His Works hereafter will be more favourably receiv’d..by the Meists and Selfists.
Common Sense (1737)

A meist (or me-ist) is someone who subscribes to some form of me-ism. You know the type. Maybe you are the type. I don’t know, you tell me: are you a youist?

Hey, it’s another perfect name-calling word. Oh frabjous day! Callooh! Callay! Now you can call all the big-headed people you know meists. You can nickname the most meistiest one the meist-meister!

The confusing thing is who you’re referring to when you say it. If I say, “I’m a meist!” that of course means that I’m full of myself. But if I ask, “Are you a meist?” couldn’t I be asking you if you’re full of me? I could say youist, but then it’s unclear if the person I’m referring to is full if him/herself or others.

So that to a man that is meatefyed in flesh, and whose state (in this world) is desperate, a Sergiant may serue instead of a Deaths head, to put him in minde of his last day.
Jests to Make You Merry, Thomas Dekker & George Wilkins (1607)

It sounds like something you’d say about something you plan on eating, don’t it? “The cows are looking very meatified already. Looks like we’ll be havin’ hamburgers a little earlier this year!”

Or perhaps it refers to someone who eats way too many hamburgers. Or other meat. The steak and bacon diet… not recommended. I do, however, recommend this word as an insult. Use it wisely.

Are you mortified of becoming meatified? No worries. Just send me all your money and you will become thinner in no time!

Those quomodocunquizing clusterfists and rapacious varlets.
The discovery of a most exquisite jewel, Sir Thomas Urquhart (1652)

There’s a ten dollar word, if ever I heard one. Take the next minute or two to practice pronouncing quomodocunquizing.

Good. Now that you’ve mastered that you’ve taken the next step necessary to become a smart-soundy-talker.

If this word were shorter (damn you modern people and your desire for short words) it might be all over the place in today’s news. There are plenty of people out there working odd jobs and even jobs to make some extra cash in this economy. If I were to shorten it for you hippopotomonstrosesquippedaliophobians it would probably be, um, cash-whore.

Are you and quomodocunquizer? How’s that working out for you?

… a distressing pathological condition in which the thighs are suppressed and the buttocks spring directly from behind the knees, aptly described in Steiss’s nosonomy as Panpygoptosis.
Murphy, Samuel Beckett (1938)

This condition is also known as Duck’s Disease. There’s nothing to be ashamed about if you have it… if you’re a duck.

Now it’s not a nice thing to make fun of someone because of their physical features. So if you’re trying to be really mean, you’re on the right track. Some one, or thing, that has very short legs can be said to have panpygoptosis.

If the target of your insult reads this blog, they will be offended because the meaning is known. If they don’t read this blog, they will be offended because the meaning is unknown. Looks like panpygoptosis is a a guaranteed offender.

Perhaps you could use a form of this word for less offensive purposes. “Do you have a chair that’s less panpygoptossicky? I’m basically sitting on the ground.”

Mineralogists, astronomers, ornithologists, and lousologists.
A memoir by Lady Holland, Sydney Smith (1835)

Of all the disrespected professions, lousologists are at the top of the list. Or perhaps the bottom. No one else devotes themselves so selflessly to the study of a creature that the rest of the world is trying to kill.

But seriously folks, it’s a seriously serious problem. Make sure to check yourself and your children for lice as often as humanly possible.

I think you know how much I love name-calling… this is a great word to use for that noble purpose. Call someone a lousologist, not because they study lice (who the heck does that anyway?), but because you don’t care what they do!

It might also be a good one to use when you meet people at a bar and need something silly to talk about. “What do I do? Oh, I’m a lousologist.”

The ogre was cepivorous.
McNunter the Ogre Hunter, Nom D. Plume (2009)

I couldn’t find a real citation. I didn’t look to hard either. If you use this word in an article or blog post after reading this, I’d be glad to feature it here in exchange for a Pop-Tart.

This word can also be spelled cepevorous. The Oxford English Dictionary spells it as it is in the title, and most other dictionaries use the other spelling. The OED spelling is appealing-er to my eye, so I’ll continue to use it.

Whether it’s spelled with an I or and E, don’t let that stinky cepivore near me.  This cepivorous fellow should have curiously strong mint to help with hiser halitosis.

To such a one — if such there be — do you bathe regularly? Are you out in public much? Have you tried Pop-Tarts? If you answered no any of those questions, please reconsider your lifestyle. As tasty as onion are in certain dishes, they cannot provide you with the nutrition your body requires. They also make you stink. So please, on behalf of everyone, take a bath and change your diet. I highly recommend Pop-Tarts.

His Bishop [Bp. Wren], that great Thesmophilist.
A discourse of proper sacrifice, Sir Edward Dering (1644)

Who among you loves law? Or any laws in particular?  … No one? How unexpected. I don’t even think most lawyers are thesmophilists. They know law because it’s their job, but love it? Nah.

Feel free to prove me wrong, I’m basing my comments on guesses and nothing else.

Thesmophilist could be easily used as a pejorative term. You know how much I love name-calling. Teach this one to your kids. “Okay honey, when the hall monitor threatens to tell on you, you just call him a dirty poo-poo thesmophilist and run away.”

Much circumfloribus stuff was talked of on the Court side.
Autobiography, Mary Granville (1739)

The OED lists this word in particular as a “humorous nonce-word.” The others I’ve written about aren’t? A search reveals that according to the editors there are 55 humorous nonce words listed. The rest were decidedly unfunny. I happen to disagree with these editors, as many of the previous words I’ve listed are quite silly… but they make the big bucks working on the OED and I have this blog.

Perhaps I’m being a little long winded on this subject. Am I circumfloribus? No. I need to be flowery too.

A dozen roses! There.

I can think of a few fustian circumlocutary windbags whose conversation I might describe as circumfloribus. The majority of the thought-of circumfloribusters are in the world of politics. Coincidence? You decide.

He  is indeed..the prince of Pettifogulisers.
The Common Reader: 2nd Series, Virginia Woolf (1932)

I like the sound of this word. I don’t think I need any other reason to post it, right? It also falls into the category of words you can use for name-calling without getting into too much trouble because no one else will know what the word means. Unless of course they read this blog — which is  highly unlikely.

It’s probably safe to use, so I will. If you’re ever called a Pettifogulizer, it’s probably me. Introduce yourself. I’d be happy to meet one of my two readers.

…that rogue, that foist, that fencing Burgullian?
- Every Man In His Humor, Ben Jonson (1598)

This word has a great sound to it. If you call someone a burgullion, they might not know what it means but it’s not to hard to tell that this isn’t a very nice thing to call someone… so use it!

This word is “Conjectured to be a term of contempt, invented upon the overthrow of the Bastard of Burgundy in a contest with Anthony Woodville, in Smithfield 1467,” but OED says that this story is most likely not the true origin of this word.

Maybe it’s “burglar” + “gullion” which would be “a mean person who steals things.” Maybe not.