Lost for words

Do certain words set your teeth on edge? One of my particular hates is the word ‘iconic’. Russians and Russian icons I can handle. I even kissed one once (an icon that is) at the Alexander Nevsky Cathedral, but when Britney Spears becomes an ‘iconic singer’ I fear the word truly has lost its way.

In that I’m not alone. Even the Liverpool Daily post agrees (and that is enough to make anyone nervous):

IF THERE is one word that makes my flesh creep, it is "iconic". We've had a bit of rush on this word, especially in Liverpool's Capital of Culture year, pressed into service to describe almost anything. Anything, that is, which lacks any other category and is, by definition, useless.

Originally “icon” derived from the Greek meaning simply a likeness, a portrait or an image and for centuries remained linked to Christian images of Jesus, The Virgin Mary etc as part of Orthodox Christianity. Such images were of course the targets of the original iconoclasts, aghast at the temerity of those who dared give visual form to the Trinity.

The word “iconic”, is the one word the media and the chattering classes it seems can’t live without. Once used sparingly and in context, is now everywhere. We can trace it from Jesus to Marmite, via Hitler, Stalin and stadium rock, and all the way to Gucci shoes and thongs.

Here are some nouns that have been prefixed by this vogue word, all have been drawn recently from the internet:

Iconic assassin, iconic baby lotion, iconic brand, iconic bridge, iconic bucket, iconic button fly, iconic camper van, iconic car, iconic CCTV camera, iconic celebration, iconic chainsaw, iconic chair, iconic chef, iconic chimpanzee, iconic clock, iconic cocktail, iconic combover, iconic comedy, iconic cooling tower, iconic cricket bat, iconic crisps, iconic diaper, iconic doll, iconic dreadlocks, iconic earthmover, iconic episode of “Emmerdale”, iconic escalator, iconic enema, iconic field armour, iconic film star, iconic fishing reel, iconic flat cap, iconic garden, iconic goggles, iconic gorilla, iconic guitarist, iconic hairstyle, iconic hand cream, iconic high heels, iconic hitman, iconic house, iconic ice cream, iconic icon, iconic injury, iconic injury-time winner, iconic itinerary, iconic jihad target, iconic jigsaw, iconic jingle, iconic joke, iconic kitchen utensil, iconic knowledge, iconic lawnmower, iconic leprechaun, iconic light fitting, iconic lip balm, iconic mascara, iconic milkshake, iconic moment, iconic moustache, iconic mouthwash, iconic movie, iconic murder, iconic ointment, iconic orangutan, iconic palace, iconic panda, iconic penis, iconic perfume, iconic philosophy, iconic photograph, iconic pimp, iconic playwright, iconic plumber, iconic pub, iconic relationship, iconic restaurant, iconic retail mall, iconic robot, iconic saddle, iconic sandwich, iconic sausage, iconic shampoo, iconic shoe, iconic silhouette, iconic soft drink, iconic sound system, iconic steeplejack, iconic stethoscope, iconic submachinegun, iconic sunglasses, iconic surgeon, iconic taxi, iconic terrorist, iconic toaster, iconic toilet paper, iconic toilet seat, iconic tracksuit, iconic trenchcoat, iconic typeface, iconic vending machine, iconic vindaloo, iconic wedding dress, iconic wheelchair, iconic wig, iconic wine, iconic yak, iconic yogurt, iconic hoodie.

I mean how about iconic mouthwash! On the other hand an iconic thong sounds painful.

It’s been said that “words have meaning.” If so, we really should choose our words more carefully. ‘Iconic’ like so many other words has now been rendered meaningless. The media goaded on by stupid and greedy politicians and glib marketers have now propelled us into an era of incontinent celebration and exponential hyperbole.

Language has become vacuous. No-one gives 100% anymore: 120% is normal and 150% far from exceptional. Everything is world-class – even toilet seats. A new supermarket offering of cod fillets which once might have been designated as passable is today awesome. Any rock band that survives drug-induced stupor, amnesia and managerial peculation are now, assuming they can still climb onto the stage, re-badged as legendary. Normal folk going quietly about their business in the Lofoten Islands or Dewsbury gutting herrings or making bread, now find themselves food heroes.

Every area of routine endeavor now aspires to a grandiose awards ceremony: the Toilet Seat Industry Awards, the Demolition Oscars, the Contract Cleaning Baftas, and, of course, yes it exists, the Awards Industry Awards. The poor man’s Playboy magazine GQ even hosts an ‘Icon of the Year.’ I of course wait with bated breath for Al Jazeera to host ‘The Gardens of Paradise Martyrdom Awards’ with the compère predictably announcing: ‘although the winner can’t be with us tonight – the carnage in Jerusalem was truly iconic.’

Given the public appetite for idolatry, it is apt that “iconic” should be the adjective of the age. Even though perversely as soon as somebody becomes ‘iconic’ there is an even a greater need witnessed by the gutter press to re-render them fallen icons.

Implicit in the current use of “iconic” is the media’s desire to invest objects and people with properties which render them miraculous, magical and godlike. It is today’s expression of humankind’s perennial bent towards aggrandisement and worship of other humans, and dubious commercial inventions.

Myself? I increasingly lean to simple English, if I have any ambition at all it is not to become ‘iconic’ but simply “a living legend among the vertical matrixing community.