Are You a Busybody?

Post 398

The meddler. The less successful brother of The Riddler. The kibitzer. I don’t know. Sounds Yiddish. Sounds like a biscuit. I fancy a biscuit. Sorry, where were we? Ah yes, the nosy parker. Named after… God knows. Many myths and rumours surround that one. Although we do know that it was not named after a Peeping Tom in Hyde Park. It’s an urban legend. That the phrase comes from a specific Peeping Tom in Hyde Park, not that there are Peeping Toms in Hyde Park. There are hundreds of them. Hence, hyde park, the Old English word for hide, which is what they were doing. I may have made that up. What else do we have? Ah yes, stickybeak. The origin? Meh, I don’t know. It’s Australian. Say no more. A marplot. A character in The Busy Body. Of course, all these are words for that very thing. The busybody.

There once was a Greek philosopher named Theophrastus. And he… oh, man, I can’t find a bloody rhyme for that. Do I look like Shakespeare? Was he a poet? I don’t know, I never paid attention in English. Actually, I somewhat look like Shakespeare. Oh. Sort of undermined myself there. Well, that’s why one should never build oneself on foundations. I mean, the Victorians didn’t build any of their buildings on foundations and they’ve produced timeless classics that will live on forever more. Sorry, what was my point? Ah, yes. There once was a Greek philosopher named Theophrastus. And he… oh, man, I can’t find a bloody rhyme for that…

He wrote a book named Characters, in which he described the busybody for the first time. ‘In the proffered services of the busybody, there is much of the affectation of kind-heartedness, and little efficient aid’. In The Busy Body, there’s a character named Marplot, who interferes in the romantic affairs of his friends and, despite being well meaning, frustrates them. He was characterised as a busybody whose ‘chief pleasure is knowing everybody’s business’. It is a person who puts their nose into other people’s business. They are gossips and spread information like a disease. They snoop and harbour deadly secrets. They are Peeping Toms who snoop into your windows as you stand there inside, as God made you. Flabby and underwhelming.

No. Not me. Never me. Not I, not ever. I don’t ‘snoop’. I might fall in on the occasional conversation but I walk away and if I can’t, I try my best to ignore the goings-on. I genuinely don’t give a damn what’s going on. I’m happy in my own little world. That’s me and that’s who I happen to be.

Oh, wow! I can rhyme!

Are you a busybody, readers?

Ciao :)(:

I’d love to hear your thoughts on this post. You can leave a comment and/or like this post below, or by clicking the title on the top of this post if you are on the archives page. Likes and follows greatly appreciated. Thanks.

Please feel free check out the latest posts from my other two blogs:

The Indelible Life of Me
New Post Every Sunday
Click Here to Read the Latest Post

Hark Around the Words
New Posts Every Monday, Wednesday and Friday
Click Here to Read the Latest Post


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