“Evil ferret king,” however, is quite believable.

Dear Word Detective: When I was a young sprog, I was a great fan of Brian Jacques’ Redwall novels, and some of the characters frequently used the word “fizzer,” which seemed to designate some kind of military discipline. I haven’t been able to find a clear definition for it anywhere, nor have I been able to illuminate the mystery of its origin. So, please relieve my mind. What is a “fizzer”? — Elizabeth Lightwood.

Mousies and bunnies and hedgehogs, oh my! To be honest, I had never heard of Brian Jacques until I read your question, but I have since learned that he is a very popular UK children’s author whose stories are set in the English countryside and populated by a wide range of anthropomorphic critters. I’ve always been a sucker for talking hedgehogs, but, judging by the publisher’s summaries (e.g., “Enslaved by the evil ferret King Agarnu of Riftgard, and his cruel daughter, Kurda, the brave squirrelmaid Triss plans a daring escape by sea”), I think I’ll have to pass on these books. I read that passage an hour ago and I’m still trying to get the image of a squirrel in a dress in a rowboat out of my mind.

Before we proceed, I am legally required to explain that “sprog” is British slang for a young child. “Sprog” first appeared as British armed services slang for a new recruit during World War II, and appears to be rooted in the old English dialect word “sprag,” which meant both “a lively young fellow” and “a young salmon.” Unfortunately, no one knows the origins of “sprag.”

“Fizzer” in its most basic sense means “something that fizzes,” the word “fizz” being an “echoic” word meant to duplicate the sound of something hissing and sputtering. As slang, “fizz” most often figuratively invokes either effervescing (“sparkling”) drinks such as champagne or firecrackers that fail to explode (and only “fizz”). The “effervescent” or “sparkling” sense of “fizz” produced “fizzer” as slang for “anything excellent or first-rate” in the mid 19th century (“If the mare was such a fizzer why did you sell her?” 1866), as well as “fizzer” as a term for a fast ball in the game of cricket.

The use of “fizzer” as British military slang meaning “roster of men to be disciplined” is a small mystery. The great British etymologist of slang Eric Partridge suggested that it may have come from the earlier use of “fizzer” to mean “military parade ground,” a usage which may have referred to the need for troops to practice their marching drills until they were perfect and “fizzed.” You’ll notice that there are two “mays” in that sentence, but it seems plausible to me.

Whatever the logic of terming a parade ground a “fizzer,” the use of the word to mean “punishment list” is clear. One of the most common methods of disciplining soldiers is to force them to practice marching drills for hours on end. So to be “put on the fizzer” meant that you were in trouble and probably in for a hard time (“I got back after … twelve, and they shoved me on the fizzer!” T.E. Lawrence, 1935).

According to Partridge, the phrase “on the fizzer” eventually percolated out of the armed services and was used in civilian life to mean “in trouble with the boss,” but it doesn’t seem to be very common.

Lather, rinse, revulsion.

Dear Word Detective:  My sister recently recommended to me a product that has to be in the running for the worst product name of all time — “No-Poo,” a chemical-free shampoo.  Contemplating the name got me to thinking about the origin of the word “shampoo.”  According to the Oxford English Dictionary, the word comes from the Hindi for “to press,” but that hardly explains how such an odd-sounding word came to be used for such an everyday item.  Can you please elucidate? — Jackie.

Well, there you go.  Who needs CNN?  All I have to do is read my email and I learn all sorts of things I’d never have otherwise known about.  I just Googled “no-poo” and discovered that there is, evidently, a widespread semi-underground “no poo” movement to eschew shampoo, promoted by people who believe that the chemicals in commercial shampoos are harmful to both your scalp and the planet.  The most popular substitute for shampoo seems to be a concoction made with baking soda and vinegar, and the commercial “No Poo” product your sister endorsed is probably a variant on that mixture.  I’d give no-pooing a shot myself, but I’m a bit put off by this warning from MSNBC:  “In the beginning stages of a no-poo experiment, most people seem to go through a two- to six-week period when their hair looks like, well, poo.”  After that, presumably, your hair looks great but your friends are hiding from you.  Maybe I’ll just shave my head.

It is true that the root of our modern “shampoo” is the Hindi word “campo” (or “champo”) which is the imperative form of the verb “campna” (or “champna”), meaning “to press.”  As far as we know, the word “shampoo” first appeared in print in English in 1762, and the tone of that first use is interesting: “Had I not seen several China merchants shampooed before me, I should have been apprehensive of danger.”  The reason the writer was somewhat anxious is that the original “shampoo” involved much more than the hair.  It was a full-body deep massage, apparently involving quite forceful rubbing and kneading of the limbs and torso (thus the relevance of “to press”), administered as part of the standard Turkish bath routine.  Only at the end of the process was the shampoo-ee’s hair washed.

The word “shampoo” was brought back to England in accounts of British colonial life in India, but the custom of beginning one’s day with a full “shampoo” was understandably a non-starter in Britain.  So by the early 19th century “shampoo” had been narrowed to its current modern senses of simply “the act of washing the hair with a cleaning agent” or “the soap, etc., used to clean one’s hair.”

Interestingly, there was an earlier (but now obsolete) term in English, a bit closer transliteration of the original Hindi “champo,” which was “champing,” meaning the whole full-body “shampoo.”  The earliest use of this term found so far in print, from 1698, mentions a mechanical massage apparatus noted by Western travelers in China: “A kind of Instrument, called, in China, a Champing Instrument.  Its use is to be [rubbed] or [rolled] over the Muscular Flesh.”  The term “champing” may be gone, but I believe the same sort of gizmo can still be seen today in late-night TV infomercials.