The Art of the Insult

Have you ever had a time, when you wanted to tell someone off, but were constrained because he was your boss, or, she was your customer, or she was your wife and you did not feel like sleeping on the couch?

An insult is a disparaging remark.  It is verbal riposte, a play on words, and an exaggeration of attributes.  To really hurt, there must be an element of truth.  An insult need not be obscene, profane or vulgar.  Where is the challenge in mere abuse?  There is no class there.

Insults have been used throughout history, in our literature, in our diplomacy, and even in our scripture.  In Ancient Greece and Rome, insults were a genre of plays.  They were both social and political commentary.  Even the works of William Shakespeare were replete with insults.

Closer to our time, from the Romantics era, we have people like Samuel Langhorne Clemens, better known as “Mark Twain”, and Oscar Fingal O’Flahertie Wills Wilde.  For example, Samuel Clemens once said, “Last week, I stated this woman was the ugliest woman I had ever seen.  I have since been visited by her sister, and now wish to withdraw that statement.”

Oscar Wilde once observed, “Some cause happiness wherever they go; others whenever they go.”

In the Industrial Age, John Montagu, 4^th Earl of Sandwich, from the House of Lords, verbally sparred with John Wilkes, from the House of Commons.  So, there is a class element here.  Montagu allegedly said, “Sir, I do not know whether you will die on the gallows or of the pox,”

Wilkes is reported to have replied, “That depends, my lord, on whether I embrace your lordship’s politics or your mistress.”

Closer to our time, we have the apocryphal exchange between Sir Winston Leonard Spencer-Churchill, and Viscountess Nancy Witcher Langhorne Astor, who sat on opposite sides of Parliament.  She once exclaimed, “Winston, if you were my husband, I’d poison your tea.”

Churchill replied, “Nancy, if I were your husband, I’d drink it.”

Lady Astor said, “Sir, you are drunk.”

Churchill retorted, “That may be so, Madam.  But tomorrow, I will be sober, and you will still be ugly.”

The art of the insult sharpens our wit.  It requires knowledge of the one being addressed, their context and quick thinking.  These are the traits of thinkers, of ponderers and of contemplators.  It moves the masses, and a witty reply lives on, long after people may have even forgotten our names.

How does this apply to us?  A witty retort is better than the ache of swallowing a thousand hurts.  It allows us to have our say before power, without facing the full consequences.  After all, English is a language where “ingenious” is very clever, and “ingenuous” is very stupid.  And knowing the difference between the two, lies the art of the insult.