A woman in Florida interviewed after the US presidential election said just thinking about George W. Bush made her "tear-up". Not the ballot paper; she was referring instead to tears in her eyes - as in: "Even contemplating his re-election made me want to cry".
In Fallujah, a US marine used "rubble" and "pancake" as verbs: "We don't want to rubble the city" - but if enemy firing were identified from a house then he and his band of brothers would "pancake the building". And sorry about the "collateral damage" - civilian deaths.
Both Bush and Kerry in their final speeches of the campaign said how much they had enjoyed meeting "people on the rope-lines" - members of the public held back by security cordons.
The English language is constantly being refreshed and replenished by new words or phrases and many, these days, come from America. But old words can also develop new meanings.
Now there are some gentlefolk left for whom "wickedness" involves a small amontillado before Sunday lunch. But for most young people alcohol in more copious quantities is "wicked" - as in very good and highly desirable.
A "cent" is no longer exclusively associated with the dollar - it's what your thoughts are worth in the Eurozone and drivers must now use terms such as "driving in a 50-kilometre zone" or "caught doing 160 on the Naas dual-carriageway". Food is now "plated up" rather than just served - and whatever happened to gravy? It has been replaced by mysterious "jus" at restaurants across the country. And the correct response to a waiter asking "Is Sir enjoying his meal?" appears to be: "I'm lovin' it".
If you've been having a lie-down since the days when there was honey still for tea and "gay" was how Maud felt when invited into the garden, you may have missed that word's torrid transmutation. Being gay was until recently an almost mandatory requirement to succeed in New Labour but its latest use is to witheringly describe something nerdish or unfashionable. Brunch, shoe polish, Ulster loyalism and the Eurovision Song Contest are "gay". But remember it's a bit "sad" for adults to use youth slang. Pathetic, really.
Certain Australian phrases are becoming ubiquitous in London - spread by the popularity of TV soaps and the large numbers of cheery Antipodeans who help to fuel the city's nightlife by staffing most of the bars and supplying an inordinate number of the customers. Thank a barman for his service and you'll receive the ocker reply "No worries, mate" - the equivalent of Kilkenny's "No bother".
Use of the word "crack" is becoming widespread in Britain - and not just in relation to cocaine. "Plastic Paddies" - people born in England of Irish parentage - have a reputation for being "great crack". The verb "banjax" is also gaining currency and "banjaxed", meaning drunk, has been popularised through its occasional use by the BBC broadcaster Terry Wogan.
"Gobshite", once unknown or taboo, is today considered acceptable in British as well as Irish speech. It was effectively launched by the film The Commitments and further popularised by television's Father Ted. When another Roddy Doyle book, The Snapper, was being filmed it emerged that the British censor did not understand the word "feck". It is now also considered respectable. Anecdotal evidence would suggest that "eejit" could be an emerging dark horse.
If children giggle at your New Year's resolution to spend more time at the gym it may be because improving your "fitness" is a lost cause. Dennis from EastEnders is "fit", apparently while Coronation Street's Candice is reckoned to be "super-fit". And neither ever seems to work out.
Certain words have been around for a surprisingly long time. "Celeb" was coined before the first World War and "mobile phone" appeared at the end of the second.
Every year dictionaries clamour to announce which new words have become "acceptable". New entries gain access to the Oxford English Dictionary only if they have "become established in the language". This requires several independent examples of the word being used for a reasonable span of time.
In 2004 the most commonly used new word in Britain was "chav". A dispute about its origin sparked a lively correspondence in the Daily Telegraph with one letter-writer claiming that the word is derived from "Cheltenham average" a phrase allegedly used by pupils at the town's posh school for young ladies to describe local youths. But there is consensus about its meaning. It refers, disparagingly, to louts with a fondness for baseball caps, hooded sportswear, bling-bling jewellery and designer labels. Burberry is especially favoured - leading some pubs and clubs to bar entry to those wearing items of clothing displaying the famous check pattern.
Collins has created a web-based word exchange to log neologisms. The "Tsunami Generation" has already emerged to describe those orphaned by the disaster in southeast Asia.
Meanwhile Irish word fans have been campaigning successfully for the word "langer". Jeremy Butterfield, editor in chief of Collins English Dictionaries said: "I have never seen such passion about a single word before. We have fast-tracked it straight into the Living Dictionary as it so obviously deserves a place". It is defined as a noun meaning a fool or an idiot and as an adjective, "langers", meaning extremely drunk.
Collins was "awed" by the response from Ireland and asked, "Is a Cork/Dublin divide developing over the use of langer to describe drunkenness? Is the term only suitable for describing men - can women ever be langers?" Women "langers" in Cork? The European Capital of Culture? Not on your nellie.