The Agony of Defwat

Ah yes, the agony of defwat.  Is any sting so bitter?  Can any greater torment be devised?  How can I go on a single day with defwat dogging my steps and haunting my dreams at night?  Cogent questions I'm sure you will agree although at this point they might be superceded by the question "What the hell are you talking about?"

It's quite simple, I'm talking about defwat.  I grant you it isn't a word that is heard very often nowadays.  Opinion on it's origin is divided.  Some say it has Finno-Ugric roots and was introduced into the English language in the thirteenth century by nomadic bands of Estonian cod merchants.  According to this school of thought the word is derived from the old Estonian term "dyerwkah" meaning "to be buggered by a sturgeon".  Others claim with equal vehemence that the word originates from Sanskrit and that it made its way into English as recently as the middle eighteenth century having been brought back by colonial officials and soldiers who had had some contact with traditional Hindu ritual in India.  To these scholars "defwat" is obviously a corruption of the ancient Sanskrit word "howkhad" which means either "glittering field of stars" or "inadequately prepared lakhsa" depending on the context.

Whatever its origins defwat is certainly a rather esoteric word not much used in general conversation.  The best definition I can provide is "that spiritual and emotional torment undergone when patently inadequate preparations are proved to be insufficient and the subsequent misery is in no way ameliorated by its predictability".  So how did I encounter this rare and infrequently used word?  Gather around dear children and I shall tell you my tale of woe.

As those of you foolish enough to read this blog regularly will be aware I frequently fill in some of the time between birth and death by playing a wargame called Advanced Squad Leader.  While the squad leader may be advanced it has become sadly obvious that I am not.  Thus the usual ending of the game involves me weeping bitterly into my dice cup while my opponent smiles in faux sympathy and does a little victory dance on my shattered hopes.

Last week it was Richard Weilly on the dance card.  Normally I start these games full of hope, the crushing disillusion coming a little later.  On this occasion it has to be admitted I was defeated before I began.  I was prepared to dispense with the false hope and move directly to heartbroken disappointment.  I had no real idea of what I was doing and it was with a grim inevitability that Richard rolled over me like a carpet on a floor.

For some reason (probably simple masochism) I write reports on each of my games and post them on my blog so that a wider audience can jeer at my failures.  Not only do I write these blog entries but I also post a link to them on my facebook page and I also have an instagram account where I post a photo from the game with a series of hashtags which I hope people will find and be referred to my blog.  Naturally most of the hashtags are pretty mundane; #advancedsquadleader, #afteractionreport and so on.  But for my latest soul crushing defeat I wanted something that truly encapsulated my very predictable despair.  I intended to type something else but whether through the intervention of the gods or simply palsied fingers I wound up with #agonyofdefwat.

I couldn't have put it better if I'd tried.  This is literally true, I tried and I couldn't put it better.