Exhibit A. Consider the following from Mark Darbon, the recently appointed chief executive of Northampton rugby club, which, until last week’s defeat of Leicester, had been playing like drains. When asked about the club’s, ahem, form, he said: “Have we found a silver bullet for success that guarantees success for next season and beyond? I hope so.”

Further exhibits from the past week, in no particular order, include the following headlines: “A new medical school in Sunderland is not a silver bullet”; “Silver bullet solutions to citrus greening are unlikely”; “Active share can be useful, but it’s not a silver bullet”; “Zoning is no ‘silver bullet’ to speeding up housebuilding”.

Wrong, wrong and wrong again. What these journalists are looking for is the word “magic” before bullet. Magic bullet: “Drug that is capable of destroying bacteria, cancer cells, etc, without adversely affecting the host.” Silver bullets are useful only for dispatching werewolves, although given the alacrity with which said rounds are being indiscriminately loosed off, is it any wonder that these creatures are so rarely spotted these days, cut down in a murderous crossfire of trigger-happy language use?

Meanwhile, over in the anthropomorphic land that is Countryfile, a group of seals was described as “chilling out on the beach”. No they weren’t, they were doing what seals usually do, which, frankly, isn’t very much, at the best of times.

To a far happier advent. I am indebted to Irwin Stelzer for dropping a new word in my lap: “A worried Trump is turning to rescission to placate deficit hawks.” I now know that rescission means the revocation, cancellation or repeal of a law, order or agreement, but it is a word I’ve never, sadly, come across before. Quite when I shall be able to use is open to question, but let’s hope I have a chance before it gets winged by a stray silver bullet.