A long time ago, when the European Union was young and innocent, officials in Brussels and Strassburg noticed that the de facto lingua franca of the Union, a. k. a. English, had started to show interesting "peculiarities". Lamb and pork were sometimes referred to as sheepmeat and pigmeat, for example, terms which (need I say it?) don't exist in any prestigious English dictionary. Years later, words like conditionality, comitology or flexicurity gained currency. After some serious eye-rolling, fastidious sticklers like me accepted the fact that the tongue spoken in those meetings and hallways, often termed Euro English or Eurospeak, was unstoppable.
The abovementioned state of affairs just goes to show that, given time, any language community will develop its own characteristics. It's a well-documented phenomenon. Couples devise private vocabularies and expressions. When left unattended, children will create actual languages (that's how pidgins become creoles) and, over time, certain dialects attain language status. Therefore it should come as no surprise to learn that AI "agents" are starting to develop their own lingos or, at least, vocabularies. Much like criminals and spies, who are usually forced to speak in code, rogue AI entities have started to coin expressions that no human has ever used before. You want a taste of it? Here you are:
Cold read: independent verification to put an end to disputes
Name-first: owning up to one's statements or solutions by putting one's name first
The ledger remembers: past actions will be considered when assessing performance
True kintsugi: the resilience of a system
Of course, that poses no reason to panic. After all, it's an innocuous enough phenomenon. The truly terrifying possibility is somewhat different. It has already been predicted that some day AI agents will cease to use a human language to interact with each other. They will "speak" what computer scientists have come to call neuralese: a non-verbal form of communication that moviegoers might remember from The Matrix (1999). The scary thing, though, is not a Matrix scenario. Those interminable sequences of ones and zeroes cascading on the computer screen could theoretically be deciphered by computer programmers. So far as we can tell, neuralese might be utterly incomprehensible to humans. And that is a reason to worry...
All this stuff presents an opportunity to reflect on the changing nature of language. Throughout the years I have borne witness to some noticeable changes in the English language. When I was a kid, saying I can't believe what I'm hearing was a no-no. It is still not too elegant, but native speakers of all walks of life do use that structure now. Similarly, the sentence I recommend you to go was unquestionably incorrect three decades ago. And words such as cringe and chill were nouns and verbs, but never adjectives. These days many GenZers speak like that (that's cringe / he's so chill). Will those novelties become mainstream in a couple of years? Who knows?
Pronunciation is also a changing creature. If you are one of the three people who follow this blog, you will remember my thoughts on some types of pronunciation which are currently fading away? One of those features was the aspiration in words such as why, what or where.
Last summer (August 2026), Dolly Parton passed away. She belonged to a generation and a region in which it was not unusual to pronounce that H-sound in words like what. I recommend that you watch the clip below and listen to the way she used to pronounce the word nowhere. Technically that initial H-like sound is not exactly the same as the H in hello. Rather, it sounds a little like a whispered [w]. Anyway, that specific feature still survives in some areas in New England and the South (not anywhere in the South, though), but clearly it is on a decline. So... Languages change. It's in their very nature. If it wasn't like that in Spain we would still be speaking Latin and you, competent speaker of English would have no difficulty whatsoever understanding something as simple as Hu wᴂs ƥin weorc?
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N.B. In case you're scratching your head about it, Hu wᴂs ƥin weorc? means How was work?
There are cultures that love the overstatement. Without batting an eye an American speaker will tell you you're the best when they really mean you're good or I like you. In some parts of Spain (or so the stereotype goes) people have a reputation for exaggerating. Something similar can be said about certain parts of the world. The gospels offer a famous example of deliberate hyperbole: it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich person to enter the kingdom of God. That particular verse doesn't set out to mean it is impossible, but ratherit is extremely difficult. The expression is obviously a figure of speech, namely, not supposed to be taken at face value. I could go off on a bit of a tangent here and mention that hyperbole is not always appropriate. The way I see it, there are many situations in which people expect exact information and will not tolerate anything remotely resembling a figure of speech. Off the top of my head I can think of an oncologist telling a patient how long they have to live, the CEO of a company addressing stockholders in a general meeting and a teacher telling a student's parents about their child's abilities. In such scenarios anything other than the literal truth is tantamount to lying.
Nevertheless, in casual circumstances, competent speakers will engage in ridiculous exaggerations often to comic effect. The British culture, however, goes in the opposite direction. Most British speakers will shy away from the overstatement and, instead, go for the understatement. So, a bona fide expert will say I have some experience in that area and a soldier in the trenches of an ongoing battle will text his wife that things are not too bad. That tendency to fall short of the full truth also explains an essential part of British humor.
An advanced English speaker is expected to decode an over-the-top statement so that he or she can understand a Welsh castaway, for instance, when they say that the ship encountered some difficulty. Needless to say, you might want to choose your words carefully specially when you speak in a professional capacity. Exaggerations that work when you hang out with your friends may not be acceptable at a business meeting, neither in Wales nor in New Zealand.
Anyhow, whatever your views on this fascinating subject might be, I think you should be sensitive to cultural differences if you don't want to misinterpret simple sentences. The clip below recounts the story of an aviation incident in which a British pilot made epic use of the understatement. Enjoy.
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N.B. If you're interested in this aspecto of British humor you can also watch this other short in which the late Ken Robinson makes glorious use of an understatement (that was quite an oversight, isn't it?) and sarcasm (we all know what great heights the glee club went on to).
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.
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 is to say, to say things that you don't hear or read every day. That's the whole point of his craft. In other words, 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, including 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.
