Language is always shifting but there are some phrases that need to be consigned to the bin - David Blunkett

Whatever the temptation, I am not going to write about Andy Burnham's first few weeks as Prime Minister. Instead, during the holiday month of August I thought I might reflect on the most irritating aspects of language in public life, and how absurdly detached it is from men and women throughout the country.

A lack of connectivity – which, sadly, is evident in politics generally and therefore the relationship between government and governed.

When I was in the Cabinet for eight years, I was on a mission. Yes, of course, to deliver fundamental change in the experience of children in school; their results and their chances in life. To introduce Sure Start and a comprehensive Early Years’ policy to give a flying start and the chance of equality to millions of youngsters. Yes, of course, to tackle youth unemployment and later, in the Home Office, the enormous issues of migration, crime and insecurity.

But to avoid all of this getting me down, I had another trick up my sleeve. This was to identify language which I would drive out of correspondence (we didn't have email then), official reports, and, above all, answers to invitations to attend and speak at events.

One word in question was ‘delighted’. Every time the Civil Service wrote a draft missive, saying ‘I will be delighted to come to your conference’ (and they almost did it by habit rather than design), I used to change ‘delighted’ to ‘pleased’ or ‘willing’. The latter was probably the most honest.

For the word ‘delighted’ is an entirely personal matter, and anyone who thinks that going to speak at an event, no matter how prestigious, constitutes ‘delight’, needs to get a life.

But I've noticed that words used 25 years ago, both in writing and in speeches, have re-emerged, but reinforced by time and usage.

Some of those words really do get up my nose. Some of them have started to be used by ministers, presumably inculcated into the language by those they're working with.

For instance, ‘we stand ready’, was a favourite with officials. I always thought that that meant that they weren't actually doing anything, but they got up in the morning and came into work, which was at least a plus.

But the one that has really re-emerged with reinforced vigour is ‘working at pace’. It appears all over the place, in Parliament, including in statements, written answers and speeches. Working ‘at pace’ is a euphemism for ‘we’re not entirely sure what we’re supposed to be doing, but we will do our best to do it at our usual speed’. The assumption that anything in recent years is being carried through ‘at pace’, makes me wince.

There are new entries into the lexicon of language not used by normal human beings. Some of them emerge from the US. For instance, the word ‘agency’ has recently emerged as a favourite. As far as I can see, this should mean self-determination or personal empowerment. Or what used to be described as having a stake in a project or society.

I've never heard anyone use that word ‘agency’ outside London, politics and the media. I may, of course, be out of touch. Perhaps ‘agency’ is a word that is used in pubs and clubs across the country and has passed me by. To be frank, if this is the case, I'm very grateful.

Then, there's another phrase that is now a favourite of one or two people in the political arena. I have no idea where this has come from, but I hope it goes back as soon as possible.

The words in question are: ‘hard yard’. The hard yard I understood when I was growing up was at the back of terraced houses, often with an outside loo and sometimes without even a fence between the backdoors.

These days, I think it means – but I'll be very happy to be corrected – the last few really difficult steps in carrying through a policy or delivering the programme. Again, I've never heard this phrase used outside the bubble of London.

I have no idea how these inserts into our dialogue reach the point where they become commonplace. I understood how the word ‘like’ inserted itself into the language of young people, now it's thankfully dying away. It was, again, because of American cultural influence and very poor teaching of oracy, the ability to communicate and the fall-back onto social media of a variety of outlets.

It has been argued that the American programme The Simpsons has been responsible for the speech problems of at least one generation of children, but it won't be alone.

Thankfully some of these phrases and inserts – which often mean absolutely nothing – do die away.

I was reminded of it recently on a very short visit with my wife and her family to Iceland.

We stood at the confluence of tectonic plates – the movement of the earth between two continents. I tried to crack a joke that if we built a hotel there it would undoubtedly be called 'The Intercontinental'. It fell on deaf ears.

It reminded me that when I was first in government, ‘tectonic plates’ suddenly emerged into political ‘inside speak’. Nobody knew what we were talking about, but it was supposed to convey something profound.

Like the earth's crust, our politics undergoes constant change.