The Local Government Association spokesman was buzzing over an interview he had just given to Canadian radio about his organisation's 100 banned words or phrases, which include "coterminosity" and "predictors of beaconicity".
The list of words that English and Welsh councils should never use has been around for a while, but the association decided to give it a new airing to help Tunbridge Wells council, which had fallen foul of the tabloids for banning the word "brainstorming". Tunbridge Wells said the word was offensive to epileptics, but the National Society for Epilepsy said it was not offensive at all.
The Local Government Association spokesman said publicising the banned words was meant to show that councils were sensible about language, the implied hope being that we would regard the brainstorming affair as a storm in a teacup.
Brainstorming is not one of the 100 banned words. It acquired its current meaning more than 50 years ago. "They are being taught how to brainstorm their way to conclusions concerning subjects ranging from world affairs to specific engineering puzzles," the Oxford Dictionary records The New York Times saying in 1955.
So, there is nothing wrong with brainstorming. Indeed, I was slightly disturbed to discover that, of the 100 banned words or phrases, I objected to only 14, either because they were ugly - "conditionality" - or because I did not know what they meant - "place shaping". I do not have any objection to "best practice" or "consensual", which are also on the list.
Sir Simon Milton, the Local Government Association's chairman, said councils "must not and should not hide behind impenetrable jargon". This is strong self-admonition. No one has a good word to say about jargon. But jargon is inevitable.
In The Complete Plain Words, his peerless guide to clarity, Sir Ernest Gowers said jargon was "a word applied contemptuously to the language of scholars, the terminology of a science or art, or the cant of a class, sect, trade or profession".
Any group that works, plays or lives together develops its own vocabulary, often incomprehensible to anyone else. This is as true of investment banks as it is of street gangs. It often seems the purpose is to exclude outsiders, but a more important reason is to give names to things that all involved understand.
When Microsoft last week announced the launch of its new "hypervisor-based virtualisation technology", I did not have a clue what it meant, but no doubt software people did.
Similarly, if someone from Microsoft attended the Financial Times news meeting, they might be alarmed to hear an editor say "we'll put Steve Ballmer in the basement" - the basement being the article at the foot of a page rather than a punishment cell for jargon pushers.
I can even understand how British local government officials came to talk about "predictors of beaconicity". Since 1999, innovative local councils have been able to win Beacon awards. But what characterises the winning councils?
Commissioned
The government commissioned Warwick Business School to find out. It then produced a report called "Predictors of Beaconicity". Not pretty, but what would you call it? "Which councils are most likely to apply for and win Beacon awards"? Too long. It is the essence of beaconness that we are after - beaconicity, in a word. Incomprehensible to anyone else, but natural to local government types.
The problem arises when people talk to someone outside their own group. Sir Ernest Gowers mentioned a government department circular that talked about "the physical progressing of building cases".
He asked a member of the department to explain. It meant going to a building site to see how many bricks had been laid since the last visit, Gowers was told. He conceded that no harm had been done because the circular would only be seen by people who knew what it meant.
"But using jargon is a dangerous habit; it is easy to forget that the public do not understand it, and to slip into the use of it in explaining things to them," he wrote.
Avoiding jargon is a noble idea. But The Complete Plain Words was published in 1954 and we are still using jargon, because private language seems inherent to human communication.
What can we do? Companies and governments can always ask outsiders whether they understand what they are talking about, which is what the Local Government Association is trying to do. I may have no problem with "consensual", but I can see that many more people will understand "everyone agrees", the suggested alternative.
And by the way, if anyone from Microsoft feels the urge to get in touch to explain what hypervisor-based virtualisation technology is, please do not worry. I have lived this long without knowing.
