Italian language

Italian Slang and Swearwords

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Italian Slang Dictionary: intro A B C D E F G I L M N O P Q R S T U V X Z

Introduction to Italian Slang

If you’re planning to live or travel in Italy, you might find it helpful to know what people are saying – much of which is not in polite phrasebooks! And sometimes it helps to be able to fire a few juicy phrases of your own. Select a letter above to go to the page of Italian swearwords starting with that letter.

  • Subject to revision whenever the mood strikes me. If you have something you’d like to add or suggest or comment on, go here (where you can also see what others have suggested).
  • Most of this usage is not for polite company. For milder slang and idiom, see this page.
  • I live(d) in northern Italy, so the usage described here may be specific to northern Italy, particularly Milan and Lombardy, unless otherwise noted. Your mileage may vary. I left Italy in 2008, so my usage here may not be up to date, though some of these words and phrases are… timeless.
  • Here’s a video of some common Italian hand gestures (many of them rude, along with pronunciation of some of the phrases below).
  • Giovanna & Angiolino: a pop song (yes, it’s relevant)

A Note on Blasphemy

Some of these words and phrases fall into the category of bestemmie (blasphemy): taking the Lord’s (or Jesus’ or Mary’s) name in vain. Be aware that these may be considered particularly offensive by some people.

Other rude words are simply called parolacce – “bad words.”

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Italian language

Talking Back to Politicians: A Lesson in Modern Italian

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^ top: “More taxes on your savings? No, thanks!” To which someone has responded: “What savings?”

Italy doesn’t yet have a large enough Internet population to spawn interesting multimedia political parodists like JibJab. But citizens nonetheless find ways of talking back to their politicians…

Note: All these pictures were posted by readers on the site of Il Corriere della Sera (under “Elaborazioni fotografiche”).

Forza Italia (Berlusconi’s party) have done a series of posters with the theme “No, Grazie” (No, thanks) about all the terrible things that will supposedly happen if the left is elected.

^ Same original poster, this time with the response: So’ finiti, Roman dialect for “Sono finiti” – they [the savings] are finished (used up).

^ “More taxes on your home? No, thanks.” “Let’s tax yours.”

Famo = Roman dialect for facciamo – let’s do it. Le tue [case] refers to Berlusconi’s homes. Homes plural – he has several. Not that this is unusual in Italy, but his are rather bigger than anybody else’s…

^ The original text reads: “Contract with the Italians. We are keeping all our promises!” Someone has inserted: “to our buddies.”

Final (original) line: “And we’re going ahead!”

^ The same poster, altered to read: “We’re eating everything – and we’ll continue!”

^ “Neighborhood police and carabinieri are now in every city” …and they still haven’t found you.”

^ This one originally read: “Let’s choose to go on/move ahead.”It now says: “Let’s choose to steal a lot.”

Forza Italia’s name is also a slogan, roughly translatable as “Let’s go, Italy!” (forza is what you say to urge on your sports team).

For this campaign they’ve turned it around so that it reads like an admonishment to a recalcitrant child: “Come on, Italy.” Or encouragement to someone very tired: “Come on, you can make it.”

With the added text, this translates as: “Hang in there, Italy – soon he’ll go home to Arcore.” (Arcore, near Milan, is the site of Berlusconi’s biggest villa.)

^ Casini, head of another party in Berlusconi’s coalition, claims [to have] a “A different idea.” Comment: “If only you had one.”

^ “More support for the family” …of Berlusconi.”

And, for the opposition, my personal favorite:

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Italian Surnames: The Funny, Surprising, and Just Plain Weird

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^above “Queen Hope, widow of Wells” – she lived a good long life!

Il Corriere della Sera reports today that Italy has the largest number of surnames in the world: 350,000. The ten commonest surnames cover only 1% of the population. And, with many surnames, you can also tell something about its origins by its ending.

Italian surnames are fascinating, and sometimes very funny. Some of the best don’t seem to have emigrated to the US, though Americans trying to pronounce their Italian surnames can also be funny. I met a photographer in Connecticutt with the wonderfully romantic surname “Mezzanotte” (Midnight). An Italian would pronounce this Med-za-NOT-tay, which also sounds lovely. He pronounced it Mezza-note, which doesn’t.

One of the most common surnames in Lombardy is Fumagalli, which translates literally as “smoke the chickens.” That is: blow smoke into the henhouse to stun them, so they don’t make noise while you’re carrying them away. I guess chicken thieving was common in Lombardy, hence the popular Italian saying, Conosco i miei polli (“I know my own chickens”), used when you can predict how someone will behave or react, because you know them so well.

Death announcements in Lecco. Note the surnames Turba (“disturbs”) and Barbagelata (“frozen beard”)

I can’t think of examples of names in America which have a funny meaning, although some non-English names sound funny or rude to an English speaker, such as the Jewish Lipschitz or Indian Dixit (pronounced Dickshit). In Italy, there are many names which sound funny or odd even to Italian speakers, and leave you wondering how somebody’s ancestor acquired it. Examples:

  • Squarcialupi – “squarciare” is to rip, with violence; “lupi” are wolves. Okay, the ancestor was a fierce hunter.
  • On the other hand, Cantalupi – “cantare” – to sing. Sings with wolves?
  • Pelagatti – “pelare” – to peel or skin, “gatti” …cats. Presumably this guy knew more than one way.
  • Pelaratti – same thing, but rats. Now why would you bother?

Then there are the surnames which Italians fervently wish they could change, and go to great lengths to do so (it’s not easy to change a name in Italy), such as Finocchio – “Fennel,” but it’s also common slang for gay. Most red-blooded Italian males don’t want this one!

A friend of ours once worked in the office in Rome where name changes are (rarely) approved. He told us the most egregious case he ever came across was the name “Ficarotta” – broken cunt. The change was allowed.

More Funny Italian Surnames

  • Malinconico – melancholy
  • Mezzasalma – half-cadaver
  • Tagliabue – ox-cutter (butcher, I suppose)
  • Bellagamba – beautiful leg (there was a famous cardinal of this name)
  • Caporaso – shaved head
  • Denaro – money – a Mafia family in the news!
  • Contestabile – debatable
  • Falaguerra – make war
    …but…
    Acquistapace – buy peace
  • Accusato – accused
  • Peccati – sins
  • Bonanno – buon anno – good year, or happy new year
  • Borriposi – buon riposi – good rests

^ This architect’s surname means “big tower”.

^ “Macelleria Pancioni” would be literally translated as “big bellies butcher,” though Pancioni is probably a family name.

Nov 23, 2003

Many Italian surnames are also common words, so the potential for comedy is enormous when juxtaposed with the person’s profession, residence, or spouse. One of the funniest books we own is Mal Cognome Mezzo Gaudio, by Antonio di Stefano. The title is a pun on the saying Mal commune mezzo gaudio (A shared sorrow is half a joy); cognome means surname. The book is a treasure trove of funny names and even funnier combinations. But he missed one of my old favorites, a shop near my in-laws’ place in Rome called Enoteca Bevilacqua – the Drinkwater Wineshop.

Another name that’s funny on its own is Cazzaniga. This Lombard name may not actually mean anything, but it sounds close to cazzo negro – black dick. So there’s a common joke about it: Cazzaniga? Che nome lungo. (“What a long name.”)

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^ I assume this optical shop is named for its owner, whose surname means a joke or a trick.

^ This shop owner’s surname means “millet bread”.

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Modern Italian Architecture: Long Past Its Glory Days

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Italy is justly renowned for many centuries and styles of stunning architecture. Unfortunately, all the good stuff is at least a century old. Before and after our move to Lecco in 2003 (initially into a rented apartment), we spent over a year looking for a home to buy. Much of what we saw was of recent construction (or still being built), and very disappointing – exterior styles ranged from boring to ugly.

At some point we thought, “Okay, never mind the outside, we’re not going to look at it from the outside much anyway, right?” But we were also baffled by some of the choices made about the insides. In our three-room apartment in Milan, built in the 1950s, each room was at least 3×4 meters (except the bathroom and kitchen). Which was a good thing, because each room had to be mult-purpose: one corner of our bedroom was my office, Enrico’s piano resided in Rossella‘s room, and the refrigerator was in the living room because the kitchen was too small to hold it.

Average room size has decreased over the decades. In the new places we looked at around Lecco, a so-called child’s room was barely large enough for a single bed and a small desk. This is certainly not enough living space for a teenager, and doesn’t seem to take into account the fact that Italian offspring routinely live at home til well into their 20s, or even later. Or is this a parents’ ploy to encourage the kids to leave home?

Some new homes inexplicably wasted stunning locations and views. Most of the townhouse-style condos we looked at were four stories tall, with a garage and family room on the bottom floor (partially built into a hillside), and a slope-ceilinged attic intended as a bedroom. The attic, being on top, would have the best views of the lake and mountains, but usually had only skylights – which give no view at all unless you open one up and poke your head out. (The exception was a top floor apartment that had been redone with great taste by a friend’s parents. They had cleverly placed the skylight so that, lying in bed, you would have a perfectly-framed view of the Medale, a sheer-cliffed mountain looming over Lecco.)

One still-being-built townhouse had a second-floor terrace with a lake view, accessed by a large sliding glass door. One would expect such a view to be enjoyed by a master bedroom or upstairs living room. But no: the terrace opened onto a hall that was too narrow to hold even a writing desk, while the bedrooms at each end were gloomy, with tiny windows. The man showing us the place was deeply offended when I suggested that this was a stupid arrangement; I’ll bet one of his relatives designed it.

And that’s part of the problem. There exists in Italy a professional class called geometra, who attended a professional secondary school to learn the rudiments of designing and constructing buildings, and are legally licensed to do so, for buildings of limited size and complexity; they’re cheaper to hire than real architects. Apparently the geometra courses do not mention aesthetics, a lack which shows in the houses they design: boxy and unimaginative at best, downright ugly at worst, so that “casa del geometra” has become an epithet for any dwelling that is unpleasant to look at.

In all our peregrinations we did see a few beautiful houses, probably designed by architects to the owners’ specifications. I loved some of these, but they weren’t for sale. After months of increasingly despairing searches, we saw a place that, though only four years old, was designed (I don’t know by whom) with intelligence and style: big windows and terraces to make the most of the view, including a huge dormer window in the attic room (mansarda), looking out on Lake Como and the surrounding mountains. We walked through the house for ten minutes, looked at each other, and said: “This is it.” And it is.

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Scenes from Italian Politics

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I was, unusually, in Milan yesterday (a Saturday), working at my office with Sean Carlos (who’s teaching me cool new website tricks, more on that later). We went out for lunch, and were just getting ready to leave the restaurant when three young guys came in, whom we noticed particularly because one had hair in dreadlocks down to his waist, the second had a nearly shaved head, while the third was normal-looking, at least as far as haircut goes. They asked the restaurant owner for plastic bags, apparently to carry their jackets and motorcycle helmets in. His attitude towards them was puzzling; all I could think was that he disliked being asked for bags when they hadn’t even bought anything.

We walked a couple of blocks to my usual coffee bar, where everybody seemed completely freaked out, looking out the windows nervously. The barista explained that there had been some kind of demonstration on Corso Buenos Aires, the big shopping street a few blocks away, and something had gone wrong – gunshots had been heard, and there were police helicopters hovering over the neighborhood.

When we went to take the metro to our respective destinations later that afternoon, there was an announcement that the trains were not stopping at the Porta Venezia and Palestro stations “for public security reasons.”

The evening news was full of it. A (legally-organized) parade was planned by the “Fiamma Tricolore” (Tricolor Flame), a neo-Fascist organization. This was considered by the extreme leftists to be a deliberate provocation, and may well have been, given that the Fiamma guys had to be forcibly dissuaded by the police from marching under banners with swastikas and other Fascist symbols – which are illegal to display in Italy. So the lefties organized an illegal (because no permission was applied for) counter-demonstration, which, although it took place hours before the Fiamme arrived, quickly turned to violent chaos. They torched cars and shops, and set off nailbombs and firebombs. The photos are horrific, considering that this is, for heaven’s sake, Milan!

The good citizens of Milan, in fact, were so angry that some demonstrators had to be rescued by the police to prevent them being lynched by local residents. Almost 50 demonstrators were arrested, and nine police injured, though thankfully none seriously.

I guess that, because no one got killed, it isn’t news – I can only find one reference in the press anywhere in the world outside of Italy, and that was in New Zealand – at least our friends in the Antipodes are paying attention.

It seems to be an Italian cultural trait to leap immediately to conspiracy theories, but in this case they may be right. We’re in the midst of a closely-fought and increasingly acrimonious election, in which it’s hard to tell which side is being more stupid. It is entirely possible that someone on the right hired provocateurs to ensure that the counter-demonstration got out of hand. It’s equally possible that the extreme leftists are stupid enough to do that on their own, without considering that they are losing votes for the left and playing into the hands of the right (with friends like these…).

The comedy of errors rolls on. After much discussion, Berlusconi and Prodi (the leader of the loose and fractious coalition of the left) finally agreed terms for an American-style TV debate, which will take place on Tuesday night (our beloved Montalbano got moved to Monday, otherwise the public would have faced a truly difficult choice).

Now that we are officially in campaign season, the rules on par condicio (equal access to the media) have set in, so Berlusconi’s access is theoretically limited. Today he wasted ten minutes of a 30-minute interview with TV journalist Lucia Annunziata, walking off the set because he didn’t like her questions. When he kept evading a straight answer, and she kept insisting on one, he said: “You are violent, you should be ashamed of yourself.” “You don’t know how to talk with journalists,” she snapped back.

Let’s see, what else… one minister in Berlusconi’s cabinet left office a couple of weeks ago after wearing on TV a t-shirt printed with some of the famously offensive Mohammed cartoons, provoking riots in Libya in which some demonstrators were killed by the police. This ex-minister may face charges under Article 404.

Then a few days ago the minister for health found himself under investigation for Watergate-like spying on political rivals. He proclaims his innocence, but has resigned so as not to further tarnish his party.

We await developments to see what the next damn silly gaffe from either side may be. Hopefully no more violent demonstrations, but at this point I fear that anything is possible.

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