The English language in decline?

'"We have to have her, at least for tonight, because I promised Sam Dolby that I'd look after her. To be honest, I didn't think she'd get in touch at all: I'm only pleased she feels she can trust me."

"It's ruined the evening."'

In this exchange, at page 174 of crime novel Oxford Menace, published in 2008 by Headline Publishing, London, author Veronica Stallwood employs an expression that is repeated throughout the book. Fewer than one hundred pages on (at page 233):

'"Didn't he take a mobile phone?"

"He said he wanted to immerse himself in the local culture and not anchor himself to his old life. To be honest, I think he was afraid his family might be on at him every day unless he cut himself off."

"He's succeeded there …"'

These are not the only instances of the appearance of what is today's most used and abused expression in the English language – at least in the United Kingdom: 'To be honest …'

Every day on the streets, in the shops, in the media, at conferences, in presentations, in workshops and seminars, in lectures – 'To be honest …' is everywhere. Novelists employ it unremittingly. Professors in all disciplines do not abjure its use. Nor do non-fiction writers renounce it. Ever constant in its employment, 'To be honest …' appears as often as, in Australia, 'you know' finds its way into everyday language – too often, too readily, too much.

As with 'you know', 'to be honest' is cringe-worthy, irritating and wholly unnecessary. Yet for unfathomable reasons, it peppers conversation until surely listeners are bound to scream – except that they, too, when having their chance to speak are (sadly) so often at one with their companions. Every one – and everyone – is apparently afraid of being seen as liars-all unless adding those fatal words – 'to be honest'. Or do they simply not think about it, not realise the monotony with which they repeat the expression? Does the phrase slip off the tongue, a mindless engagement?

Whatever the case, the 'to be honest' problem is not isolated to the Atlantic's European side. The New York Times 'number one best seller' (as the cover tells us), written by Daniel Silva and published in the United States in 2010 by GP Putnam's Sons, confirms the idiom's trans-Atlantic appeal – at least for novelists. Hence, The Rembrandt Affair, at page 161, does not disappoint:

'"And you, Herr Voss?" Gabriel asked after a long pause. "Did you ever look for the money?"

'"To be honest, I considered it …"'

Nor is this an isolated slip, for later (at page 222):

'"I stumbled upon some interesting documents a few days ago …"

'"What are they?"

'"To be honest, I have no idea. I was hoping you might know."'

These examples could be repeated from novel after novel, speech after speech, conversation after conversation. Do offending novelists excuse the use of the phrase, and its ubiquity, by asserting that they are simply putting into their characters' mouths dialogue in conformity with everyday 'street' language? Yet can such an explanation hold, when 'you know' does not slip into the 'everyday' language of characters populating antipodean novels, despite its omnipresence on the street.

Is it a matter of word-count? Would Dickens have employed the phrase, had it been in use in his time, to extract a few extra notes or coins from his publishers? Is it a case of copy editors no longer being employed by publishing houses to slash with a blue pencil such annoyances, or would copy editors not notice the otiose nature of the phrase?

Certainly, eliminating 'to be honest' serves readers (and writers) far better, as in:

'"Did you ever look for the money?"

'"I considered it …"'

And:

'"We have to have her, at least for tonight, … I didn't think she'd get in touch at all: I'm only pleased she feels she can trust me."

Still, such superfluity of words is not confined to these: 'To be honest' is not the only offender in today's world. Take all the service announcements – whether spoken or written:

'"We apologise for the inconvenience caused."'

These words are said or penned as if the statement is complete, or that six words rather than five are required. Yet those waiting for the additional words necessary to make sense of what has already been said, wait in vain. The makers of these apologetic messages seem not to understand that English requires only: 'We apologise for the inconvenience.'

Nor do these message makers seem to appreciate that if 'caused' is added, then the sentence is incomplete without the listener or reader being told the cause. Never do we learn 'caused by WHAT'?

Even where a cause is stated at the outset (as is sometimes so), 'inconvenience caused' continues to be stated, when simple 'inconvenience' not only would suffice, but is obviously correct – rather than as in this message:

'Dear user

'We are currently performing maintenance and updating our account database services, and as a result of this your Accounts must be modernized.

'We apologize for any inconvenience caused.

'Failure to do so within 72 hours will immediately disabled [sic] your account from our database.

'Please complete the details below.

'Account: ………

'Name: .........

'Password: ...........'

A message (unlike that quoted here) that ends with 'inconvenience' rather than 'caused' has the listener or reader (this one, at least) bounding with joy (figuratively). Yet the chance to bound (whether figuratively or literally) comes infrequently, for 'the inconvenience caused' is almost as ubiquitous as 'to be honest', never mind 'you know'.

Then there's the use of language in circumstances clearly showing that the user/s believe the recipient/s are, bluntly, stupid. Thus, those messages arriving in an e-mail user's 'in' box:

'Dear Officers, Your mailbox size of 1 GB has exceeded its quota and we areperforming [sic] an ongoing upgrade in our Iprimus.com.au mailbox database, and we are de-activating all our un-used account [sic], so there can be enough space forour [sic] certified users.

'If You Want Your Mailbox To Remain Active, Then You Have to Provide YourCorrect [sic] Account Details …

'Fill the detail correctly for your account to be upgraded.

Name:

Surname:

Email address:

Password:

Confirm password:

Date of birth:

'… Thank you for your cooperation …'

Apart from wondering why the writer would assume a recipient's compliance with a message so lacking in basic proofreading (or even the use of Spellcheck), surely if one's mailbox has exceeded its quota, then no further messages should be received. Shouldn't this one, like any other, 'bounce'? Would anyone send given name, family name and date of birth, much less password, in response?

So, back to language. Today it's almost always 'bored of' rather than 'bored with' (the former a horrible collocation of words!). Yet, its use so frequent now, 'bored of' well may become optional, just as 'different to' is apparently 'acceptable' today, when 'different from' is (at least was) correct.

And, finally – for the moment, anyway, what of 'gunna'. This appears to have replaced 'going to' or the better expression 'intending to' or, simply, 'will'. 'Gunna' (as in 'I'm gunna', 'we're gunna') finds its place in speeches delivered from national stages so often that, sooner or later, surely it will turn up in our dictionaries.

Similarly, instead of 'us' (short 's') we are now assailed with 'uzzzzz'.

Still, at least some people continue to say 'Australia' instead of the too often (mis)pronounced 'Ostray-ya'.

Let's hope we might continue living in former rather than the latter. At least in my lifetime.