Jazz Up Your Lesson

Tony preached at the neighbourhood church for three months before he was ejected through its tall oaken doors, once the congregation discovered he was a theologaster and a pseudapostle.

Tom admitted he was a cartomaniac; it was for this very reason that he insisted the glove compartment should be his domain, and only his. But Vivian – who was an avid deltiologist – always annoyed him on road trips by filling it with the fruits of her own enthusiasm.

Pete was a philocalist, so he found the delectable Silvia irresistible. He even stifled his misocapnist bent in order to pass out cigars to his friends after she had agreed to marry him.

Sam was a quidnunc. Pamela was a scuttlebutthead. They never lacked for conversation.

Sylvester was highly regarded as a sarcast, and he was always the hit at company parties. But he could not seem to make an impression on Tobias, his boss, even when the rest of his department was choking with laughter. Tobias was such an agelast!

“Oh, Timothy, you are such a cogger. I have only just met you, but I do not believe one word out of your mouth,” mewed Susie.

“Why, Sue, honey, do not say that!” protested the debonair Timothy. “I admit I am a philoxenist, but you can trust me!”

Violet had been an arctophilist and a plangonologist for so many years that her husband suggested she open a store to sell off her collections. He so wanted the spare bedroom to be available for his visiting parents, and as it was, one could barely fit through the door. Violet told him she could not part with any of them: they were all she wanted as a child and to let them go now would simply be so sad.

Young Sue was unhappy about her Wednesday afternoon schedule. Sue had to get ready for piano lesson on Thursday – but she was such a misdoctakleidist! – and she had an algebra exam on Friday – something she did not think any misomath, like herself, should have to go through.

Clement had become such an extreme luddite that he had smashed his neighbour’s computer. Now he was an analysand (the court’s doing), which did not seem to be helping much, but at least it got him out of the house for an hour each week.

Beatrice drove everyone in the library crazy. She was a siffleuse, and did not seem to know when to stop. She did apologize, once Bella – exercising her duties as a silentiary – pointed out to her how disruptive she was.

As an alopecist, Austin wanted nothing more than to fix his father’s hairstyle. He was horrified to hear friends call Austin a swoophead.

Dave was a mashaller at the Sydney airport. His mother, who lived in New York City, liked to call him “my adorable, antiscian with arching arms!”

Deborah was thrilled to get a job as a famulus to Professor George, the famous shaconian. She hoped to help him prove his unpopular position to the rigid Shakespeare lovers who dominated the English department.

Alfred the wowser was always telling those around him how they should behave. Ben did not like it; he called Alfred a microlipet, making mountains of molehills when he really should just let people be.

“Chris! You can either accept that job as a nacket at the tennis club, or you can spend your summer as a screever on the streets of the city, but I’m through giving you handouts when you do not do anything around here!” yelled his father.

Daniel was a polyphage; all the waitresses in town knew him on a first-name basis and looked forward to his big tips. He loved beer, too, but few people knew he was a labeorphilist. His scrapbooks were kept in a locked cabinet.