Funny German words and expressions Topic is solved

[Chrisinom]

To start writing this, I had to overcome my weaker self - "den inneren Schweinehund überwinden". The term “innerer Schweinehund” describes—often as a reproach—the allegory of weakness of will that prevents a person from performing unpleasant activities, even though they are either considered ethically necessary (e.g., tackling problems, exposing oneself to danger, etc.) or seem sensible for the person in question (e.g., sticking to a diet). The allegory can thus be directly linked to motivation; it is also a metaphorical description of akrasia. Most of the time, people talk about overcoming their "inneren Schweinehund" to emphasize that it is not personal inclination that is decisive in completing a particular task, but self-discipline. This connection also suggests a view that ultimately everyone has a weaker self and that the flaw lies in giving in to this reluctance.
What is a “Schweinehund”? Contrary to what you might think, it is not a hybrid creature that is part dog and part pig. Instead, “Schweinehund” is derived from "Sauhunde" – dogs that were used in the past for hunting wild boar. As you can imagine, these were aggressive dogs. That is why the term “Schweinehund” was initially used as a swear word for a mean, aggressive person. “Schweinehund” is one of those words that was often used to describe Germans in old foreign films – schnitzel, sauerkraut, schweinehund and “Jawohl!” – and it's how you can recognize the unsympathetic Germans in old English films. So that was the first stage of the idiom: "Schweinehund" became a swear word for a nasty person.
In the second phase, it becomes the "innere Schweinehund". The image suggests that we all have nasty, base instincts within us. One of the earliest references to this expression is a speech by SPD member of parliament Kurt Schumacher. On February 23, 1932, one year before Hitler seized power, Schumacher attacked the National Socialists. He accused them of appealing to people's base instincts with their aggressive propaganda, or as he put it: “All National Socialist agitation is a constant appeal to the "inneren Schweinehund" in people.”
In June of the same year, the expression was heard in a radio address by Reich Minister of Defense Kurt von Schleicher. Schleicher was not affiliated with any party, but sympathized with the SA and shared Hitler's views on the Wehrmacht and its soldiers. In this address, he said, among other things: "I am so often told that this passion for being drilled (...) is unworthy of me. To that I can only reply that people who do not understand this do not know the elation of young men who have achieved something extraordinary with their bodies and, for the first time in their lives, have completely conquered their "inneren Schweinehund".
This brings us to stage 3: the idea that our "innerer Schweinehund" must be “überwunden”. This image fits in well with the times, as theories by a certain Sigmund Freud were circulating at the time, according to which we have inner drives that can conflict with our higher goals and values. The “innere Schweinehund"” takes up these ideas, but also caricatures them a little. Defeating the "Schweinehund" was initially considered a military virtue. After the war, the expression “den inneren Schweinehund überwinden” stuck and was detached from its military context. In today's language, the inner pig is no longer nasty and aggressive, but rather lies lazily and comfortably on the sofa, nibbling on unhealthy snacks and giving paw ("Pfötchen geben").

[Chrisinom]

frmdschämen
"Ein Karneval des Fremdschämens" (a carnival of vicarious embarrassmen) - that's what the New York Times commented on FIFA President Gianni Infantino praising Donald Trump, suggesting he'd award him a "Peace Prize" at the Soccer World Cup draw. "Fremdschämen" has become a quite frequently used German word after it was included in the Duden dictionary for the first time in 2009. Young people use the English verb “cringe” for this. "Cringe" is particularly popular on the internet. In 2020, it came second in the vote for the German “Youth Word of the Year,” organized by a dictionary publisher.
Behind the phenomenon of “Fremdschämen” lies a process of empathy in which person A feels embarrassed on behalf of another person, B. Person B is unaware of the embarrassing situation, but person A is well aware of it. Due to this embarrassment for the situation in which person B finds themselves unaware, person A feels ashamed on their behalf. The act of vicarious embarrassment should not be viewed as an altruistic act. Instead, person A feels involuntarily ashamed, as such situations usually fall outside the social norm, which is what triggers the vicarious embarrassment.
Empathy and a certain degree of identification are the two factors that promote "Fremdschämen". If these are lacking, a different feeling arises: Schadenfreude. Although we perceive that the other person is behaving embarrassingly in some way, we tend to find the whole thing rather funny. According to scientists, however, whether a situation triggers Schadenfreude or Fremdschämen in us always depends on our mood on that particular day.
“Fremdschämen” is both a verb and a noun. According to Duden, there are two possible variants when using the word as a verb: Sie schämt sich fremd or sie fremdschämt sich.

[Chrisinom]

radebrechen
"Deutsche Sprache schwere Sprache" - It is common knowledge that German is a difficult language. That is why many German learners speak it with difficulty and imperfectly. They "radebrechen" German. The word component “brechen” is contained in the English “broken German.” “Radebrechen” is a strange word, if only because of its grammar. Although the base word "brechen" is strongly inflected, i.e. irregularly inflected (brechen, brach, habe gebrochen), “radebrechen” is inflected according to the weak, i.e. regular, pattern ("radebrechen, radebrechte, habe geradebrecht"). So even in the second person, you don't say "du radebrichst", but rather "du radebrechst".
This word is not directly related to the verb "brechen" (to break), but is derived from the noun "Rad(e)breche", which is no longer in use: hence the weak inflection. Originally, "radebrechen" was a legal term and meant something like “breaking on the wheel.” This form of execution consisted of breaking the bones with a large, heavy cartwheel, which the executioner dropped onto the limbs of the condemned person. Subsequently, the person who had been tortured in this way, whether already dead or still alive, was woven between the spokes of another wheel, which was possible due to the broken limbs. It was a cruel procedure reserved for highway robbers, murderers, and arsonists, and was called "Rad(e)breche" (breaking with the wheel), from which the verb "rad(e)brechen" was derived.
The last execution by breaking wheel took place in Prussia in 1841. Today, the verb "radebrechen" is fortunately only used in the figurative sense. The idea that vocabulary and grammar can be "tortured" can be found in the English translations "to butcher / murder / mangle" a language as well as in the French expression "écorcher (peel, scrape off) une langue". Italian verbs such as “cinguettare” (to tweet, twitter) and "masticare (to chew) una lingua" or the idiom "parlare un tedesco maccheronico" are significantly less martial, although the image of chewing has something destructive about it.

[MoniqueMaRie]

radebrechen
The idea that vocabulary and grammar can be "tortured" can be found in the English translations "to butcher / murder / mangle" a language as well as in the French expression "écorcher (peel, scrape off) une langue". Italian verbs such as “cinguettare” (to tweet, twitter) and "masticare (to chew) una lingua" or the idiom "parlare un tedesco maccheronico" are significantly less martial, although the image of chewing has something destructive about it.

"Radebrechen" is probably a good description for my Italian now.
My Polish is still so bad that I cannot torture the language because nothing comes out of my mouth in presence of Polish people.

Interestingly, I'd use the word "Radebrechen" only for languages I try to speak at least a little, for languages I already partially know and use.

"Radebrechen" was me in France some years ago and now it's me trying to speak Italian (or Chinese).
"Radebrechen" is stopping in midsentence because you don't find a word (perhaps even to look at a dictionary in midsentence).

My "Radebrechen" is probably a real torture for those who are polite enough to listen to me.

[Chrisinom]

Katerfrühstück
Another word that does not have correspondent terms in other languages. A "Katerfrühstück" is not a morning meal for a male cat; and you don't cure a tomcat with a "Katerfrühstück" . According to the dictionary, a "Katerfrühstück" "is a hearty little meal, usually consisting of pickled herring and pickled gherkins (for breakfast), which is supposed to relieve headaches and other after-effects of excessive alcohol consumption.
Kater doesn't just mean 'hangover', but also refers to the poor physical and mental state after (excessive) alcohol consumption: you can have a Kater, wake up with a terrible Kater, or even take your Kater for a walk (jokingly: "try to improve your condition by taking a walk in the fresh air") . However, Kater can also be used without reference to previous alcohol consumption: in his novel "Mein Name sei Gantenbein" (1964), author Max Frisch uses Kater to refer to someone's despondency caused by a guilty conscience. The well-known "Muskelkater" , a pulling pain in the muscles that can occur after physical exertion, also has nothing to do with alcohol.
But how does all this relate to male cats? The answer is simple: it doesn't. Once again, we are dealing with the phenomenon of homonymy (identical expressions) of different words. Kater, in the sense used here, has a completely different origin from the word for the feline animal: it comes from the Greek katarrh (inflammation of the mucous membranes, often of the respiratory organs, associated with increased secretion of watery or mucous discharge). It was probably ironically Germanized in the student slang of the 19th century.

[Vlot Vlaams]

radebrechen

It seems that some other EU languages come very close to express the same concept

French: baragouiner = Parler mal (une langue).
Spanish: chapurrear / chapurrar = Hablar una lengua con dificultad y cometiendo errores.

Several languages use metaphors of breaking, scratching, maiming, or stumbling -
= all kinds of signs of not being sure what or how to say.

[Chrisinom]

Kauderwelsch
This is a fine example of "radebrechen". By the way: This linguistic magician was prime minister of the federal state where Mercedes and Porsche are based, and then became a member of the European Commission on the strength of his foreign language skills.
That sort of language is called "Kauderwelsch" in German. It's a colloquial term for confused or incomprehensible language or expression. The word is particularly often used in reference to the language of little children. However, it is also frequently used sarcastically to describe technical texts that are difficult to understand, for example. In addition, "Kauderwelsch" is often used when someone mixes elements from several languages, like Herr Öttinger does. Since it is neuter, the correct article is "das."
Common word combinations are "Kauderwelsch reden", "Kauderwelsch sprechen", and "Kauderwelsch (nicht) verstehen".
The first evidence of the colloquial term dates back to the 16th century. The origin of the second part of the word ("Welsch") can be traced back to Middle High German. The Middle High German adjective "welsch" was a term used to describe Romance languages. However, the term was often used more generally to refer to foreign languages or languages that were not understood. The origin of the first part of the word ("kauder") is not entirely clear. There are several plausible theories about this.
According to one theory, "kauder" originates from the Swiss town of Chur in Graubünden. In Upper German, this town is also called "Kauer." Since the Romansh language spoken there was once considered difficult to understand, it has been colloquially referred to as "Churwelsch" or "Kaurerwelsch" since Early New High German. According to another theory, 'kauder' derives from the term 'Kauderer', which referred to middlemen. 'Kauderwelsch' would then refer to the (mixed) language of traveling merchants. Kauder could also derive from the Upper German verb "kaudern," which means to babble or speak indistinctly. This verb was probably derived from "kollern" , which describes the gurgling sounds made by turkeys.

[Vlot Vlaams]

Kauderwelsch

In Flemish it's called "kauterwaals"/"kouterwaals"/"koeterwaals"

• kauten = to talk, idiomatic language
• waals = a sometimes very strange sounding variant of French

But "kouter" is also an aggricultural (open) field.
Areas or streets in cities may refer to the former open landscape there, now fully built on.
So it may refer to paysants living there, who's language was less sopisticated.

He speaks "koeterwaals" = he's just brabbling, in trouble saying anything worthwile listening to.

This example above is really ashaming.
A man probably better with his elbows than with the tongue (will we ever know?)

But it also illustrates that the habit - by the German Media - of audio-dubbing everything from original languae into German spoken, is VERY BAD. The modal German will, that way, never get the right tone in another language. (okay, exceptions exist, but only if they watch also non-German media)

A counter-example: Queen Maxima of Holland learned almost fluent Dutch in just 6 months.

EU employee salaries vary significantly by role (Assistant, Administrator, etc.) and grade, with entry-level officials starting around €3,000-€5,000/month (net) and progressing to €10,000-€16,000+ for senior roles, plus allowances, tax exemptions (national), and significant social benefits, making them competitive with national averages in many EU countries. For example, an Assistant (AST 3) might earn around €3,700 net, while an Administrator (AD 5) starts at about €4,700 net, with these figures increasing with seniority and function.

[Chrisinom]

Etepetete
At first glance, it's a funny word in two ways: Funny (strange) because you don't recognize it as a compound or derivative of other words. And it's funny (haha) because it sounds funny with all those vowels. “Etepetete” is an old saying that is mainly known in northern Germany and Vienna. However, it is no longer used very often today. The colloquial expression “etepetete” refers to affected, fussy, or overly refined behavior. In everyday life, the word is usually used pejoratively to comment on undesirable behavior: "Der ist immer so etepetete, der soll sich mal locker machen!" (He's always so etepetete, he should relax a bit!) However, “etepetete” can also be used with a wink to humorously point out someone's behavior: "Du bist so etepetete, du würdest sogar Pommes mit Messer und Gabel essen." (You're so etepetete, you'd even eat French fries with a knife and fork). People who are "etepetete" are often perceived as very stiff and pedantic: "Er ist immer so geschniegelt und ordentlich und hat ständig Angst, sich schmutzig zu machen. Wie kann man nur so etepetete sein?" (He's always so spiffy and neat and constantly afraid of getting dirty. How can anyone be so etepetete?" However, “etepetete” does not necessarily refer to people. The word can also be used to describe an environment that is perceived as overly refined, formal, or stiff: "Das Restaurant ist mir zu etepetete. Ich würde lieber gemütlich einen Burger essen gehen." (The restaurant is too etepetete for me. I'd rather go out for a casual burger). Etepetete is considered an adjective, at least according to Duden. However, this assessment is by no means unproblematic, as the word lacks two characteristics that usually distinguish adjectives: It does not have comparative forms and it cannot be placed in front of a noun in its inflected form (Großmutter ist etepetete is grammatically correct, but not: Tante Hildegard ist noch etepeteter, nor: meine etepetete Großmutter und ihre noch etepetetere Schwester Hildegard).
The origin of "etepetete" is also unclear. Two possibilities can be found in literature. Küpper's dictionary of German colloquial language suggests that it is derived from the Low German "ete" (also öte or öde, meaning "overly refined"): a “humorous play on words through doubling.” Röhrich's Lexikon der sprichwörtlichen Redensarten (Encyclopedia of Proverbial Sayings) agrees: "Etepetete is a pun formed from the root word öte, ete, which is particularly well known in the northern part of the German-speaking region. The noun Ötigkeit, derived from it in Mecklenburg, means affected behavior. Similar formations through the doubling of one or more syllables can be found in eiapopeia, holterdipolter, rumsdibums, etc." The Duden dictionary cites another possibility, namely a basis in the French être, peut-être (‘[may] be, perhaps’). Symbolically, this means something like “more appearance than substance” or “being in doubt.”
As you can see, the French saying mentioned above has little in common with the modern meaning of “etepetete.” But even in German, the word had a different meaning at first: “Etepetete” stood for reserved, thoughtful behavior. So it wasn't negative. It was only later that the word began to be used more frequently to describe people who seem somewhat affected or picky due to their reserve.
“Etepetete” is also the title of an album and a song by Pe Werner. The term is often used to describe her music—a mixture of sophisticated lyrics and idiosyncratic, sometimes delicately elegant presentation.

Lyrics: https://genius.com/Pe-werner-etepetete-lyrics

[Vlot Vlaams]

Russchises Brot

(Basiert auf wahren Begebenheiten – soweit sich das sagen lässt.)

1. Das erste Krümeln

Als Anna im Herbst 1927 das erste Mal den Duft von frisch gebackenem Russischen Brot im Hof ihres Berliner Mietshauses wahrnahm, wusste sie nicht, dass dieses Gebäck bereits eine kleine Reise hinter sich hatte. Die kleinen, knusprigen Kekse mit den Buchstaben-Aufdrucken stammten aus einer Bäckerei, die neue Rezepte ausprobierte – inspiriert von fernen Ländern und exotischen Namen.

2. Ein Name voller Fantasie

„Russisches Brot“, so erklärte der Bäckermeister stolz, „weil es so fern klingt und gleichzeitig so heimisch schmeckt.“ Der Name war weniger geografisch gemeint als vielmehr ein Ausdruck von Abenteuerlust in einer Zeit, in der Exotik in den europäischen Metropolen Mode war. Niemand wusste so recht, ob das Rezept wirklich aus Russland stammte – und das war auch egal.

3. Buchstaben tanzen im Ofen

Die Besonderheit dieser Kekse waren die kleinen Buchstaben, die im Teig eingebettet wurden. Anna beobachtete, wie die Lehrbuben die Plättchen auf den Teig drückten, bevor sie das Blech in den Ofen schoben. Die Buchstaben standen für das Alphabet, aber auch für Kindheitserinnerungen, für Wörter, die gebacken und dann gelöffelt wurden.

4. Durch Kriege und Frieden

Im Zweiten Weltkrieg änderte sich vieles – auch die Backstuben. Zucker wurde knapp, Zutaten rationiert. Doch das Russische Brot überstand die Zeiten, weil es schlicht und sparsam war. Geteilt wurde der kümmerliche Vorrat wie Brot selbst: gerecht, liebevoll, manchmal zum ersten Lächeln an einem harten Tag.

5. Nachkriegszeit – Süßes als Hoffnung

In den 1950er Jahren begann die Nachkriegszeit auch kulinarisch neu. Russische Brot-Kekse galten als kleiner Luxus. In West- und Ostdeutschland fanden sie ihre Wege in Keksdosen und Schultüten gleichermaßen. In manchen Familien schrieb man sogar Botschaften in den Teig, bevor man ihn buk – ein heimliches Liebesalphabet.

6. Literatur in Krümeln

In einem kleinen Roman der späten 1970er Jahre spielt ein Keks namens „Russisches Brot“ eine überraschende Rolle: Er wird zur Metapher für das Leben der Protagonistin, die zwischen Erinnerungen und Hoffnungen pendelt. Die Autorin beschrieb, wie die Buchstaben auf der Zunge Wörter formten, die nie ausgesprochen wurden, als sei jedes Krümelchen ein Versprechen.

7. Kino und Kunst

Regisseure entdeckten das Gebäck als visuelles Symbol. In einem Independent-Film aus den 1990er Jahren nutzt eine Figur das Russische Brot als Kommunikationsmittel: Sie hinterlässt Buchstaben auf einem Tisch, die zusammengesetzt eine Botschaft ergeben. Die Kamera verharrt auf den Krümeln, als wären sie bedeutender als Worte selbst.

8. Die Chemie des Geschmacks

Währenddessen in der realen Welt: Bäcker und Konditoren analysierten die perfekte Kruste, die zarte Süße und das spezifische „Knacken“ beim Biss. Eine Mischung aus Mehl, Zucker, Fett und Backtriebmittel, die durch ihre geringe Masse und große Oberfläche im Ofen besonders rasch karamellisiert – und so den typischen Geschmack schafft.

9. Tradition und Wandel

Heute backen Familien das Russische Brot nicht nur aus Tradition, sondern als kreatives Projekt: Glutenfreie Varianten, vegane Rezepturen, bunte Buchstaben aus verschiedenen Mehlsorten. In sozialen Medien teilen Menschen ihre Fotos von kunstvoll arrangierten Keksen, die längst weit mehr sind als nur Süßgebäck.

10. Am Ende ein Lächeln

Anna, inzwischen mit silbernem Haar und wachen Augen, denkt oft an die erste Bäckerei zurück. Sie hält ein paar der alten Rezepte in den Händen, sorgfältig aufbewahrt. Für sie sind diese Kekse mehr als Gebäck – sie sind Geschichte, Erinnerung und Wort zugleich. Das Russische Brot hat über Generationen hinweg Brücken gebaut: zwischen Menschen, Zeiten und Geschichten.

Der verlorene Buchstabe

Das ß gehörte nie zu den Buchstaben des Russischen Brots. Nicht, weil man es vergessen hatte, sondern weil es unpraktisch war. Beim Backen brauchte man klare, stabile Formen, und dafür nahm man einfach A bis Z. Das ß passte nicht gut hinein: Es ließ sich nicht groß schreiben und wurde im Alltag oft durch „ss“ ersetzt.

So fehlte es auch im Gebäck. Kinder merkten das, wenn sie Wörter legten und statt eines ß zwei s benutzen mussten. Die Sprache passte sich an, wie der Teig im Ofen. Das ß verschwand nie ganz, aber im Russischen Brot blieb es unsichtbar – ein Buchstabe, der zur Sprache gehört, aber nicht auf den Tisch kam.

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Nic Nacs – Buchstaben für Kinder (u. a.)

In Belgien, aber auch darüber hinaus, gibt es Letterbuchstaben entweder als Partysnack oder als süßes Gebäck, das man typischerweise zu Sinterklaas für Kinder kauft. Es gibt sie auch ohne Buchstaben, dann sind sie gezuckert und mit farbigen, patisserieähnlichen Kügelchen bestreut.

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Nic Nac „Minty“ Lutschtabletten (Lozenges)

Nicht für Kinder.

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Ein Buch

[Juannnn]

Hi! I’ve recently found some funny German expressions and I’m really curious about their meanings. For example, what do words like “Kummerspeck” or “Backpfeifengesicht” actually mean? They sound really strange and funny in English. Could someone explain their meanings and maybe give an example of how they are used?

[Vlot Vlaams]

Hi! I’ve recently found some funny German expressions and I’m really curious about their meanings. For example, what do words like “Kummerspeck” or “Backpfeifengesicht” actually mean? They sound really strange and funny in English. Could someone explain their meanings and maybe give an example of how they are used?

Sure "we" can

Kummerspeck

means

“the extra weight gained from eating your feelings.”
the weight you gain from emotional eating,
especially after stress, heartbreak, grief, or loneliness.

It’s empathetic rather than judgmental:

• the fat isn’t laziness
• it’s grief made visible

It's

• Not medical
• Not insulting
• Mildly humorous, gently sad

==> Kummerspeck is a German word that literally translates to "grief bacon" and refers to the excess weight gained from emotional overeating due to sadness, stress, or unhappiness, effectively describing the physical manifestation of "sorrow fat" or "worry fat" from stress eating. It's the extra padding you get from eating too much to cope with emotional distress, like heartbreak or trouble, rather than physical hunger.

Kummer (grief/sorrow) + Speck (bacon/fat): The word combines "Kummer" (grief, sorrow, trouble) with "Speck" (bacon, often used colloquially for fat or a layer of fat).

Emotional Eating: It's the result of using food to self-soothe or numb pain, a common human behavior when dealing with difficult emotions.

Not Judgmental: Unlike some terms for comfort eating, Kummerspeck is seen as a gentle way to describe the physical outcome of carrying emotional burdens, with the implication that the weight will disappear once the emotional pain lessens.

usage cases

• Informal, often self-deprecating
• Usually about oneself, not cruelly about others
• Acknowledges the emotional cause, not just the physical result

As in

Nach der Trennung habe ich etwas Kummerspeck bekommen.
“After the breakup, I put on some comfort-eating weight.”

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P.S.: “Speck” refers to specific parts of an animal where a layer of fat acts as an energy reserve during times of scarce food. Fat also carries most of the flavor, which is why marbled meat—with those white veins running through it—is considered some of the best you can buy.

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Backpfeifengesicht

is a (not so nice, I think) German word describing a face that looks like it's asking for a slap or punch, often used for someone obnoxious, annoying, or with an irritatingly smug expression.
It literally translates to "slap-cheek-face" (Backpfeife meaning "slap" and Gesicht meaning "face") and points to a person whose appearance or behavior makes you want to hit them, though it's often used humorously or to express extreme annoyance.

Der Begriff Backpfeifengesicht ist eine informelle, oft scherzhaft oder beleidigend gebrauchte Bezeichnung für eine Person, deren Gesichtszüge oder Ausdruck bei anderen den (metaphorischen) Impuls auslösen, ihr eine Ohrfeige (Backpfeife) zu geben.

Es wird oft verwendet, um eine instinktive Abneigung gegen eine Person auszudrücken, ohne dass diese unbedingt etwas Konkretes getan haben muss.

Backe (the key word)

In modern German:
die Backe = cheek (the soft, fleshy part of the face)
Think: the part you slap

So:
eine Backpfeife = a slap on the cheek
not the jawbone. This matches the gesture perfectly.

Key aspects:

Meaning: A face that begs for a slap or punch.
Usage: Describes someone extremely annoying, smug, or whose face just rubs you the wrong way.
Origin: Comes from Backpfeife (slap) and Gesicht (face).

Example: "That politician has a real Backpfeifengesicht."

the word implies:

• a humiliating slap
• not a violent punch
• social insult rather than physical assault

That’s why Backpfeifengesicht feels:

• comic
• expressive
• insulting but not murderous

Although ... don't you think that some politicians really merit a real one so they do again what real people want.
And some people simply convert feelings into action, and every now and then a politician, or some other speaker, is hit with a cream cake

==> Sein Backpfeifengesicht hätte eigentlich eine ordentliche Ohrfeige verdient, aber die Demonstranten haben ihn stattdessen mit einer richtigen Schaumtorte traktiert.

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Discover more "untranslatable" German Words

https://blogs.transparent.com/german/un ... engesicht/