Mr Banks stoked the fire, leaned back in the club’s leather armchair, and took a sip of whisky.

“Oh, the OED,” he said aloud, eyes boring a hole into his newspaper.

“What is it?” his friend enquired from the opposite chair.

“It’s that time of year when the OED announces its word of the year – an educational Christmas present that no one asked for and no one wants.”

“And what is their word of the year?” his friend asked.

“Rage bait,” Mr Banks replied with contempt on the tip of his tongue. “Content deliberately created to provoke anger, frustration, or outrage in its readers.”

“Okay,” his friend said in a here-we-go-again tone. “So what’s the problem?”

“My problem is, how’s that the word of the year? Is that seriously the best they could come up with? And who gets to decide? Some faddish clown in the OED’s upper management? How come they don’t put it to a vote, so the rest of us can have a say?”

“I didn’t realise it mattered that much to you. It’s ironic, though. The definition alone seems to have provoked anger, frustration, and outrage in you. It’s quite self-referential in a way.”

“True, true,” Mr Banks said, crumpling his paper and chucking it onto the fire. “And do you know what’s most irritating of all?”

“What?” his friend enquired.

Mr Banks rose abruptly, spilling his whisky. “I’ll tell you. It shouldn’t even qualify as ‘word’ of the year because ‘rage bait’ is actually two words – not one! How can the word of the year be two words?! Positively outrageous.”

He grabbed his coat and stormed out.