hide multiple or unexpected meanings. Take the iconic scene from The Lord of the Rings (2001) in which Gandalf shouts "Fly you fools!". A novice learner might think that the word fly in that scene refers to the act of moving through the air. Advanced students know that it can also mean "take flight", that is to say, "flee". I think we can agree that "Run, you idiots!" doesn't have the same ring to it. "Fly" sounds both literary and stern. The point I'm trying to make is that words, in themselves, can be simple or rich or both. They can belong to different registers and, therefore, elicit different reactions.

Now, if we take things to the next level, we will soon realize that full sentences can also behave like words. They can be easy or hard to understand. And not necessarily due to the vocabulary in them. If I say that, according to quantum mechanics, "the nature of matter is contextual, not absolute" you might feel the need to scratch your head a little. The words themselves are not intimidating. Still, the meaning is mysterious. And I know exactly what you're thinking right now. Yes. That statement is difficult to comprehend without a context. Fair enough. Here you have the context:

Everything, from light to electrons to even large molecules, behaves as both a particle (a localized "thing") and a wave (a spread-out, probabilistic ripple). Which one you see depends entirely on how you measure it. An electron isn't really a wave or a particle. It's a third, unimaginable quantum object that merely manifests as one or the other depending on the experiment we choose to perform. The nature of matter is therefore contextual, not absolute.

Again. I think the vocabulary in that paragraph is not particularly hard to understand. It is the cognitive content that makes it complex. You will probably think that Quantum Mechanics is, in and of itself, a sophisticated branch of Physics. And, of course, you won't be wrong. But that is exactly what I mean. Difficulty is intrinsic to Quantum Mechanics. Even if I try and discuss it in simple terms, comprehension will still be challenging.

Something similar happens in the video below, in which a Buddhist monk expounds his views on the concept of personal identity and the very idea of selfhood. If you pay close attention you'll realize that both his vocabulary and his grammar are, for the most part, B1. The cognitive content, though, is obviously C2 material. The sublime irony of it all is that this apparent contradiction feels a little "koan-ish"... but it is not.

Silent letters

A long time ago in a land far far away I struck up a conversation with a middle-aged American who assured me that some of the older folks in his community still pronounced the K-sound in the word knife. I happened to be on the island of Roanoke, in North Carolina, and my interlocutor was a local resident. To be honest, I never got to hear that unusual pronunciation, but I don't question the man's account. Some pronunciation habits die hard and Roanoke was, after all, the site of a colony that once attempted to be the first permanent English settlement in what is today U. S. soil. Their dialect is, in many ways, a direct descendant from the region of Devonshire in England. Still, people's perceptions of their own language are often unreliable.

I have encountered many a Spaniard who decried the loss of the labiodental [v] in Spanish, even though it has never been a phoneme in standard Castilian. It does make sense, though, that some of the characteristics of the English variety spoken in Roanoke should be old. Still, I have no proof that the medieval consonant cluster [kn] has really survived into the 21st century. In European English it faded away around 1650. Did it manage to survive in the Outer Banks of North Carolina for over three hundred years? Who "K-nows"?

I sometimes use that anecdote to illustrate the fact that there was a time in the English language when the K-sound was actually pronounced in words such as knight, know, knee and knife. Unfortunately for foreign learners, the pronunciation of English evolved quite a bit while its spelling remained essentially unchanged. And that is the reason for the chaotic orthographic system we all enjoy today. Over the course of a few centuries, however, some of the consonant sounds that ceased to be articulated are still represented by the so-called "silent letters". Here's a brief sample of letters that represent no sounds:

• The L in palm, balm, calm, half, salmon
• The B in climb, bomb, thumb, comb
• The W in write, sword, wrong

This is, of course, the cause of untold headaches. There are many other surprising examples. Just think of the P in words such as corps, cupboard or receipt. Nevertheless, I suspect that you'd rather watch a video about silent letters than read a wordy explanation of their origins, which is why I suggest you take some minutes of your time and enjoy the following clip:

So, does that happen overnight? Clearly not. The process whereby a sound is lost may go on for decades or even centuries, but it is always identifiable. Right now, in 2026, we have two pronunciations for the word human: with and without the H-sound. That means that the word human might be in the process of losing its initial consonant. It is not an isolated case of phonetic change. Some older speakers on the East Coast still pronounce the word whale as [hweil] and white as [hwaIt]. Alas, their children have already abandoned that pronunciation. Without any young speakers pronouncing the [h] in whale we can safely say that the aspirated consonant in the WH-words (where, why, what, etc.) is virtually defunct. Similarly we can see now that some speakers articulate a [d] or a [t] in the word handsome. Most (overwhelmingly) don't. Sooner of later those exceptional productions will vanish altogether and the D in handsome, pretty much like the H in whale, will be officially silent.

The main takeaway from this post should be that languages are always changing. Different pronunciations may compete for a while, but eventually one becomes mainstream and the other falls by the wayside. Silent letters remind us all of this very process. In a way, they are the headstone next to the grave where nonexistent sounds lie. Your duty as an English learner is to know which sounds are gone and which are still around. You don't want to pronounce phonetic cadavers or create zombie phonemes. If you do, you may one day mention the U. S. Marine "Corpse". And you don't want that, do you?

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N. B. Should you be interested in listening to a reconstructed evolution of English you may want to check out the first three minutes of this fascinating video.