Yesterday, Deeky and I were talking about what a wonderfully descriptive word "dolt" is. It's practically onomatopoeic, given what is certainly its proximate aural quality to that of a thudding brain. It's very underused. One of the best, I said. Deeky agreed it has a great feel to it.

But as splendid as "dolt" may be, it can't hold a candle to the Scots word "glaik."

Glaik (which rhymes with "lake," and is sometimes written as "glake") is just this perfect word that means someone who is not merely a dolt, but an awkward, klutzy, gormless douche as well. Like, when I absently run into the doorway as I'm walking through it, which happens fairly often as I'm a clumsy git, Mr. Shakes says, "What are ye like, ye fookin' glaik?"

Being extra glaiky will elicit the charge of being a glaikit. Like, when Matilda, who is the most unbelievably graceless cat in the history of the world, goes sprawling off the coffee table and kicks a glass of tea, sending it spraying everywhere, Mr. Shakes says, "Oy! Ye fookin' glaikit animal!"

It's difficult to describe the exact quality of glaik, which is what makes it such a perfect term. But there is a picture in existence which managed to capture the ultimate glaikit in a moment of unadulterated glaikery, a picture so masterful in its capacity to convey the spirit of glaik that even the glaikiest glaiks among us will be able to grok its meaning.

This, Shakers, is a glaik.

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