(to) do a two six ‘To do something very speedily and promptly’. Mr E. Pettinger, Lanarkshire, inquired (1993) about a saying ‘which was common among RAF ground staff when I was serving between 1945 and 1948. It was said when help was required in opening or closing the big hangar doors – “Two Six on the hangar doors!” I can still visualise the response following the shout. One had to stop what one was doing and help to push the enormous sliding doors.’ Partridge/Slang dates it from 1930. Compare one-two, one-two, which a military person might bark with the same intention. Possibly from gun-drill – the number of a command in an instruction booklet? Paul Beale commented: ‘Numbers Two and Six were part of the guncrew in Nelson’s navy, or soon after, whose arduous task it was to heave the cannon back after firing so that Number something-else could swab it out, and yet another Number reload for (probably) Number One to light and fire again.’
doctor See IS THERE A.
Doctor Greasepaint (or Doctor Theatre) will cure me Both versions of this theatrical saying were quoted in obituaries for the actress Irene Handl in November 1987 as phrases that had been used by her. The saying suggests that acting is not only a cure for ailments but also that actors have to be well most of the time to be able to perform their function. The actor Bernard Bresslaw commented in 1991 that his preference was for Doctor Footlights will cure me. Compare (the) best doctors in the world are Doctor Diet, Doctor Quiet and Doctor Merryman. This nannyish sentiment goes back to Jonathan Swift who included it among the clichés of Polite Conversation (1738). Nay, even further: Apperson has a citation from 1558 and the idea may be found in a poem by Lidgate (1449). The creation of an imaginary doctor’s name can also be found in the nickname Dr Brighton for the healthy seaside resort.
Doctor Livingstone, I presume? Now a catchphrase used on meeting someone unexpectedly or after an arduous journey, this famous greeting was put by (Sir) Henry Morton Stanley, the explorer and journalist, to the explorer and missionary Dr David Livingstone at Ujiji, Lake Tanganyika, on 10 November 1871. Stanley had been sent by the New York Herald to look for Livingstone, who was missing on a journey in central Africa. In How I Found Livingstone (1872), Stanley described the moment: ‘I would have run to him, only I was a coward in the presence of such a mob – would have embraced him, only, he being an Englishman, I did not know how he would receive me; so I did what cowardice and false pride suggested was the best thing – walked deliberately to him, took off my hat and said: “Dr Livingstone, I presume?” “Yes,” said he, with a kind smile, lifting his cap slightly.’
doctors wear scarlet Phrase put on invitations to university gatherings – ‘Evening dress with decorations, doctors wear scarlet’ – referring to the scarlet academic robes worn by doctors of law and divinity, and so on. Doctors Wear Scarlet is the title of a novel (1960) by Simon Raven and is set in Cambridge University, involving certain bloody goings-on thereat.
dodgy! Rather as the British upper classes tend to rely on two adjectives – ‘fascinating’ and ‘boring’ – so, too, did the comedian Norman Vaughan (1923–2002) in the 1960s. Accompanied by an upward gesture of the thumb, his swinging! was the equivalent of upper-class ‘fascinating’ and (with a downward gesture of the thumb) his ‘dodgy!’, the equivalent of their ‘boring’. Vaughan commented in 1979: ‘The words “swinging” and “dodgy” came originally from my association with jazz musicians and just seemed to creep into everyday conversation. Then when I got the big break at the Palladium [introducing ITV’s Sunday Night at the London Palladium in 1962] they were the first catchphrases that the papers and then the public seized upon.’ According to Anthony Howard and Richard West, The Making of the Prime Minister 1964, the Labour Party considered using the word ‘swinging’ with an upraised thumb as the basis of its advertising campaign prior to the 1964 General Election. Doubts were expressed, however, whether everyone would get the allusion and only the thumb was used. Although not, of course, the first person to use the word, Vaughan’s use of ‘swinging’ helped to characterize an era – the SWINGING SIXTIES. During his Palladium stint he also introduced the format phrase a touch of the—(‘A touch of the Nelson Riddles’ etc.) Later, he had a TV series called A Touch of the Norman Vaughans. This was established by May 1965 when an undergraduate revue at Oxford was entitled A Touch of the Etceteras (‘The Etceteras’ being a hoped-for Oxford equivalent of the Cambridge Footlights).
does a bear shit in the woods/a dog have fleas/a wooden horse have a hickory dick? See IS THE POPE.
does he take sugar? A principal failing of people when dealing with the physically disabled is encapsulated in the title of the BBC Radio series Does He Take Sugar? This phrase, pinpointed originally by social workers in the title of a booklet, ‘Does he take sugar in his tea?’, was used from the programme’s inception in 1978. It represents the unthinking attitude that leads people to talk to the companions or relatives of those with physical disabilities rather than directly to the people themselves. From ‘Guide to the Representation of People With Disabilities in Programmes’ (compiled by Geoffrey Prout, BBC, 1990): ‘For the record, [the title] has nothing to do with diabetes. It refers to the tendency of able-bodied people to speak over the heads of those with a disability and assume that they are brain-dead. In fact the vast majority of people, no matter what their disability, are perfectly able and willing to speak for themselves.’
does Muhammad Ali own a mirror? See IS THE POPE.
does my bum look big in this? See SUITS YOU, SIR.
doesn’t it make you want to spit! An Arthur Askey catchphrase from the BBC radio show Band Waggon (1938–39) and subsequently. Askey commented (1979) that he was rapped over the knuckles for introducing this ‘unpleasant expression’: ‘[Sir John] Reith [the BBC Director-General] thought it a bit vulgar but I was in the driving seat. The show was so popular, he couldn’t fire me. I suppose I said it all the more!’
(he) doesn’t know his ass from a hole in the ground One of numerous ‘doesn’t know’ phrases designed to describe another person’s ignorance or stupidity. Mostly American, dating perhaps from the early 1900s and mostly featuring the word arse/ass. The format ‘Doesn’t know…from a hole in the ground’ is used in the film Mr Smith Goes to Washington (US 1939). (He) doesn’t know whether to shit or light a fire is about a person who can’t make up his mind, and apparently this refers to soldiers who, at the end of a long day’s march can’t decide whether to warm up first, or…Surprisingly, Eric Partridge (with his army background) does not appear to know this expression. However, he did include (to describe ignorance rather than indecision): ‘He doesn’t know whether to shit or go blind/whether he wants a shit or a haircut/whether to scratch his watch or wind his ass’, some of which are American in origin. A similar British expression is (he) doesn’t know pussy from a bull’s foot – referring to someone who doesn’t know what he is talking about or is ignorant. Partridge/Slang has doesn’t know a great A from a bull’s foot and ‘does not know A from a battledore/windmill/the gableend’ (these last two versions known since 1401). There is also ‘doesn’t know B from a bull’s foot’ (1401), ‘battledor’ (1565) and ‘broomstick’ (undated). So we are definitely talking about the letter ‘A’ rather than hay. All this means is that somebody cannot distinguish between the letter in a child’s alphabet book and the object in question.
doesn’t