It’s too bad the quaint cool-sounding derogatory noun oaf is dying out, having been supplanted over the years by bonehead, spastic, and most recently dickhead, all of which lack the specific visual associations we conjure at the sight or sound of the word. 

Oafs are male, usually bald, fat, dull-eyed, slack-mouthed, and clumsy whereas dickheads can be good-looking Lotharios who catalog their romantic conquests or gifted athletes who make acrobatic catches or PhDs who lord their petty powers over TAs eking out livings in academia.

The thing is, though, if you close your eyes and attempt to visualize an oaf, chances are you picture some lout in Medieval garb, Chaucer’s Miller or Shakespeare’s Bottom the Weaver.

The Millere was a stout carl for the nones; 

Ful byg he was of brawn and eek of bones. 

That proved wel, for over-al, ther he cam, 

At wrastlynge he wolde have alwey the ram. 

He was short-sholdred, brood, a thikke knarre; 

Ther nas no dore that he nolde heve of harre, 

Or breke it at a rennyng with his heed. 

His berd as any sowe or fox was reed, 

And therto brood, as though it were a spade. 

Upon the cop right of his nose he hade 

A werte, and thereon stood a toft of herys, 

Reed as the brustles of a sowes erys; 

His nosethirles blake were and wyde. 

A swerd and a bokeler bar he by his syde. 

Illustration from Thijs Porck’s leidenmedievalistsblog

Here’s my translation:

The Miller was a stout dude of stone

Very big he was of brawn and bone.

That proved well. When it came

to wrestling, he always won the ram.

He was short, broad-shouldered, a thick tor

Who could rip the hinges off any door

Or break it by ramming it with his head.

His beard like a sow or fox was red

and broad just like a spade.

On the right side of his nose he had

a wart that sprouted a tuft of hairs

red as the bristles of a sow’s ears;

his nostrils were black and wide.

A sword and buckler he had by his side.

You probably wouldn’t call the drooling loud mouth banging his hand on the bar for service an oaf; however, in my research I have discovered a modern day oaf, thanks to that most urbane of publications The Daily Mail, the UK’s version of the National Enquirer. Checkout these headlines.

Foul-mouthed motorist with ‘Big Oaf’ number plate and ‘Fast and the Fuhrerious’ T-shirt rants at coach driver to ‘get a proper job’ in 15-minute road rage stand-off that sees him dubbed ‘the new Ronnie Pickering’

• Bald man tells coach driver to ‘get a proper job and shut your mouth’ in video 
• Overweight VW driver launches an abusive tirade through the coach window 
• The road rage motorist wore bizarre T-shirt reading ‘Fast and Fuhrerious’ 
• Compared to Ronnie Pickering, whose 2015 row with motorcyclist went viral 
• Do you know the ‘Big Oaf’? Contact alex.robertson@mailonline.co.uk or call 0203 615 3767

Here’s the LINK.

So, dear readers, I encourage you to be on the lookout for oafs and use the word, which is such an unlovely embodiment of sound and sense. Say it out loud – oaf – and feel it coming out your mouth – oaf.

Ah, life’s simple pleasures.