Dipsomaniac

Dipsomaniac (pronounced dip-suh-mey-nee-ak or dip-soh-mey-nee-ak)

(1) One with a morbid paroxysmal craving for alcohol; a person with an irresistible craving for alcoholic drink.

(2) In informal use, a persistently drunken person; a drunkard.

(3) In informal use, an alcoholic (technically and clinically incorrect)

1843:  A compound word, the construct being dipso-, from the Ancient Greek δίψα (dípsa) (thirst) +‎ maniac, from the French maniaque, from the Late Latin maniacus, from the Ancient Greek μανιακός (maniakós), the adjectival form of μανία (manía) (madness)).  The slang shortening dipso is from 1880.  In casual use, those with an excessive fondness for strong drink attract many labels: alcoholic, sponge, lush, inebriate, boozer, sot, bum, drinker, drunkard, hobo, carouser, guzzler, dipsomaniac, souse, wino, bacchanal, soak, tippler, stiff, debauchee.  Dipsomaniac & dipsomania are nouns and dipsomaniacal is an adjective; the noun plural is dipsomaniacs.

Dipsomaniacs and alcoholics

In medicine and related fields, clinicians distinguish between the dipsomaniac and the alcoholic.  Alcoholism is an addiction or a dependency on alcohol, the word alcoholism coming from the Medieval Latin alcoholisms, coined by Swedish physician Professor Magnus Huss (1807–1890) in his 1849 essay Alcoholismus Chronicus although Dr Huss used the word to describe an condition today called alcohol poisoning rather than the condition of alcoholism .  At this time, alcoholism was labeled as "habitual drunkenness" or some similar term, reflecting the pre-modern attitude that it was a weakness of character or the result of bad upbringing rather than anything chemical and thus an illness.  Dipsomania is characterized by periodic bouts of uncontrollable craving for alcohol but alcoholism and dipsomania are not interchangeable; dipsomania describing a form of consumption that includes periods of sobriety as well as of drunkenness.  There’s a bit of overlap between the two and some certainly progress from one to the other but in the clinical sense, there are differences.  While it’s possible for the true alcoholic to stop drinking, they don’t cease to be an alcoholic, they become a sober one whereas if a dipsomaniac stops drinking, they cease to be a dipsomaniac.

The top 25 (2018): Despite it's stellar reputation, Australia really needs to try harder.

As an interesting etymological point, alcohol, although a borrowing from Medieval Latin, was originally from the Arabic and entered first into the technical jargon of European alchemists and apothecaries before being adopted for general English use.  It became common in English during the 1500s through two forks, one from Spanish, one from French.  There’s some dispute between scholars about the Arabic origin but the most popular suggests the ultimate root was the classical Arabic اَلْغَوْل‎ (al-ḡawl) or غَوْل‎ (ḡawl), both of which translate as “bad effect, evil result of headache, best known from verse 37:47 in the holy Qur’an which mentions drink in which there is no "ghawl".  As well as English, the word passed to many European languages including the Italian alcoolisto, the French alcoolique, the German alkoholiker, the Spanish alcohólico and the Swedish alkoholist.

Dipsomania manifests thus as a fondness for alcoholic drinks rather than a chemical dependence, although, at the margins, the distinction can be fine and some dipsomaniacs can descend to alcoholism.  Many however spend a lifetime enjoying strong drink without ever developing a dependence although there are other concerns about the physical consequences of high or frequent consumption.  People might however be surprised at just how low is the level of consumption the health authorities recommend as being safe.  Australia's National Health and Medical Research Council (NHMRC) recommends a “healthy adult” drink no more than 10 (ten) standard drinks every 7 (seven) days and no more than 4 (four) standard drinks per day.  Those under 18 (eighteen) should not drink at all and nor should pregnant people or those breast-feeding (believed now properly called gender-neutral “chest feeders”).  NH&MRC define a "standard drink" as any of (1) light beer (2.7% alc/vol) 425 mL, (2) mid strength beer (3.5% alc/vol) 375 mL, (3) full strength beer (4.9% alc/vol) 285 mL, (4) regular cider (4.9% alc/vol) 285 mL, (5) sparkling wine (13% alc/vol) 100 mL, (6) wine (13% alc/vol) 100 mL, (7) fortified wine (sherry, port) (20% alc/vol) 60 mL & (8) spirits (vodka, gin, rum, whiskey et al) (40% alc/vol) 30 mL.

That might surprise some who consider themselves “light” or “social” drinkers who suddenly realize that for perhaps decades they’ve been giving it a bit of a nudge just about every night and consumption by the famous is often the subject of interest, the quip about Sir Winston Churchill (1975-1965; UK prime-minister 1940-1945 & 1951-1955) not being alcoholic because “no alcoholic could possibly drink so much” has been attributed to several.  Pace NH&MRC but these things are relative and Sir Tony Blair (b 1953; UK prime-minister 1997-2007) in his earnestly written memoir (A Journey (2010) Random House, London, 624 pp, ISBN 978-0-09-192555-0) included a staccato passage admitting he was probably at least verging on the NH&MRC’s limit:

“The relationship between alcohol and Prime Ministers is a subject for a book all on its own.  By the standards of days gone by I was not even remotely a toper, and I couldn’t do lunchtime drinking except on Christmas Day, but if you took the thing everyone always lied about — units per week — I was definitely at the outer limit.  Stiff whisky or a G&T; before dinner, couple of glasses of wine or even half a bottle with it.  So not excessively excessive.  I had a limit.  But I was aware it had become a prop.  I could never work out whether for me it was, on balance a) good, because it did relax me or b) bad, because I could have been working rather than relaxing.  I came to the conclusion — conveniently you might think — that a) beat b).  I thought that escaping the pressure and relaxing was a vital part of keeping the job in proportion, a function rather like my holidays.  But I was never sure.  I believed I was in control of the alcohol.  However you have to be honest: it’s a drug, there’s no getting away from it.”

So a pre-prandial G&T dinner and two glasses of wine with the meal and no mention of being tempted by a port or cognac somewhere between the pear and the cheese.  He said he thought it “a prop” and in that he’s doubtlessly correct but many expressed surprise he drank so little given his problems (having Gordon Brown (b 1951; UK prime-minister 2007-2010) and Peter Mandelson (b 1953, Labour Party identity) in one’s life can’t have been easy) but perhaps it’s good someone with their own nuclear weapons wasn’t on a Yeltsinesque (Boris Yeltsin (1931-2007; President of Russia 1991-1999)) bottle of vodka a day.  Whether alcohol used as “a prop” can be thought a form of dipsomania seems debatable because, definitionally, it would seem to suggest there needs to be some sense of enjoyment in the intake regardless of any practical benefit although on this, clinicians may differ.

Some just enjoy the taste.  Lindsay Lohan advertising the (fictitious) Japanese chewing gum Number One Happy Whiskey Chew, filmed for the TV show Anger Management, March 2013.

Jentacular

Jentacular (pronounced yen-tac-u-la)

Of or pertaining to a breakfast taken early in the morning, or immediately on getting up.

Early 1700s: A learned borrowing from Latin iēntāculum (breakfast (especially one taken immediately upon rising)), the construct made by appending the English suffix –ar (of, near, or pertaining to (used to form adjectives)).  The construct of iēntāculum (genitive iēntāculī) was ientō (I breakfast), a variant of ieientō (to have breakfast), from ieiūnus (fasting, abstinent, hungry), from ientare the primitive Indo-European hyag (to sacrifice; to worship) + -culum (the diminutive suffix), from –culu, a re-bracketing of the diminutive suffix -lus on nouns ending in –cus.  Jentacular is an adjective.  Authors (presumably of literary novels) wanting a noun could use the Latin jentaculum (jēntāculum), an alternative form of ientaculum, the construct being iēntō (I breakfast) +‎ -culum (a suffix used to form nouns derived from verbs, notably nouns representing tools and instruments).

The Late Latin jēntāculum (I breakfast) reflects the post-Classical changes to spelling in Latin, a highly technical array of changes which happened over hundreds of years in the Middle Ages and was concerned with rendering a pattern of spelling more aligned with actual pronunciation and one change was that jēntāculum replaced the Classical Latin iēntāculum.  In Classical Latin, it was ientare.  In modern writing, the consonant "i" is distinguished from the vowel "i" by using the extended version of the letter "j" for the former, just the vowel form of "v" is distinguished from the consonant form by writing the cursive form "u" for the former.  In the modern alphabet, they’ve long officially been different letters, and they sound much more different in English.  However, in Latin, ientare (strictly speaking IENTARE since half-uncials didn’t then exist)) was pronounced yen-ta-reh and it was this which inspired medieval scholars to decide the written should pay greater tribute to the spoken.  Because in Classical Latin representing the consonant “j” was usually not doubled in writing, a single “i” represented a double “j”; medieval scholars thought a simple approach preferable, much as the Americans corrected many needless redundancies in English (color vs colour; catalog vs catalogue etc).

A jentacular pair: Jane Fonda (b 1937) and Lindsay Lohan (b 1986) taking breakfast, Georgia Rule (2007).

Jentacular enjoyed a vogue in the eighteenth and nineteenth century among those who liked to add the odd "learned" flourish to their writing but most dictionaries now describe it as obscure, rare or obsolete.  Indeed, its most frequent appearance now appears to be on lists of unusual words but it still attracts those who like such things, some of whom complicate it further with constructs like post-jentacular, following the English philosopher (most associated with utilitarianism) and jurist Jeremy Bentham (1748-1832)  who would write of the “ante-jentacular” and “post-prandial” walks he took in his garden.  Despite the Benthamite endorsement, jentacular seems effectively defunct, the English-speaking world taking the view "breakfast" needs no adjective, the occasional instance of breakfasty never catching on, presumably because the ungainly English construction was worse than the anyway unwanted though elegant Latinate form. The word "breakfast" dates from 1463 and is one of the language’s less etymologically challenging coinings, meaning obviously a meal which "breaks" the overnight "fast" and  Australians, as would be expected, came up with "brekkie", a style of diminutive obligatory among certain classes.  Civilised peoples like the Italians and French seem always to have managed to enjoy breakfast but for the English it’s been often depicted as a chore.  Percy Bysshe Shelley’s (1792–1822) poem Peter Bell the Third by Miching Mallecho, Esq (composed circa 1820 but not published until 1839) clearly preferred the dinner and late-night suppers to anything jentacular:

And all these meet at levees; --
  Dinners convivial and political; --
Suppers of epic poets; -- teas,
Where small talk dies in agonies; --
  Breakfasts professional and critical;

Perhaps that was because the taking of strong drink was something more associated with dinner than breakfast, even among the Romantic poets.

Jentacular thinspiration: A recommended pro-ana breakfast.

Prandial

Prandial (pronounced pran-dee-uhl)

Of or relating to a meal, especially dinner (sometimes affected, jocose or facetious).

1810-1820: From the Late Latin prandialis or the Classical Latin prandium (late breakfast; lunch), perhaps from the primitive Indo-European pr̥hemós (first), from prehe- + -edere (to eat) (originally, the primitive Indo-European ed- root (to eat) meant originally "to bite") + the Latin -ium (the suffix forming nouns), ultimately from the primitive Indo-European -yós (suffix forming adjectives from noun stems) +‎ -al (the suffix forming adjectives).  It’s never been clear why the meaning shift from the Classical Latin meaning (late breakfast; lunch) to the later (dinner) happened.  Now, prandial is used almost exclusively as (a usually jocular or affected) pre-prandial or post-prandial (often plural), a reference to before or after-dinner drinks (ie the various forms of "prandial" have become code for "drinking alcohol").  Prandial is an adjective and prandially is an adverb.

Lindsay Lohan enjoying a pre-pradial.

The first use of the adjective postprandial (now usually as post-prandial) seems to have been by the poet Samuel Taylor Coleridge (1772–1834) in 1820 to convey the meaning "happening, said, done etc; after dinner".  The first known instance of preprandial (also pre-prandial) (before dinner) is in a letter of 1822 by the poet Charles Lamb (1775–1834) to Coleridge: “Why you should refuse twenty guineas per sheet for Blackwood’s or any other magazine passes my poor comprehension. But, as Strap says, you know best.  I have no quarrel with you about præprandial avocations—so don’t imagine one.”

Prandial, pre-prandial & post-prandial now belong to the roll-call of words described variously as "useless", "potentially misleading" or "pretentious".  To invite one's dinner companion to a "post-prandial is harmless if it's between linguistically consenting adults but because many educated people would have no idea what was be suggested, an offer of an "after-dinner drink" is usually a better idea.  Despite all that, for some word nerds, the the adverbs preprandially (in a preprandial manner; before a meal, especially dinner) & postprandially (in a postprandial manner; after a meal; especially, after dinner) may prove irresistible. 

Henry Fowler’s list of working & stylish words.

The stern Henry Fowler (1858–1933) in his A Dictionary of Modern English Usage (1926) included an entry which listed examples of “working & stylish words” which opened with the passage: “No one, unless he has happened upon this article at a very early stage of his acquaintance with this book, will suppose that the word “stylish” is meant to be laudatory.”  He went on to say there was a place for such forms “…when they are used in certain senses…” but made it clear that for most purposes the plain, simple “working word” is the better choice.  He offered the example of “deem” which in law has a precise and well understood meaning so is there essential but it’s just an attempt at stylishness if used as a substitute for “think”.  Other victims of his disapproving eye included “viable” which he judged quite proper in the papers of biologists describing newly formed organisms but otherwise a clumsy way of trying to assert something was “practicable” and “dwell” & “perchance” which appeared usually as “…conspicuous, like and escaped canary among the sparrows.”  Henry Fowler liked stylish phrases but preferred plain words.  Fowler completed his text by 1925 and things have since changed, some of the “stylish” cohort seemingly having become “working” words, possibly under the influence of the use in computing and other technologies, their once specialized sense migrating into general use because the language of those industries became so common.  Although he did twenty years before the first appeared, one suspects he’d not have found Ferraris “stylish” and would probably have called them “flashy” (in the sense of “vulgar ostentation” rather than “sparkling or brilliant”); dating from the mid sixteenth century, “flashy” would seem to have a suitably venerable lineage.