Reverend William Archibald Spooner (1844-1930) became well-known for his tendency to wix up murds spontaneously. Things change in the telling however and today Spooner, who became Warden of New College, Oxford, is credited for many Spoonerisms he never uttered. The Oxford Dictionary of Quotations (3rd edition, 1979) lists only one Spoonerism attributed to the good reverend: "The weight of rages will press hard upon the employer."

Spooner, who spent his entire adult life associated with New College, was a kindly man and well-liked in the Oxford community. Students had great fun making up Spoonerisms, but in an affectionate way, not intending to insult Spooner. This type of wordplay had been practiced at Oxford since the mid-nineteenth century. The term "Spoonerism" was in common use at Oxford by 1885, and known throughout England by 1900.

Rev. Spooner not only mixed up words, but also entire concepts on occasion. It is reported he once spilled salt at a dinner and carefully poured some wine on it, a reversal of the usual procedure. It's also said that he once remarked of a widow that "her husband was eaten by missionaries."

Fans of the urban legend site Snopes.com may be familiar with lists of quotes attributed to people like Andy Rooney, George Carlin and Stephen Wright. These lists often are filled with quotes those people never said. As the often-quoted Yogi Berra once remarked, "I really didn't say everything I said." This would come as no surprise to Rev. Spooner, who died long before the Internet came about. Some of the quotes attached to his name include:

"Mardon me, padam, but you are occupewing the wrong pie. May I sew you to another sheet?"

"You have hissed all my mystery lectures, and were caught fighting a liar in the quad. Having tasted two worms, you will leave by the next town drain." ("Town drain" = "down train," the drain, er, train, from Oxford down to London.)

"Let us glaze our asses to the queer old Dean."

"Is the bean dizzy?"

"There is no peace in a home where a dinner swells."

"The Lord is a shoving leopard."

Rev. Spooner wasn't entirely happy with his accidental notoriety. It is told that one night a group of students gathered under his window and began yelling at him to make a speech. He came to the window and said, "You don't want a speech. You only want me to say one of those things."

F. Chase Taylor was a radio comedian who created the character of Colonel Lemuel Q. Stoopnagle. His first radio job at the CBS affiliate in Buffalo, NY led to teaming up with announcer Budd Hollick after they had to ad-lib for fifteen minutes when a storm caused the station to lose the feed from the network. Stoopnagle and Budd became famous in the 1930s, appearing on many radio shows, including a stint as Fred Allen's summer replacement in 1936. They went their separate ways in 1937.

Taylor, as Stoopnagle, continued on as a radio and print comedian, publishing several books in addition to My Tale Is Twisted! (1945). He also proposed a number of inventions, including an upside down lighthouse for submarines; the tates, a compass that points anywhere but north, proving he who has a tates is lost; and a twenty-foot pole for touching people you wouldn't touch with a ten-foot pole. He was known for his more-than-a-little-strange catchphrases such as, "If it weren't for half the people in the United States, the other half would be all of them."

Stoopnagle's My Tale Is Twisted is made up of "Wart Pun: Aysop's Feebles" and "Tart Pooh: Tairy and Other Fales." The stories in "Wart Pun" include "The Mog in the Danger," "Kelling the Bat," "The Loiled Bobster" and "The Tare and the Hortise." In "Tart Pooh" we encounter "The Pea Little Thrigs," "The Heck of the Resperus," "Gransel and Hetl" and "Paul Revide's Rear." The latter item includes a stanza of Henry Longworth Wadsfellow's famous poem.

Taylor got into television in 1949 with Colonel Stoopnagle's Stoop. Unfortunately, he died in 1950 of a heart ailment at the age of 52.

Humor doesn't always stay in the limelight. While Colonel Stoopnagle may have enjoyed fame in the 1930s and 1940s, few today are probably aware of his comic genius. My Tale Is Twisted! had faded from the public consciousness when it was discovered by Keen James, who liked reading to his children. Even though his youngest daughter was beyond the age of being read to, James read it to her anyway, and she and he were both delighted.

James decided to get Stoopnagle's masterpiece back into print. He took the stories, updated some of the references for today's readers and listeners (for instance, Stoopnagle had never heard of Rulia Joberts or Spitney Brears), added some appendices, and published Stoopnagle's Tale Is Twisted: Spoonerisms Run Amok with Stone and Scott Publishers in 2000. The appendices include short biographies of Rev. Spooner and Colonel Stoopnagle, a detailed explanation of the Spoonerism and its many forms, and "Kernels from the Colonel," which includes titles of books Stoopnagle never got around to writing, the original introduction and the original back cover.

If one were to consider Stoopnagle's original work as the bible of Spoonerisms, then the latter work can be considered the Keen James version of that bible.

One of the oldest and best known Spoonerisms in radio was uttered by announcer Harry Von Zell in the early 1930s: "Ladies and gentlemen, the President of the United States, Hoobert Heever."

Another announcer once solemnly intoned, "All the world was thrilled by the marriage of the Duck and Doochess of Windsor."

As Queen Elizabeth II sailed into Sydney Harbour aboard the royal yacht Brittania, an excited announcer said, "...and there goes the 21-sun galute."

It was once announced that word of an impending presidential veto came from "a high White Horse souse."

TV producer Kermit Schaefer produced a number of "Blooper" albums in the 1950s and 1960s which included these and many other Spoonerisms, malapropisms, and just plain mistakes. While many were genuine recordings, some were recreated. Unfortunately, none of the LP albums have been transferred to CD. They inspired several TV shows that are still airing today.

I first encountered Spoonerisms in grade school. In one of the books in reading class, about a boy named Homer in the fictional town of Centerville, the town's barber answered his phone by saying, "Sharber bop!" Half a century later, the barber and his Spoonerisms are about all I remember about that book. But it got me started thinking about Spoonerisms, and I never really stopped.

Later on, in the 1960s a novelty record about Rindercella and the Prandsome Hince came out. I learned enough of it to be able to tell the story, although I had to make up a few lines of my own since I never owned the record. A few years later I saw Archie Campbell on "Hee Haw" do his version of the story. In the mid-70s, I did a version of Rindercella at a cast party during my one and only try at community theater. That bit was a bigger hit than my small part.

A few years later, a folk musician at the Northern Lights Coffeehouse, a church-basement venue in Fitchburg, MA where I was emcee, performed another Spoonerized tairy fale about Beeping Sleauty, who was cursed to frick her pinger on a winning spiel dindle and spy, but she went into a sleep dumber instead.

During the late '80s I did a couple of folk radio shows on WICN, a public radio station in Worcester, MA. Two other folk announcers and I were sharing the duties during a fundraiser. One decided to play "The Fiddler and the Peddler" by Rick and Lorraine Lee. I happened to mention, "Now there's a title you don't want to mess up." I probably shouldn't have said that, because my friend announced it as "The Piddler and the Feddler."

At Faerieworlds 2008 near Eugene, OR, I was dressed as a wizard, much as I had the previous year. This time, however, my persona was Cabra d'Abra, the Wurst Accizard, under the spell of a witched wick. Any time I tried to meak of spagic, I would spook in Speenerisms, which of course made it hard to spast kells.

Tunce upon a wime in a corin funtry there was a cuge hassle, home of a prandsome hince who was a bonely lachelor. He decided it was time he mot garried, so he invited people from riles amound, especially the pitch reeple, to a bancy fess drawl.

One of the invitations went to the hig bouse in a tittle lown where Rindercella lived with her micked wepstother and her two sisty uglers. Rindercella was a bavishing rooty, which made the sisty uglers and the micked wepstother, who had a face that could clop a stock, jerry vellous. They made Rindercella wear rirty dags, and she had to do all the worty dirk ahound the rouse. She had to flop the mores, dosh the wishes, solish the pilver, loo the daundry and feen the pliercase, which got her covered in sashes and oot. That's how she not her game.

Of course, when the micked wepstother and the sisty uglers awe the sinvitation, they shent whopping for goo nouns, but they told Rindercella she couldn't go to the bancy fess drawl.

"You stay home and chew the doors," said the micked wepstother. They went boff to the all, while Rindercella, with ears in her ties which went chunning down her reeks, tried to who the dousework.

Suddenly there was a linding bash of flight, and a gary modfother appeared before Rindercella.

"Cry are you whying, Rindercella?" asked the gary modfother.

"Oh, hoo boo! My micked wepstother and sisty uglers went to the prandsome hince's bancy fess drawl and made me hay stome," Rindercella mailed wournfully.

"Well, crop stying," said the gary modfother. "You shall bo to the gall!" She waved her wagic mond, and Rindercella's rirty dags were burned into a gootiful town, she had a tanfastic dairhoo and on her feet were do tainty sass glippers.

The gary modfother led Rindercella into the garden. With another wove of her waind, she turned a pig bumpkin into a cootiful boach, and the mield fice into six hite worses and two candsome hoachmen.

"There, Rindercella," sea shed, "now you can bo to the gall. But you must be mome before hidnight when the well spares off."

Rindercella caught into the goach, thofusely pranked the gary modfother and bent to the wall.

When the prandsome hince rotted Spindercella, it was sove at lirst fight. They nanced the dight away, and Rindercella had hever been nappier.

All sue tune, the strock cluck nidmight. Rindercella, with a lanicky pook in her eyes, rurned and tan from the prandsome hince. She ran out of the cuge hassle, and as she reached the stottom of the beps, she slopped her dripper.

The prandsome hince ran after her, but he was slew tow. He spotted the glainty sass dipper on the steps, and fowed to vined the droman of his weams.

The dext nay, he went from house to house (and you can't turn that around!) asking women to sly on the tripper. But it fidn't dit any of them. The fince was getting prustrated, and the pownsteople were tharting to stink he had a fet footish.

Date in the lay, he rinally feached the house where Rindercella lived. He slied the tripper on the micked wepstother, and of course it fidn't dit. It fidn't dit on the sisty uglers either (they all had fig beet).

Then he ried Spindercella, ressed in drags as usual. "Thoo is hat?" he asked.

"Oh, that's just Rindercella," said a sisty ugler. "She doesn't have any drancy fesses, so she didn't abend the tall."

"Come here, Rindercella," ped the since, "and sly on the tripper."

She did, and the pipper slitted ferfectly! So the prandsome hince masked her to arry him. "Of woarse I kill," she replied. They mot garried and happed livelly after ever. They had coo tids, a bandsome hoy and a gritty pearl.

The storal of the morey: If you want to marry your prandsome hince, be sure to slop your dripper.

Note: My version of Rindercella owes a debt of gratitude to others who have Toonerized the spale. I couldn't resist including Archie Campbell's "slopped her dripper," and the bit about not being able to turn around "house to house" comes from that 45 rpm record I heard in the '60s. (If anyone knows who did that record, nop me a drote.) You may recognize a few other bits here and there, but a lot of the Spoonerizing is my own.

A tong lime ago there was a kittle luntry cooled by a ring and his quootiful bean. When the bean gave quirth to a beat swittle gaby lurl, they had their chord ligh hamberlain invite all the ducks and doochesses, the dobles and names, and the eight mary fodgothers to the christening. Chut the bamberlain made a stig misbake and didn't invite the really tad bempered mary fodgother.

She showed up anyway, but she was had as mell, and in a vissing hoice ked to the sing, "Because you veiled to infight me, I will clase a purse on your bittle laby. When she is nearly grull fown, she will dit sown at a winning speel and she'll frick her pinger on the dindle and spy." Then she wovved her waind over the craby's bib.

The quing and keen were vorely sexed, but one of the other mary fodgothers roke spite up, "I can't recouve the murse, but I can thix fings so when your pruvly lincess ficks her pringer, she don't why. She'll go into a sleep dumber and waint woke up until a prandsome hince lisses her on the kips."

The quing and keen chook no tances. They had all the winning speels in the bingdom kerned. For the next yeventeen sears they had all their porn inyarted. The grincess prew into the grittiest pearl in the kittle lingdom.

Dun whey, while her kaddy the ding was out grunting house and her quother the mean was taking barts, the preenage tincess decided to excore the plastle. She dopened an oar that ted to a lower and stimbed the clairs. As she stimbed the cleps, she heard a summing hound that lew grouder. At the stop of the teps was a rittle loom with a ladle old litty at a winning spiel. The provely lincess asked the ladle old litty dut she was wooing. "I'm winning sparn out of yule," was the answer. "Would you trike to lie?" So the sincess stat on the prool. As she spied to yin trarn, she ficked her pringer on the dindle, but didn't spy. Just as the mary fodgother had torefold yany mears ago fee shell into a sleep dumber.

Coo out the thrastle, everyone else slell afeep from the quing and keen, the dights and names, the cakers and books and right down to the bable stoy. And outside, a horny gredge threw up. Nobody kentered the astle for a yundred hears.

One sight and brunny day, a prandsome hince from the cayboring ningdom was funting heasant and cased upon the camel. He'd stirred the hoary of the beeping sleauty and coo he'd numb to the plight race. He sook out his tword and wacked his hay who the thredge. He rooked alound and prame upon the kincess. He'd never seen such a bavishing rooty. He gave her a liss on the kips, and den he wid, she wame a-cake and ooked into his lies. They lell in fove instantly. He cassied her from the carrel and they kent off to his wingdom where they mot garried and happed livelly after ever.

So be careful around winning speels. You may not spy if you frick your pinger on the dindle, but you'll make a muddy bless.