This is the illusionist in which I, Helen Zoltzman, bike down on language to stifle the

sound of my own screams of despair. Today's show is about one of the things we do to avoid

talking about politics, small talk, how words attempt to bridge the gap between one of

our skin sacks and another. Let's prepare ourselves with a little word history. Here's

the etymology of conversation. The word has had its current meaning of talk since the 1570s, prior

to that, it meant living with or keeping company with, which goes back as far as Latin, where

conversation originated from Convertare, literally to turn about with, giving the impression that

the ancient Romans chatted while dosy doing. In the Bible, conversation was more likely to refer

to someone's social relationships, their place within their community. But from at least the

early 16th century, conversation was also a euphemism for sex, and criminal conversation was a

legal term for adultery. It's still in use in some places now, but in England, at the peak of

such cases in the late 18th and early 19th centuries, husbands who brought criminal conversation

lawsuits against their wives or their wives' lovers could win damages equivalent to £10-20m

million in present-day money per act of adultery. Good earner, if you're with a husband,

nothing for you, Georgian era ladies. It's not that kind of conversation we're talking about today,

though, on with the show.

How are you? How am I looking at my wreck, my pain, I'm not feeling well. I just want to

wash the game of thrones and fall asleep. No, you're not actually supposed to give a

truthful response to the question, how are you, unless it's your doctor asking. Hi,

hi, how are you? I'm wearing trousers that are kind of digging into my bum in a weird way. Oh really?

Yeah, they're like across between leggings and jeans and jaggings. Yeah, and they're fine, but

part of them's falling down and part of them's digging in, which is quite a strange combination.

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