Probe

Probe (pronounced prohb)

(1) To search into or examine thoroughly; question closely; an investigation, especially by a legislative committee, of suspected illegal activity.

(2) To examine or explore with or as if with a probe; the act of probing.

(3) A slender surgical instrument for exploring the depth or direction of a wound, sinus, or the like.

(4) In aerospace, an unmanned exploration spacecraft.

(5) A projecting, pipe-like device on a receiving aircraft used to make connection with and receive fuel from a tanker aircraft during refuelling in flight.

(6) A device, attached by cord to an oven that can be inserted into food so the oven shuts off when the desired internal temperature of the food is reached.

(7) In biochemistry, any identifiable substance that is used to detect, isolate, or identify another substance, as a labelled strand of DNA that hybridizes with its complementary RNA or a monoclonal antibody that combines with a specific protein.

(8) In electronics, a lead connecting to or containing a measuring or monitoring circuit used for testing; a conductor inserted into a waveguide or cavity resonator to provide coupling to an external circuit

1555–1565: From the Medieval Latin proba (examination (“test” in Late Latin)), derivative of probāre (to test, examine, prove), from probus (good).  The Spanish tienta (a surgeon's probe) came from tentar (try, test).  The dual meanings in Latin ((1) instrument for exploring wounds etc and (2) an examination) persist in English.  The sense "act of probing" is from 1890, from the verb; the figurative sense of "penetrating investigation" is from 1903.  The use to describe a "small, unmanned exploratory spacecraft" is attested from 1953; unrelated to this is the curious popularity of aliens subjecting humans to examinations with anal probes in stories of alien abduction.  Probe is a noun & verb, probing & probed are verbs, probeable is an adjective and probingly is an adverb; the noun plural is probes.

The Voyager 1 space probe, launched by NASA in 1977.

Originally (with companion probe Voyager 2) a twelve-year mission, it’s expected to remain a functional scientific instrument until 2025 and is now some 24 billion km (15 billion miles) away, the most distant human-made object from Earth (only our radio waves have travelled further).  There are some who claim the probes have already reached inter-stellar space while other astronomers  maintain the edge of our solar system extends much further than was once thought and they're travelling still through a sort of cosmic limbo.  The Voyager probes, even after they're long inert, may continue their journeys for thousands or millions of years because, although the universe is a violent, destructive swirl, there is vast distance between threatening stuff.

Of the many inconsistencies in English spelling, none must be seem more mystifying to anyone learning the language than those words affected by the “mute e rule”: the inflections and derivatives formed from words ending in a “silent e”.  The question always is: to e or not to e?  Deciding whether to retain or omit the last letter is easier than once it was because dictionaries seem now to be more consistent in their approach, presumably one of the benefits of their shift to becoming on-line resources although, for historic reasons, we seem stuck with what seem ancient, arbitrary decisions such as ageing and icing continuing in peaceful co-existence.  So, there are words where centuries of particular spellings have become entrenched that to suggest a change would be absurd and that means any rule would have both examples which conform and those which defy.  Henry Fowler (1858–1933) in his A Dictionary of Modern English Usage (1926) acknowledged the impossibility of constructing a rule of absolute validity but as a guide offered (1) an indicative rule and (2) a guide to the exceptions.  The (1) rule was “when a suffix is added to a word ending in a mute e, the mute e should be dropped before a vowel but not before a consonant”.  The condition for (2) an exception was “the mute e should be kept even before a vowel if it is needed to indicate the soft sound of a preceding g or c or to distinguish a word from another with the same spelling”.  Probe is such an exception because if one has a probe, it’s helpful to know if something (or someone according to those who have been abducted by aliens) is probeable and that adjective can’t be spelled “probable” because that has another meaning.

The Mazda MX-6-based Ford Probe (1988-1997, left) and the car it was once mooted to replace, the long-serving “Fox” Mustang (1978-1993).

A competent, inoffensive coupé, the Ford Probe probably would for a decade existed as a moderate success and then, having been discontinued without a direct replacement, been soon forgotten, had it not been for the furore which erupted when the idea surfaced it might be the company’s replacement for the Mustang.  In 1987, by means of a “controlled leak” the pro-Mustang faction (the beer drinkers) within the corporation let it be known Ford was planning to replace the Mustang with a re-badged Mazda (championed by the chardonnay faction).  The reaction was vociferous & voluminous, Ford’s mailbox (and in 1987 mail came in envelopes with postage stamps stuck on) soon overflowing with complaints, the idea of a FWD (front-wheel-drive) Mustang anathematic, the absence of a V8 apparently beyond comprehension (although the Mustang II (1973-1978) had suffered that fate between 1973-1975).

Newspaper headline writers like the word “probe”.  Within the industry, short, punchy words like “probe”, “jab”, “fix”, “bid” etc are part of a subset of English called “headline language”.

The correspondents also put their money where their poison pens were because the previously moribund sales of Mustangs suddenly spiked, the thought that this might be the last chance to buy a “proper” RWD (rear-wheel-drive), V8-powered Mustang enough to push the thing back up the sales chart.  The flow of letters and cash proved enough to persuade Ford and the platform was reprieved, the Mustang surviving to this day as a unique and highly profitable niche; indeed, by 2026 it was the only traditional "car" Ford manufactured in the US.  The Mazda co-project however was well advanced so the decision was taken to proceed and offer both; badged as the Ford Probe, the modified Mazda lasted a decade-odd and it’s doubtful it cannibalized much of the Mustang’s market, its competition the other mid-sized, FWD Japanese coupés which had become popular.  A typical Japanese product, well engineered with a high build-quality, the Probe was a success (though it never realised Ford’s hopes in overseas markets) and when production ended, the only reason it wasn’t replaced was the demographic buying the things had shifted to other segments, notably the SUVs (sports utility vehicles) which would soon dominate.

1969 M-505 Adams Brothers Probe 16 (Durango 95)

The still controversial film A Clockwork Orange (1971) was based on the dystopian 1962 novel of the same name by Anthony Burgess (1917–1993).  At the time shocking in its depiction of violence, it's set some time in the future and as part of the verisimilitude the car used in the "driving scene" was a M-505 Adams Brothers Probe 16, one of three built.  Only 34 inches (864 mm) high (the prototype was 5 inches (125 mm) lower!), it emerged from the studios of the designers of the quirky Marcos sports cars which were idiosyncratic even by the standards of the cottage industry of low-volume sports cars which flourished in the UK until the early 1970s.  Although utterly impractical (passengers entered and exited through a sliding glass roof) it certainly looked futuristic but performance was disappointing because of the limited power. To create the mid-engined Probe, the designers used the engine and gearbox from the modest Austin 1800, moving the FWD package amidships, an approach later adopted by a number of manufacturers.  Had it been built using the mechanicals from the contemporary Cadillac Eldorado (which improbably had a 472 cubic inch (7.7 litre) V8 driving the front wheels through a chain-drive transaxle), assuming such a thing could be made to fit, it would have offered performance to match the promise of the looks.  In the film, the Probe was given the name “Durango 95” a name which seems to have chosen for no particular reason although the “95” may have been an allusion to 1995, decades away when the book was written.  Although A Clockwork Orange is perhaps not something with which manufacturers would like their products to be associated, many have since used the Durango name for a variety of purposes.

Driving scene in A Clockwork Orange (1971): 1969 M-505 Adams Brothers Probe 16 (Durango 95).

Proctology

Proctology (pronounced prok-tol-uh-jee)

(1) Historically, the branch of medicine dealing with the surgery of the colon, rectum, and anus.

(2) In modern use, colorectal surgery as a specialty inside (as it were) proctology.

(3) A department or building so named in a hospital, university or clinic etc.

1896: The construct was procto- +‎ -logy or proct- + -ology.  Procto was from a Latinized form of the Greek prōktos (anus), from the primitive Indo-European prokto-, the source also of Armenian erastan-k' (buttocks).  The suffix -ology was formed from -o- (as an interconsonantal vowel) +‎ -logy.  The origin in English of the -logy suffix lies with loanwords from the Ancient Greek, usually via Latin and French, where the suffix (-λογία) is an integral part of the word loaned (eg astrology from astrologia) since the sixteenth century.  French picked up -logie from the Latin -logia, from the Ancient Greek -λογία (-logía).  Within Greek, the suffix is an -ία (-ía) abstract from λόγος (lógos) (account, explanation, narrative), and that a verbal noun from λέγω (légō) (I say, speak, converse, tell a story).  In English the suffix became extraordinarily productive, used notably to form names of sciences or disciplines of study, analogous to the names traditionally borrowed from the Latin (eg astrology from astrologia; geology from geologia) and by the late eighteenth century, the practice (despite the disapproval of the pedants) extended to terms with no connection to Greek or Latin such as those building on French or German bases (eg insectology (1766) after the French insectologie; terminology (1801) after the German Terminologie).  Within a few decades of the intrusion of modern languages, combinations emerged using English terms (eg undergroundology (1820); hatology (1837)).  In this evolution, the development may be though similar to the latter-day proliferation of “-isms” (fascism; feminism etc).  A physician specializing in proctology is a proctologist although some may prefer the punchier construction Bart Simpson (from the cartoon TV series The Simpsons), used: “butt doctor”.  The noun proctalgia (pain in the anus or rectum) existed in the medical literature as early as 1811 while the first known use of “proctologist” dates from 1897.  Proctology & proctologist are nouns and proctologic & proctological are adjectives; the noun plural is protologists.

In 1974, The British Medical Journal (BMJ) used the term “guitar nipple” to describe “the irritation to the breast that can occur from the pressure of the guitar against the body.”  In the same spirit, two years later a contributor to the Journal of the American Medical Association (JAMA) was more imaginative still, coining “hot pants syndrome” when documenting cases in which a burn to the skin had been induced by a patient carrying a battery-powered transistor radio in the pocket of their trousers.  There was also in 1978 the New England Journal of Medicine's (NEJM) “disco digit” which referred to “a sore or infected finger caused by too much finger snapping while dancing.”  These terms were indicative of the trend in the English-speaking world for newly-identified (and in some cases novel conditions) to be constructed with English elements, rather than the Latin historically used.  In the fields of proctology, the historic terms (of discomfort in the region) were:

Rectalgia (pain in the rectum), the construct being rect- (a clipping of the New Latin rectum, itself a clipping of the Latin rectum intestinum (literally “the straight intestine”), neuter of rectus (straight) +‎ -algia (from the New Latin -algia (pain), from the Ancient Greek ἄλγος (álgos) (pain).

Proctalgia (pain in the anal or rectal region), the construct being proct- (a New Latin combining form, from Ancient Greek πρωκτός (prōktós) (anus).+‎ -algia.

Anodynia (anal pain; anorectal pain), the construct being ano- (from the Latin anus) + -dynia (an alternative (used when the preceding morpheme has a terminal vowel) form of -odynia (a New Latin combining form, from the Ancient Greek ὀδύνη (odúnē) (sorrow, grief, anguish, unhappiness).

Confusingly though, because terminology evolved often independently an in parallel, medicine contrived to use anodynia also to mean “the absence of pain in a previously painful region” and in that case the construct differed, being an- (from the Ancient Greek ἀν- (an-); a doublet of un- and in- (used her in the sense of a negation) +‎ odynia (a New Latin combining form, from the Ancient Greek ὀδύνη (odúnē) (sorrow, grief, anguish, unhappiness).  So for the non-medically trained, confusion could arise given anodynia can mean either “pain in the butt” or “pain has gone away” although because it’s a word unlikely much to be seen by other than the medically trained, instances of this have presumably been rare.  But in the context of “butt pain” there would seem to be some overlap in meaning between rectalgia, proctalgia & anodynia but while all are used to refer to “pain in or around the rectal area”, in the profession there are distinctions in use, particularly in clinical and diagnostic work 

Rectalgia is used to describe pain localized in the rectum and tends to be used as general term for the condition and often without specifying a cause.  Conditions associated with rectalgia include anorectal abscesses and fissures.  Proctalgia encompasses pain in the anorectal region (both anus and rectum) and is commonly used of proctalgia fugax, a specific condition characterized by sudden, severe, and brief rectal pain with no obvious underlying cause.  As the etymology suggests, proctalgia’s remit is broader than that of rectalgia because it includes both anus and rectum.  Whether or not related to the duality of meaning, anodynia is now not in general clinical use but historically it referred to pain in the vicinity of the anus.  The modern terms for that are “anal pain” & “anorectal pain”.  So, although lay-readers might be forgiven for thinking they could be used interchangeably, clinicians applied them based on anatomical location: rectalgia (rectum), anodynia (anus) &, proctalgia (anorectal region).

In the thoughts of Kellyanne Conway: A protologist's ultrasonic rectal probe (available in 140 & 200 mm (5½ & 8 inch) length versions) by the Electro Surgical Instrument Company (ESI (1896)).

Protology and pains in the butt do feature in idiomatic use in English.  Kellyanne Conway (b 1967; senior counselor to the US president, 2017-2020) when discussing the “Muller probe” (an investigation by special counsel Robert Mueller (1944) into Donald Trump (b 1946; US president 2017-2021; president elect 2024) and the matter of alleged Russian interference in the 2016 US presidential election) told a press conference the whole project was “a political proctology exam.”  She clearly liked the imagery because later, when Mr Muller handed down his report, she told the assembled press pack it was the “best day” since Mr Trump’s (2016) election, repeated the phrase “political proctology” and, sticking with medical allusions, said the verdict delivered “a clean bill of health.”

PITB (and its variations) is widely used.

Kellyanne Conway in hoodie: Miss January, Clare Boothe Luce Policy Institute's annual Conservative Women Calendar (2009).

So like Mr Trump, Ms Conway would have found the Muller probe a (metaphorical) pain in the butt but “political proctology exam” was both a more polite and elegant way of saying it.  The saying “pain in the butt” belongs to a class of such expressions (all meaning “a nuisance; a source of trouble or annoyance”) which variously are used according to the need for politeness, the hierarchy of rudeness (in ascending order) being: “pain in the neck”, “pain in the brain”, “pain in the back” (all about equal), “pain in the rear”, “pain in the bum”, “pain in the ass” & “pain in the arse” (the choice between “ass” & “arse” dictated by linguistic tradition).  All are often used as initializms (PITN PITB, PITR, PITA) and PITA seems the most popular while in oral use “pain in the neck” and “pain in the ass (arse)” vie for popularity although some do like “pain in the brain” for the rhyme.

First edition (hardcover, 1956) of Soranus' Gynecology, published by Johns Hopkins University Press, translated and with an introduction by Owsei Temkin MD (1902-2002).

Quite when the idea of “specialists” in the modern sense of the word came to the practice of medicine isn’t certain but long before such things were formalized by the creation of colleges or specialist qualifications, it’s likely the early physicians did tend to develop particular areas of expertise and would have had certain patients referred to them, much as is the modern practice.  Probably, this emergence of specialties would have happened organically, based on geography: a physician in a fishing community on the sunny Aegean coast would have encountered a different patient profile than one who worked in the cold of the mountains.  Thus, while it’s not known who can be though the “first proctologist”, medical students everywhere will probably nominate Soranus of Ephesus, a Greek physician who practiced in both Alexandria and Rome during the first & second century AD.  His four-volume treatise on gynecology still exists so he probably deserves to be remembered as an early gynecologist but, as many medical students will confirm, his name is pronounced sawr-ey-nuhs so a proto-proctologist he must be.  Such things do happen: Winston Churchill’s (1875-1965; UK prime-minister 1940-1945 & 1951-1955) neurologist was Russell Brain (1895–1966).

Tent

Tent (pronounced tent)

(1) A portable shelter of skins, canvas, plastic, or the like, supported by one or more poles or a frame and often secured by ropes fastened to pegs in the ground.

(2) Something that resembles a tent (often as tent-like).

(3) A type of frock (usually as tent-dress).

(4) In casual political discourse (popularized by US President (1963-1969) Lyndon Johnson (1908-1973) (as “inside the tent”) a term to distinguish between those inside or outside the institutionalized political system.

(5) To give or pay attention to; to heed (Scots; largely archaic).

(6) In first-aid (medicine), a roll or pledget, usually of soft absorbent material, as lint or gauze, for dilating an orifice, keeping a wound open, etc.

(7) A red table wine from Alicante, Spain (obsolete).

(8) A sixteenth century word for a dark-colored tint (from the Spanish tinto (obsolete)).

(9) A portable pulpit set up outside to accommodate worshippers who cannot fit into a church (Scots; largely archaic).

1250–1300: From the Middle English tente (a probe) from the twelfth century Old French tente (tent, hanging, tapestry) from the Latin tenta, (a tent; literally literally "something stretched out”), noun use of feminine singular of the Latin tentus, (stretched), past participle of tendere (to extend; stretch) from the primitive Indo-European root ten (to stretch).  Technically, the Old French tente was a noun derivative of tenter from the Latin tentāre, variant of temptāre (to probe, test, to try). Despite some sources claiming the Latin tentōrium translates literally as “tent”, the correct meaning rather “something stretched out” from tendere (to extend; stretch); related was the Latin temptāre, source of the modern “tempt”.

In Middle English, tent (noun) (attention) was an aphetic variant of attent from the Old French atente (attention, intention) from the Latin attenta, feminine of attentus, past participle of attendere (to attend).  Word thus evolved in meaning to describe a structure of stretched fabric under which people could attend events.  The French borrowing wholly displaced the native Middle English tild & tilt (tent, til”) from the Old English teld (tent). The closest in Spanish is tienda (store, shop; tent).  The verb sense of "to camp in a tent" is attested from 1856, "to pitch a tent" noted a few years earlier.  The modern sense of tent and the relationship to words related to “stretch” is that the first tents were ad-hoc structures, created by stretching hides over wooden framework.  In arachnology, the Tent caterpillar, first recorded 1854, gained its name from the tent-like silken webs in which, gregariously they live.

FBI director J Edgar Hoover & President Johnson, the White House, 1967.

The phrase “inside the tent” is a bowdlerized version of words most frequently attributed to Lyndon Johnson (1908–1973 (LBJ); US president 1969-1969) explaining why, on assuming the presidency, he chose not to act on his original inclination (and the recommendation of some of his advisors) not to renew the appointment of J Edgar Hoover (1895–1972; director of US Federal Bureau of Investigation (FBI) 1924-1972): “Well, it’s probably better to have him inside the tent pissing out, than outside the tent pissing in.”  That may have been sound political judgement from one of the most Machiavellian operators of the modern age but an indication also of the fear (shared by not a few others) of what damaging and even incriminating information about LBJ Hoover may have locked in his secret files.

Lord Beaverbrook & Winston Churchill, Canada, 1941.

LBJ’s sometimes scatological references often involved bodily functions but much of it drew on the earthy language he learned from decades of political horse trading in Texas, another favourite when speaking of decision-making being: “There comes a point when you have to piss or get off the pot”.  Nor were the words used of Hoover original, the earliest known references in exchanges in the early twentieth century between the Arabists in the UK’s Foreign Colonial offices as “…keeping the camel inside the tent”.  In the vein of the US State Department’s later “He might be a son of a bitch but he’s our son of a bitch”, it was an acknowledgement often it was desirable to in some way appease the odd emir so that he might remain an annoying but manageable nuisance rather than a potentially dangerous enemy.  When it came to colonial fixes, the foreign office had rare skills.  Winston Churchill (1875-1965; UK prime-minister 1940-1945 & 1951-1955) recycled the joke in 1940 when, after being advised by George VI (1895–1952; King of the United Kingdom 1936-1952) not to include Lord Beaverbrook (Maxwell Aitken, 1879-1964) in his administration, the king’s concerns including being well aware of why the press lord had gained his nickname “been a crook”.

House minority leader Gerald Ford & President Johnson, the White House, 1967.

One quip however does seem to be original, LBJ’s crude humor the source also of the phrase “walk and chew gum”, used to refer to the ability (or inability) of governments to focus on more than one issue.  It was a sanitized version of a comment made by LBJ after watching a typically pedestrian television performance by Gerald Ford (1913–2006; US president 1974-1977), then minority leader (Republican) in the House of Representatives: “Jerry Ford is so dumb he can't fart and chew gum at the same time.”  There was a time when that might never have been reported but times were changing and it was printed in the press as “Gerald Ford can't walk and chew gum at the same time.”

Of tents, sacks & maxi

The tent dress, also known as the "A-line", picked up both names because of the similarity of the trapezoid shape to an A-frame tent or building and was one of a number of garments which emerged in the 1960s when women's fashion retreated from the cinch-waisted, tailored lines mainstream manufacturers mass-produced in the 1950s.  Because the sheer volume of fabric, they were popular with some designers who used vivid psychedelic imagery in the patterns, a nod to the hippie vibe of the time.

Crooked Hillary Clinton in tent dress, The Hamptons, 2019.

Designed originally to be functional, comfortable and ageless, tent dresses have no waistline and are worn without belts; they’re thus essentially shapeless and while they don't exactly hide flaws, they certainly don't cling to them so can (sort of) flatter a shape to the extent it's possible, even though they actually accentuate width.  About once every fashion cycle, and never with great success, the industry pushes the tent dress as one of the trends of that season, the attempt in 2007 still regarded in the industry as a cautionary tale of how things shouldn't be done.

Tent dresses, made from a variety of fabrics, obviously have a lot of surface area so there's much scope to experiment with colors, patterns and graphics, the garments offered in everything from solid hues, subtle patterning, bold strips and, most famously, wild arrays of colors seemingly chosen deliberately to clash.  Given their purpose, most are long-sleeved or at least with a sleeve reaching the upper forearms and while the length can vary (some actually better described as loose shirts), the classic tent dress is knee or calf-length.

Sack dresses by Hubert de Givenchy (1927–2018), Spring Summer 1958 collection, Paris 1957.

Nor should the sack-line be confused with the tent.  Givenchy’s sack-line debuted in their spring-summer line in 1957, Cristóbal Balenciaga (1895-1972) showing a not dissimilar style just a few weeks later.  Both were essentially an evolution of the “Shirt Dress” which had attracted some attention the previous season and signaled a shift from the fitted, structured silhouettes which had been the signature motif of the decade.  The sack-line dresses were described by some critics as “shapeless” or “formless”, presumably because they lacked any suggestion of the waistline which had existed for so long as fashion’s pivot-point.  However, the forms the sack-line took would have been recognizable to anyone familiar with fluid dynamics or the flow of air in wind tunnels, a waistless dress which narrowed severely towards the hem one of the optimal aerodynamic shapes.

That was presumably a coincidence but Givenchy’s press-kits at the 1957 shows did claim that “More than a fashion, it’s actually a way of dressing” and one which must have found favor with at least some women, not unhappy at being able to ditch the forbidding and restrictive, high-waisted girdles needed to achieve the wasp-wasted “New Look” which Dior had introduced to a post-war world anxious to escape wartime austerity.  Waistless, the sack-line appeared to hang suspended from the shoulders like an envelope around the frame yet despite not being body-hugging, the lines managed to accentuate the figure, the trick being using the mind of the observer to "fill in the gaps", based on available visual clues.  The simplicity of the sack line made it the ideal canvas on which to display other stuff, models in sacks soon showing off gloves, hats, shoes and other adornments and the elegant austerity of the lines remains influential today.

Maxi dresses are not tent dresses.  Lindsay Lohan in maxi dresses illustrates the difference.

Not all enveloping dresses, of which the vaguely defined “maxi” is probably the best known example, are tent dresses.  What really distinguishes the tent dress is that it’s waistless and in the shape of a regular trapezoid, hence the alternative name “A-line” whereas the point of the maxi is that it’s ankle-length, the antithesis of the mini skirt which could be cut as high up the thigh as any relevant statutes and the wearer’s sense of daring permitted.  Extreme in length, the maxi typically had at least something of a waist although some with severe perpendicular lines certainly could be classified as sacks.

Inquire & Enquire

Inquire (pronounced in-kwahyuhr)

(1) To seek information by questioning; to ask.

(2) To make an investigation (usually followed by into).

(3) To seek (obsolete).

(4) To question (a person) (obsolete).

1250–1300: From the Middle English enqueren & anqueren (to ask (a question), ask about, ask for (specific information); learn or find out by asking, seek information or knowledge; to conduct a legal or official investigation (into an alleged offense)), from the Latin inquīrere (to seek for), replacing the Middle English enqueren, from the Old French enquerre, also from Latin.  The construct in Latin was from in- (into) + quaerere (to seek).  The prefix -in is quirky because it can act either to negate or intensify.  The general rule is that when prepended to a noun or adjective, it reinforces the quality signified and when prepended to an adjective, it negates the meaning, the latter mostly in words borrowed from French.  The Latin prefix in- was from the Proto-Italic en-, from the primitive Indo-European n̥- (not), the zero-grade form of the negative particle ne (not) and was akin to ne-, nē & nī.  In Modern English it is from the Middle English in-, from Old English in- (in, into), from the Proto-Germanic in, from the primitive Indo-European en.  Inquiry & inquirer are nouns, inquiring is a noun, verb & adjective, inquires is a verb, inquirable & inquisitive are adjective and inquiringly is an adverb; the noun plural is inquiries.  The verb inquireth is listed by most as archaic and forms such as reinquired & reinquiring have been coined as needed.

So the in- in inquire is not related to in- (not), also a common prefix in Latin and this created a tradition of confusion which persists to this day.  In Ancient Rome, impressus could mean "pressed" or "unpressed; inaudire meant "to hear" but inauditus meant "unheard of; invocatus was "uncalled, uninvited," but invocare was "to call, appeal to".  In Late Latin investigabilis could mean "that may be searched into" or "that cannot be searched into”.  English picked up the confusion and it’s not merely a linguistic quirk because mixing up the meaning of inflammable could have ghastly consequences.  Fortunately, some of the duplicity has died out: Implume, noted from the 1610s meant "to feather," but implumed (from a decade or more earlier meant "unfeathered".  Impliable could be held to mean "capable of being implied" (1865) or "inflexible" (1734).  Impartible in the seventeenth century simultaneously could mean "incapable of being divided" or "capable of being imparted" and, surprisingly, impassionate can mean "free from passion" or "strongly stirred by passion" (used wrongly that certainly could have inintended consequences).  The adjective inanimate was generally understood to indicate "lifeless" but John Donne (1572–1631), when using inanimate as a verb meant "infuse with life or vigor." Irruption is "a breaking in" but irruptible is "unbreakable".

In addition to improve "use to one's profit", Middle English also had the fifteenth century verb improve meaning "to disprove".  To inculpate is "to accuse," but inculpable means "not culpable, free from blame".  Infestive (a creation of the 1560s, from infest) originally meant "troublesome, annoying" but by the 1620s meant "not festive".  Bafflingly, in Middle English, inflexible could mean both "incapable of being bent" or "capable of being swayed or moved".  During the seventeenth century, informed could mean "current in information" formed, animated" or "unformed, formless", an unhelpful situation the Oxford English Dictionary (OED) described as “an awkward use".  Just a bizarre was that in the mid-sixteenth century inhabited meant "dwelt in" yet within half-a-century was being used to describe "uninhabited".  Some dictionaries insist the adjectives unenquired & unenquiring really exist but there’s scant evidence of use.  A noted derivation with some history is inquisitor.  Synonyms and words with a similar sense include examine, inspect, interrogate, investigate, analyze, catechize, explore, grill, hit, knock, probe, check, prospect, pry, query, question, roast, scrutinize, search, seek & sift.

Enquire (pronounced en-kwahyuhr)

A variant form of inquire

Circa 1300: From the Middle English enqueren & anqueren, (to ask (a question), to ask about, to ask for (specific information); learn or find out by asking, seek information or knowledge; to conduct a legal or official investigation (into an alleged offense)), from the Old French enquerre (to ask, inquire about) (which persists in Modern French as enquérir) and directly from the Medieval Latin inquīrere (to seek for).  As long ago as the fourteenth century the spelling of the English word was changed following the Latin model, but, in the annoying way that happens sometimes in English, the half-Latinized enquire persists and some people have even invented “rules” about when it should be used instead of inquire.   Sensibly, the Americans ignore these suggestions and use inquire for all purposes.  In Old French the Latin in- often became en- and such was the influence on Middle English that the form spread and although English developed a strong tendency to revert to the Latin in-, this wasn’t universal, thus pairs such as enquire/inquire which is why there must always be some sympathy for those learning the language.  There was a native form, which in West Saxon usually appeared as on- (as in the Old English onliehtan (to enlighten)) and some of those verbs survived into Middle English (such as inwrite (to inscribe)) but all are said now to be long extinct.

Enquire or inquire?

Lindsay Lohan says the spelling is "inquiry" so that must be right.

The English word was re-spelled as early as the fourteenth century on the Latin model but the half-Latinized "enquire" has never wholly gone away.  Outside of North America, it's not unknown to come across documents where "inquire" & "enquire" both appear, not in tribute to a particular "rule" of use but just because it hasn't been noticed; it's probably most associated with documents which are partially the product of chunks of texts being "cut and paste".  In the US, where the enquire vs inquire "problem" doesn’t exist because inquire is universal, this must seem a strange and pointless squabble because hearing a sentence like "She enquired when the Court of Inquiry was to hold its hearings" would unambiguously be understood and if written down, there could be no confusion if the spelling forms were to appear in either order.  So,  some hold it would be a fine idea if the rest of the English-speaking world followed the sensible lead of the Americans and stuck to "inquire" but history suggests that’s not going to happen and some suggestions for a convention of use have been offered:

(1) Enquire & enquiry are "formal" words to convey the sense of "ask" whereas inquire & inquiry are used to describe some structured form of investigation (such as a "Court of Inquiry").

(2) Enquire is to be used in informal writing and inquire in formal text.

Neither of those suggestions seem to make as much sense as adopting the US spelling and probably just adds a needless layer to a simple word; enquire and inquire mean the same thing: to ask, to seek information, or to investigate. One is therefore unnecessary and enquire should be retired, simply on the basis the Americans already have and there’s lots of them.  Those who resist should follow the one golden rule which is consistency: whatever convention of use is adopted, exclusively it should be used. 

The ultimate court of inquiry, the Spanish Inquisition and the DDF

The Spanish Inquisition, conducting their inquiries.

The Tribunal del Santo Oficio de la Inquisición (Tribunal of the Holy Office of the Inquisition), known famously as the Inquisición española (Spanish Inquisition) was created in 1478 by the Roman Catholic Monarchs, King Ferdinand II (1452–1516; king of Aragon 1479-1516, king of Castile 1475-1504 (as Ferdinand V)) and Queen Isabella I (1451–1504; queen of Castile 1474-1504, queen of Aragon 1479-1504), its remit the enforcement of orthodox Church doctrine in their kingdoms.  Ostensibly established to combat heresy in Spain (though eventually its remit extended throughout the Spanish Empire), the real purpose was to consolidate the power of the monarchy of the newly unified Spanish kingdom.  Its methods were famously brutish and although many records were lost, it's thought close to two hundred-thousand individuals came to the attention of the Inquisition and as many as five-thousand may have been killed; during the tenure of Castilian Dominican friar Tomás de Torquemada (1420–1498), the first grand inquisitor, it's believed some two-thousand were burned at the stake.  Suppressed first by Joseph-Napoléon Bonaparte (1768–1844; king of Naples (1806–1808) and king of Spain (1808–1813)) in 1808, it was restored by Ferdinand VII (1784–1833; king of Spain 1808 & 1813-1830) in 1814, suppressed in 1820, and restored in 1823.  It was finally abolished in 1834 by the Spanish queen regent María Cristina de Borbón (Maria Christina of the Two Sicilies 1806–1878; queen consort of Spain from 1829-1833 and regent of the Kingdom 1833-1840).  Historians have noted that although the Spanish Inquisition didn't last into the twentieth century, there were more than echoes of its methods & techniques witnessed (on both sides) during the Spanish Civil War (1936-1939).  

Rome certainly understood the need to enforce doctrine and punish heretics but they wanted control of the processes, aware even then some of the excesses were proving to be counter-productive and the imperative was to create a body under the direct jurisdiction of the Holy See.  Formed in 1542, was emerged was an institution which in recent years has had a few instances of what in commerce (and increasingly by governments too) is called "re-branding".  Originally named the Supreme Sacred Congregation of the Roman and Universal Inquisition, between 1908-1965 it was known as the Supreme Sacred Congregation of the Holy Office before becoming Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith (CDF), its best-known prefect (head) being the the German Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger (1927–2022) who, after serving as Chief Inquisitor between 1982-2005) was elected pope as Benedict XVI, serving until his unusual (though not unprecedented) resignation in 2013 when he decided to be styled pope emeritus, living in a kind of papal granny flat in the Vatican until his death.  In 2022, the institution was re-named the Dicastery for the Doctrine of the Faith (DDF) and despite it all, many continue to refer to it as "The Holy Office" (in public) or "The Inquisition" (in private).  There are now (even when under Cardinal Ratzinger as far as in known) no more torture chambers or burnings at the stake but the DDF remains a significant factional player in curia politics although Vatican watchers have detected a grudging softening in the DDF's expressions of doctrinal rigidity since the election of Pope Francis (b 1936; pope since 2013). 

Fudge

Fudge (pronounced fuhj)

(1) A soft candy (sweet) made of sugar, butter, milk (or cream), often including chocolate or nuts.

(2) A polite alternative for “fuck” when used as an expletive (sometimes as “Oh, fudge”).

(3) In euphemistic slang, fecal matter; feces.

(4) In printing, a small stereotype or a few lines of specially prepared type, bearing a newspaper bulletin, for replacing a detachable part of a page plate without the need to re-plate the entire page (often called the “fudge box”).

(5) The bulletin thus printed, often in color.

(6) A machine or attachment for printing such a bulletin.

(7) As a Middle English surname, a diminutive of Fulcher.

(8) Nonsense or foolishness; to talk nonsense (often used as an interjection indicating a mild exclamation of annoyance).  To waffle, equivocate or hedge.

(9) Figuratively, light or frothy nonsense.

(10) To cheat.

(11) To fail to fulfil an obligation (often as “fudged” or fudging”).

(12) To avoid coming to grips with a subject, issue etc; to evade or dodge (often as “fudged” or fudging”); an unsatisfactory compromise reached to evade a difficult problem or controversial issue.

(13) To tamper with, falsify or misrepresent something, in order to produce a desired result or allow leeway for error (often as “a bit of a fudge”).  As a method, in engineering & IT, this is sometimes called the “fudge factor” (a quantity introduced to compensate for uncertainty).

Pre 1750: The verb fudge in the sense of “put together clumsily or dishonestly” may have been in use in the seventeenth century and may have been an alteration of the mid-sixteenth century fadge (make suit, fit), a verb of unknown origin.  In the eighteenth century the verb became associated especially with the language of sailors and it appeared often is ships’ logs.  The romantic story of the etymology of fudge coming to mean “lies! nonsense!” is that there was a certain Captain Fudge, infamous for “always bringing home his owners a good cargo of lies” according to a citation dating from 1700 and published in 1791.  Captain Fudge (a la Donald Trump’s later label for Ted Cruz) was known in the commercial shipping trade as “Lying Fudge”, and it may be his name reinforced this form of fadge in the sense of “contrive without the necessary materials”.  The Middle English surname Fudge was from Fuche, a pet form of the masculine proper name Fulcher, from the Germanic and meaning literally “people-army”.  Fudge is a noun & verb, fudger is a noun, fudged is a verb & adjective, fudgelike & fudgy are adjectives and fudging is a verb; the noun plural is fudges.

The use to describe the candy is mysterious but it certainly emerged in the US in the late nineteenth century and it too may have been linked with fadge (to fit), the idea being that the ingredients “merged together”.  Etymologists note that’s wholly speculative but all agree the sweet treat was first so named in women’s colleges in the US, the earliest known reference being from 1895 and other suggestions for the origin of the use in this context includes the idea of the concoction being “insubstantial” or perhaps the early recipes were “fudged” in the sense they were a product of trial and error, based on the long-time use of “fudge” in schools and colleges to mean a “a made-up story”.  That was a sense-development from Captain Fudge’s lies and “fudgy” stories were those especially implausible or “frothy & insubstantial” and the early form of the candy may have been less dense than the modern recipes produce.  No etymologist appears to support the suggestion there was any connection with “fudging” (ie “breaking or bending”) the dormitory rules in women’s colleges.  Fudge in the 1670s was used to mean “clumsily to contrive” and it’s this use which is thought perhaps an expressive variant of fadge (to fit, agree, do) which was akin to the Middle English feien and the Old English fēgan (to fit together, join, bind).  From this ultimately can be traced the modern uses which relate to “nonsense; fakery etc” but there is the suggestion of a link with the provincial French fuche & feuche (an exclamation of contempt from Low German futsch (begone).  Some sources list fudge as a euphemism for "fuck" but it's really a "polite substitution" because it's an alternative not to a description of the sex act but "fuck" as an expletive (thus "oh fudge", "Fudge!" etc).  Some slang dictionaries have listed fudge in that euphemistic sense but there's scant evidence of use.  

Uranus Fudge Factory, 14400 State Hwy Z, St Robert, Missouri 65584, USA.

In idiomatic use, to fudge something is to alter its true state, usually to conceal or misrepresent something inconvenient or to disguise some flaw but “to fudge” is suggestive of something benign rather than anything dishonest.  The fudge is very much the “white lie” of untruths; one might fudge one’s age or height on Tinder (presumably, other stuff may be fudged on Grindr) and touching-up one’s photograph to look a little better is “fudging it”.  Apparently not widely used in the “G” & “B” factions of the LGBTQQIAAOP community, the various uses of the word based on it being euphemistic slang for fecal matter or feces, are all derogatory.  The “fudge tunnel” is the anus, a “fudge packer” a male homosexual who practices anal sex (either as a top or bottom) and during the act once can be said to be “packing fudge”.  The most infamous use of the gay slur came shortly after “closetgate”, controversy which ensued after the 2005 South Park episode Trapped in the Closet, a parody of the Church of Scientology in which the Scientologist film star Tom Cruise (b 1962) refuses to come out of a closet.  Not discouraged by the threat of writs, South Park later featured an episode in which the actor worked in a confectionery factory, as a fudge packer, packing fudge into cardboard cartons.

The BBC’s Dark Chocolate Fudge

Ingredients

300ml whole milk
350g caster sugar
100g unsalted butter
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
100g dark chocolate, chopped
Optional toppings: chopped nuts, toffee pieces, mini chocolate buttons.

Method

(1) Line 180-200 mm (7-8 inch) square tin with greaseproof paper.

(2) Put the milk, sugar and butter in a heavy-based saucepan.  Heat gently, stirring continuously with a wooden spoon, until the sugar has dissolved and the butter has melted (should take about 7 minutes).

(3) Bring to the boil for 15-22 minutes, stirring the whole time.  The mixture will bubble up and when it does, remove from the heat and keep stirring it until it sinks back down. Then return it to the heat, repeating the process if necessary.

(4) Start to take the temperature after about 15 minutes (but continue to stir or the mix will burn on the bottom).  The time it takes to come up to temperature will vary, depending on ambient conditions.  Once it reaches 115^oC (240^oF) as measured by a probe) remove from the heat and stir in the vanilla extract and a generous pinch of sea salt.  Leave the mix to cool for 5 minutes.

(5) Vigorously stir in the chopped chocolate and keep stirring until the chocolate has melted (initially it will split but keep stirring and it will come back together).  Quickly pour the mixture into the prepared tin, leaving it to set at room temperature.

(6) When the fudge has cooled to the point of being warm (rather than hot), the optional toppings (nuts, toffees, mini chocolate buttons etc) may carefully be place or scattered according to preference; gently press into the fudge until they stick.  The reason this can’t be done while the fudge is hot is the toppings will be prone to melting.  Once set, cut the fudge into small pieces and store in a sealed container.

Dark chocolate fudge (left) and Mamie Eisenhower's Chocolate Fudge (Million Dollar Fudge) (right). 

For those who prefer something sweeter, the classic choice is Mamie Eisenhower's (1896-1979) Chocolate Fudge, the recipe made famous by the First Lady of Dwight Eisenhower (1890-1969; US president 1953-1961).  One of the few things about which Republicans and Democrats now agree is the creamy and sweet concoction is a fine thing and the recipe has a long history in the US as “Million Dollar Fudge” although despite the connotations in that, it’s attraction was it was quick and easy to prepare and the ingredients were readily available in any corner store in the country.

Getting fudged: Lindsay Lohan before (left) and after (right) the application of fudge.  Such results are not possible with all hair types but this does illustrate what fudge can achieve. 

Hair styling products (collectively called “product”) like fudge, wax, mousse, and gel are all used as a final finish to a hairstyle but serve different purposes, providing various levels of texture, hold and shine and the choice of which to use is dictated by the critical variables of hair length, thickness and the effect desired.  Fudge is thick & creamy to ensure a strong hold is achieved and it’s noted for providing a matte finish.  Fudge is ideal for defined, structured styles which need to remain in place and can work with short hair to achieve a look which is severe without being too spiky.  For the spiky look, the product of choice is either wax or gel.  Wax is thick and sticky product and can be hard to work with but does offer a medium to strong hold and (if properly applied), a natural finish.  Wax has the advantage of being versatile and can be used for a wide range of styles and is the best product for creating texture and separation in short to medium-length hair, especially if a textured, tousled look is desired; many hairdressers will use only wax when creating a JBF.  Gel is a thick, viscous substance which is the go-to product fort slicked-back or spiky styles where the need is for sleek, polished or wet-look hair which needs the maximum hold and control.  If someone’s hair looks like a helmet, that look has probably been attained with gel.  Mousse is different.  It’s lightweight, foamy and essentially allows a framework to be built-into the hair, adding volume although it provides only a light to medium hold and can’t withstand threats like strong breezes.  Mousse is good at adding body and bounce and, if well done, the increase in functional volume can be extraordinary and the dramatic styles applied to some models for static photo-shoots are usually mousse-heavy and despite the appearance, mousse usually leaves a soft, touchable finish.