Occasionally in literature, one reads a passage that condenses a whole galaxy of meaning into a beautifully concise phrase. (To be able to write such a phrase is a mark of genius, and is something to which I eagerly aspire, however unlikely it seems that I am to arrive at such a hallowed state.) Even more rarely, such a phrase emerges into the everyday vernacular, and is generally used without a second thought to the richness contained within.
“WTF” is, in my mind, such a phrase. I am ignorant of the origins of the triplet, but if I ever meet the person that first assembled it, I’d like to shake their hand. It manages to convey an enormous depth of feeling, and does this while gloriously, hilariously, making no sense at all as a piece of English language. In its expanded form, it can be used in almost any situation where the company is prepared to tolerate the use of the word “Fuck”, and it is often proposed as a statement rather than a question, thus lending the phrase a very much extended range of use.
As a question, it captures a peculiarly incredulous mix of confusion and disbelief. It’s hard to describe, which is why the phrase is such a marvel. I can’t really think of another other set of three words that injects such a large volume of meaning directly into the soul of its audience. For a three-word phrase, it has the power of an express train. Say it, roll it around in your mouth, and get a feel for its versatility. There is no problem that cannot be addressed with a heartfelt ejaculation of “What the fuck?” Said loudly, it brings relief to the speaker, however temporary that relief may be. (Fortunately, the only resource required to restore that sense of relief is the breath to shout it again.) Whispered under the breath, it brings with it a sense of menace to the listener – to be taken as a warning of impending doom. This can be applied to the safest, most ordinary of topics. “I hear Mary’s baked scones for the carnival this year.” So far, Mary is something of a heroine. Now imagine the speaker’s voice whispering conspiringly “What the fuck?” Suddenly, in three short words, Mary is a hapless victim of fate, doomed for a whole year to suffer the ignominy and humiliation of having baked presumably inferior scones.
Written down in its abbreviated form (“WTF”), it never ceases to amuse me, never ceases to bring a little chortle of delight. It’s like a black hole – so much mass contained within such little space. When one sees those three letters appear in an email, one can instantly empathise with the writer, recreating their exact same feelings in some small part of one’s brain. Can any other three letters do this? I suspect not.