"Drawing on my fine command of language, I said nothing."

For those of you who don't know me I am a linguist. A linguist who has changed his degree programme so many times that even I'm unsure of what I study these days and have taken to wandering into random classrooms hoping I'll be able to understand something. This doesn't always end well, especially since I often accidentally end up in physics lectures; a subject which frankly seems more foreign than Swahili to my tiny brain. But the reason I have changed so many times is not entirely down to indecisiveness, nor is it down to a masochistic desire to torture myself grammatically. It is largely due to a love of the beauty of languages, and this can be best demonstrated by those words that are so unique to a particular culture that they are difficult to translate into other tongues.

English, as the most widely spoken language worldwide, is often imported into other cultures' vocabularies; a fact lamented by many and France even have a government body that tries (and fails) to counteract the trend. Some imports are more amusing than others. The Czechs have borrowed the word 'party'; a fact that conjures up amusing images of groups prior to its introduction sitting around, twiddling their thumbs and looking anxiously at their watches, all the while thinking, "there's got to be something more exciting we could be doing with a Friday evening".

And English, as a language influenced by hundreds of languages throughout its history, has similarly adopted many words from foreign cultures. The French term "l'esprit d'escalier" describes the feeling one gets after a conversation when thinking of all the things one should have said; a moment infamously exemplified by poor Gordon Brown, recorded whilst kicking himself for not having thought of the insult "bigoted woman" whilst still on stage. We also use the German word "Schadenfreude" to talk about the pleasure experienced when seeing another's misfortune. How the British didn't come up with a word of their own is anyone's guess when the nation's favorite past-time seems to be slowing down to stare sadistically at road traffic accidents.

But many foreign words are very difficult to translate into English, and it is these that say so much about the culture in which they originate. Only the French could take being unemployed and make it into the active verb "chomer", thereby making it a noble choice as opposed to state of misfortune (no wonder they have so much time to burn cars). In a similar vein, surely every Frenchman is a "flaneur" when this describes a "deliberately aimless pedestrian, unencumbered by any obligation or sense of urgency, who, being French and therefore frugal, wastes nothing, including his time which he spends with the leisurely discrimination of a gourmet, savoring the multiple flavors of his city"? The Scottish culture is also only truly reflected in its idiosyncrasies; I can only assume that the Gaelic term "Sgriob", describing a pleasant itch in the upper lip just before a sip of whiskey, led to the creation of the verb "to tartle" meaning to hesitate during an introduction because you suddenly forget the name of the person you are introducing. The latter is far more likely to take place in an inebriated state and when the individual being introduced could be one of many 'Mac's.

I can go on for hours on this one. The Jews have the word "shlimazl" to describe someone who is chronically unlucky; somewhat important I should imagine for a race that has endured centuries of persecution. "Mafan" is probably used on an almost daily basis in the Communist State of China, being used to complain of trouble relating to government beaurocracy. And only a nation like Finland that spends the majority of its year laden with snow would need to describe a snowless patch of ground as a "pavli". It wouldn't surprise me if they did a ceremonial dance around it.

There are many words I think that we should import. We all know someone who tells jokes that are so badly told and unfunny that it is impossible not to laugh; if only we used the Indonesian term "jayus" to describe such appalling quips. You only have to watch X factor to feel the emotion of "pena ajena" used by the Mexicans to describe the embarrassment felt when witnessing someone else's humiliation, and many a woman could find use for the Filipino word "gheegle" meaning to find something so cute one immediately wants to squeeze it.

Many words, however, do seem somewhat pointless. I don't know anyone who pretend-bites, but if you do why not recommend the Japanese word "Amagami" as a handy way of expressing this action? Some just seem far too specific; the fact that a "kaelling" in Danish describes a woman who stands on her doorstep hurling obscenities at her children suggests that this is something of a problematic trend in Denmark which requires urgent attention before the next generation grows up scarred, emotionally deprived and fond of rap music. And I appreciate sitting in an igloo for hours on end can't be the most exciting way to pass time, but do the Inuits really need the verb "iktsuarpok" to describe going out to see if anyone's coming? Is it worth it for a start with all the snow, polar bears and vindictive seals who've witnessed family members clubbed to death and are hoping to catch them unawares?

It's been a brief, speedy and somewhat shallow delve into the wonderful world of words, but I hope you found it as amusing as I do. If I didn't have that to get me through hours of painful grammar I think I would have a constant feeling of "l'appel du vide"; a desire to jump from a very high place.

Trust the French to come up with that one.