IF nothing else, the recession is creating a boom in fascinating words. For instance, this week the nation’s tegestologists have been in their cups because, hit by falling beer sales and closing pubs, the company that produces two-thirds of Europe’s beermats has filed for bankruptcy protection in Germany.

Tegestologists are people who collect beermats – Leo Pisker, in Austria, is the champion tegestologist as he a world record 150,000 beermats in his collection. Such collectors are tegestologists due to a Greek word tegestos, which means “covering or mat”, because in its early days, a beermat did not go under the glass. It covered the top of it.

Traditionally, upper-class beer-drinkers, particularly in Germany, had their own heavy, pewter tankards with lids which were operated by a flick of the thumb. The lid was necessary because during a hot Saxony summer, they liked to sup outside beneath a shady tree. Insects, flowers, twigs and debris would tumble from the tree into their beer – unless the tankard lid protected it.

Lower-class drinkers couldn’t afford lidded tankards, so covered their glasses with felt.

Unfortunately, the felt quickly became smelly, so, in 1880, in Weisenbach, the first card-based beermat was produced. In fact, the German word for beermat – bierdeckel – really translates as “beer lid” (if you “deck”

someone, you hit them on the lid, or head).

Breweries soon realised they could advertise on der bierdeckel and landlords realised that, as well as covering the glass, it could mop up spillage beneath it.

The breakthrough came in 1892 when Robert Sputh invented a beermat made from wood pulp with greater capacity to soak up spillage. The sawmill in Weisenbach, founded in 1716 by Johann George Katz, went into mass-production of beermats in 1903. The Katz Group, the world’s biggest producer of beermats, is today in financial difficulties.

Through restructuring, the firm seems likely to survive, but the shock has been enough to leave tegestologists crying into their beer.

DAVID CAMERON was in the region this week, talking of a new age of austerity and promoting the virtues of thrift. What words!

Austerity comes from Latin austerus meaning “dry, harsh, sour, tart”, which, in turn, comes from a Greek wine-making word meaning “to make the tongue dry”. Austerity wine was sour, tart wine made from unripe fruit – exactly the sort of unpleasant fiscal taste we have coming our way.

Thrift comes from an Old Norse word þrift, which meant a “thriving condition or prosperity”.

Mr Cameron was using its modern sense, of being careful with money and materials to create that thriving condition.

Economists are taught John Maynard Keynes’ theory about “the paradox of thrift”. If you encourage people to be careful and save you will, in the long term, reduce demand and cut economic growth.

Therefore, by encouraging people to save, you will paradoxically limit their ability to save. We live in strange, thrifty times.

FINALLY, I was yesterday asked about Graham Onions, the Durham cricketer who took five wickets on his England debut at Lord’s.

To understand his surname, you have to know if he is of Welsh origin or an English Onions. If he’s Welsh, his name probably comes from “ennion”, which means anvil – someone who is strong and unmoveable.

If he’s an English Onions, then he is as he sounds – an onion-seller, derived from the old French word “oignon”.

It’s a case of knowing your onions.