Therapy English and its Malcontents
What is Therapy English and why must we mock it to death?
Don’t stone me, but I appeared on a popular podcast last week, and it went rather well.
I didn’t even drink beforehand. Now that I know I don’t need booze to talk somewhat eloquently to strangers, I am firmly committed to never doing anything sober ever again. This morning, I washed my filthy old Jaguar with a filthy Old Fashioned in my hand. (Funnily enough, the trusty Old Fash was imagined as a ‘matutinal’ i.e. a morning drink.) It does the job.
Excuse me. The podcast. Perhaps my host, the erudite and good-humoured Jim Herlihy, might be the last sane resident of California. Jim soon laid my suspicions to rest by branding the pejorative ‘psychobabble’ as the “lingua franca of California.”
Jim reminded me of that endangered species, the thoughtful, quick-to-laughter liberal, whose near-extinction we should all lament. Over forty-odd minutes, we discussed Tabloid English, therapy-speak, political correctness, and the sad death of ‘live and let live’—what was once called liberalism.
Anyway, the links are below. Don’t forget to give Jim’s podcast a follow.





Alas! I don't have (or is the correct verb 'do'?) Spotify. So now I have to obsess about whether or not I should download it to hear your dulcet tones. I KNOW I can delete it afterwards, but I also know that I won't want to.
Yesterday a friend convinced - or is it persuaded? - me to venture into instagr*m, where apparently the most accurate info is posted on the topic of mental illnesses, medication and interesting symptoms. Which is my current tunnel-visioned, aspergers- informed passion. I told myself I would only try it once, like having a smoke behind the bike shed, but I, well, I lied... and that's why I've spent the last 14 hours leapfrogging from schizophrenia to clinical depression, symptoms causes and cures
There are a lot of crazy people on insta****. Everyone's an expert.
Thank God I'm old.
Oh not Sodify 😬 sorry mate, no can do. Bloody loathe it.