Roddy Lumsden Reviews The Chambers Gigglossary

In the 1750s, while compiling his landmark dictionary, Doctor Johnson offered this definition of lexicographer: 'a harmless drudge, that busies himself in tracing the original, and detailing the signification of words.' As well as taking a shot at himself, he was noting the dual nature of the dictionary trade – the derivation and the definition, and seeing as the former is the more scholarly, and more drudgesome, discipline of the two, it is no wonder that lexicographers have followed Johnson's example and allowed a little humour to crawl into the definitions.

The Chambers Dictionary has always incorporated this element, since the 1901 first edition. This definition from way back then is still in the dictionary today: 'sea-serpent: an enormous marine animal of serpent-like form frequently seen and described by credulous sailors, imaginative landsmen and common liars.' Others, such as 'vamp – a fatherless bird of prey' were thought too frivolous and disappeared before the second edition.

Two years ago, aware that dictionary lovers were interested in this odd practice, the team at Chambers produced a pamphlet of these definitions, complete with some humorous definitions which had been sent into their website, and a few favourites from wits such as Ambrose Bierce and Oscar Wilde. This chapbook proved so popular that they have now produced an extended book-sized edition, Chambers Gigglossary.

The book contains four sections – it begins with a lengthy article by Dr Julie Coleman, an academic who specialises in lexicology, which looks at the connections through time between dictionaries and humour, with many curious and amusing examples, including quite a few from a favourite of mine, Grose's Dictionary of the Vulgar Tongue. She also looks at the history of dictionaries of slang and pseudo-dictionaries such as The Urban Dictionary and Adams and Lloyd's little treasure The Meaning of Liff.

The second and third sections list the definitions which have appeared in Chambers down the years and noteable and famous humorous definitions from other sources. It is interesting to see which definitions are forthcoming in this year's edition, henceforth to be known as the Paxo edition, due to Jeremy Paxman's tongue in cheek ribbing of Burns which has caused much sporran beating and been taken far too seriously by the media.

So what's new in the Paxo edition? Well, we have 'wardrobe malfunction' (which has come into usage since it was used as the excuse for the exposure of Janet Jackson's nipple at the Superbowl), defined thus: 'the temporary failure of an item of clothing to cover a part of the body that it would be advisable to keep covered.' For details of ski mask, panda eyes, duvet day, platinum parachute and other new ones, see this book.

The fourth section is the Gigglossary itself – a list of 400 or so new humorous definitions, some sent in by the public, others written by the Chambers lexicography team. I must declare an interest here, as around half of them were written by me, one of the toughest assignments I have accepted as a writer. Being funny for money is a tough game. Imagine someone demanding that you 'say something original and funny... NOW!' Again and again.

I concluded that humorous writing is close to poetry – I would sit down each day and see if anything came – often nothing did, not one quip, not one whit of wit. Other days I knocked off a string of definitions, some of them not bad. Among the ones I like best in the Gigglossary are 'happiness – the stage name of delusion' and 'melba toast – the best thin singed sliced bread'. And since my involvement in this likeable, interesting book is limited, I don't feel too nepotistic in recommending it to anyone with a love of words.