Why we much prefer Saddam to Mr Hussein

Saddam is a name never out of the headlines, but some readers find our use of it, rather than 'Hussein', irritating. As one puts it: 'I do not feel myself to be on first-name terms with the man and I am surprised that your leader writers do.'

The problem is the assumption that Hussein is a surname. Middle East experts explain that calling Saddam 'Mr Hussein' is like calling George W. Bush 'Mr W'. Traditionally, an Arab male's full name consists of his first name, followed by his father's first name and then his grandfather's. Using this formula, the Iraqi President's name is Saddam Hussein abd al-Majid.

However, Iraq abolished all surnames when Saddam came to power, possibly because an increasing number of people in power shared the name 'al-Takriti', indicating they all sprang from Saddam's home town.

My piece on the changing meaning of words prompted an 'old-fashioned old leftie' to challenge our use of 'modernisation' when reporting the fire dispute: 'Like "productivity", this is a euphemism for "screw more work out of the lower orders".'

Norman Fairclough deals with this term at some length in his recent work, New Labour, New Language. Effectively, he argues, it passes off ideologically driven political actions as neutral technical improvements. Who could be against modernisation?

'I would argue that the use of this term without quotes is also an example of pretty well accepting the argument of one side of a dispute by using its language,' says our reader. 'A long-standing example is referring to "days lost" in strikes. I think these axiomatic biases could be amended with a little effort.'

Meanwhile, David Hunn, a former Observer sports editor, recalls how he was upbraided by a sub-editor, Douglas Rae. 'I had, in November 1968, used the word "prestigious" with the meaning that it has subsequently acquired and which I believed it had then. Not so, said Duggie. He was sure I would not wish to describe the occasion as being "likely to deceive".'

Today, Collins Dictionary lists 'prestigious' as 'having status or glamour' but with the secondary definition (tagged Rare) 'characterised by or using deceit'. (Think of prestidigitation and you get the picture.)

Another reader takes us to task for our misuse of 'syndrome'. 'I do not blame the writer, who is merely following the current trend, but I was brought up short by the reference to "a life-threatening syndrome that can cause migraines and memory loss", then, further down: "The disease, which used to be known as "sticky blood" syndrome, can cause a host of problems such as multiple miscarriages, memory loss, stroke and speech difficulties.'

The reader rightly feels the medical profession is complicit in the use of 'syndrome' as a synonym for 'disease', 'complaint' and 'illness', but asks: 'What is the point? We already have these other words, but "syndrome", correctly used, is an invaluable portmanteau word for all the symptoms associated with a particular complaint, in other words, the "host of problems" to which you refer, including the migraines mentioned earlier.'

Signing himself 'Pardon my apostrophes', a Middlesbrough reader warns of the 'extermination of that gravely threatened species, the adverb. Only a few sanctuaries now exist where this rare creature is to be seen, mainly in the north of the country'. I can't agree with that. The adverb is alive and well, roaming in majestic herds across these pages.

An adverb can modify a verb, an adjective, another adverb, a phrase or a clause. An adverb indicates manner, time, place, cause, or degree and answers questions such as 'how?', 'when?', 'where?' and 'how much?' - basic questions that all journalists strive to answer every day.

· Write to Stephen Pritchard, Readers' Editor, The Observer, 119 Farringdon Road, London EC1R 3ER, tel 020 7713 4656 Mon-Fri, fax 020 7713 4279 or email reader@observer.co.uk