European Diary: German chancellor Angela Merkel won all the plaudits for her skilful handling of negotiations on the EU's climate change package last week. But it was her wise words on the forthcoming Berlin Declaration on March 25th, the EU's 50th birthday, that led to a collective sigh of relief and a few chuckles among the EU's 1,400-strong press corps.
The chancellor pledged to draw up a "people-friendly" declaration, with a text which would be easily readable, and without the "traditional language of the EU" or the technical terms of bureaucrats, she added.
Most readers are probably only aware of the 23 official languages of the union - the list grew in January with the addition of Bulgarian, Romanian and Irish. But there is a 24th, more sinister, linguistic monster that stalks the corridors of the European Commission, Parliament and Council - the language of Eurospeak.
It is the sworn enemy of journalists, whose job it is to try to make some sense of the complicated Brussels bureaucracy to an apathetic public. Yet every EU press release, commission memo or council conclusion is laden with strange terms such as "comitology" (which to my complete surprise turned out not to be the study of comets) or "convergence criteria", which must be decoded before being put to use.
Take for example last week's EU summit, where leaders agreed a shorter than normal list of 39 conclusions. This text sets a political direction for the EU and is stuffed full of Eurospeak. My favourite example was a phrase inserted at the insistence of Irish diplomats: "The commission is invited to examine, together with member states, how multilateral discipline in relation to state aids can be strengthened and further developed within the context of external competitiveness."
The Taoiseach, Bertie Ahern, later explained to bewildered hacks that this meant the EU shouldn't stop states giving grants to firms such as Intel that want to establish new factories when the only competition for the investment is from outside the EU.
It is saying something when "Bertiespeak" can be held up as a model of clarity, although the beauty with Eurospeak is that it too can be interpreted in different ways.
Diplomatic sleight of hand is a prerequisite for any self-respecting EU diplomat. And couching controversial political objectives in vague and complicated Eurospeak is the typical method of ironing out disagreements between member states.
So to overcome eastern European and French objections to setting a 20 per cent binding target for the use of renewable energy by 2020, diplomats last week inserted the phrase "taking into account national circumstances and the relevant base years for the first commitment period of the Kyoto Protocol" in the summit conclusions. In plain English, this means giving states like France and Poland wriggle room to avoid the 20 per cent target. But to keep up appearances, this can't be admitted so openly.
In fairness, diplomatic jargon is not the sole preserve of the Brussels elite. And if it can be used effectively to seal key deals on climate change or increase pressure on the Sudanese regime over its behaviour in Darfur, then it is probably worth keeping.
But there is no doubt that Eurospeak goes out of its way to create barriers to public understanding of the EU. For example, acronyms are rattled out at official briefings at machine-gun speed, often, it seems, to mystify the punter. It took me some time to work out that a Gaerc, or general affairs and external relations council, is actually just a meeting of foreign ministers. Likewise, Ecofin refers to a finance ministers' meeting, while Ecosoc is a consultative body of union and trade representatives.
However, acronyms don't apply to "informal" meetings of ministers, which are meetings where no official decisions are taken. That would be too easy. Some bright spark dreamed up the idea of calling an "informal" foreign ministers' meeting a "Gymnich", after the castle in Germany where the first meeting took place in 1974.
Then there are numerous EU working groups that are named after their founders, such as the Antici group, which is made up of assistants to the EU ambassadors.
Is it any wonder EU politicians complain that the public doesn't understand how the EU works? The union may spend €65 million a year communicating its message, but much of it gets lost in translation.
So good luck with the declaration, Dr Merkel, and let's hope you can make my job a little easier. Please drop the jargon and celebrate plain English, French or Irish on March 25th.
Eurobabble: breaking the code
Convergence criteria: tests national economies have to pass before joining the euro.
First pillar laws: economic, social and environmental policies.
Comitology: procedure involving EU committees which can pass new regulations.
Qualified majority voting or QMV: system of voting at the council where each country commands a certain number of votes depending on its population.
Coreper: the name given to regular meetings of EU ambassadors.
For further help click on www.euro parl. org.uk/EU/textonly/txeurospeak.htm or www.news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/europe/ 3595155.stm