cornflakey

comparative more cornflakey · superlative most cornflakey · alternative corn-flakey · alternative corn-flaky · alternative cornflaky

1. informalResembling, characteristic of, or involving corn flakes.

   “I think I killed it.” / “Well,” said Weasel, “if you didn’t”—he stomped on the bug, making a faint, cornflakey crackle—“I did.”

   1997 April, Jerry Spinelli, The Library Card, New York, N.Y.: Scholastic Press, →ISBN, page 16

   5 more examples

   She is 23, five up on me. Wide, placid face with pale cornflakey freckles, mild blue eyes, heavy white arms and legs, partial to short skirts and tight sweaters.

   1980, W[illiam] P[atrick] Kinsella, Shoeless Joe Jackson Comes to Iowa, [Ottawa, Ont.]: Oberon Press, →ISBN, page 57

   “I’ve tried and tested lots of different fake tans but my faithful friend is Boots No 18 Speedtan which is only £2.79 a bottle. The only downside with them is that they smell foul — they all seem to have this coppery, cornflakey smell which absolutely reeks.”

   1994 June 11, Tracey Leigh Hunt, quotee, “Confessions of a lingerie model”, in Manchester Evening News, number 38,862, Manchester, page 9, column 2

   Taking vitamin supplements must be the answer. Perhaps I’d stop bellowing at the kids and make everything a game - that’s what the books say, ha ha—and when I emptied dustbins, they would no longer drip with cornflakey milk or coffee dregs.

   1996 May 23, “Encapsulating a whole new me!”, in The Huddersfield Daily Examiner, number 43,734, Huddersfield, page 20

   ‘Phil, look me in the eye and tell me those black cornflakey bits aren’t better out than in?” […] “Yeah, but not all at once. It trickles in under gentle gravitational pressure.” / “And what trickles out?” / “Well, obviously there’s shit and stuff to start with, but every now and then you get this incredible warm sensation followed by a black cornflakey thing that’s been stuck up there for years.”

   1997 March 4, Phil Hammond, “Men don’t go in for that sort of thing; phobias of hoses up the arse are rife among British chaps”, in The Independent, London, Tabloid section, page 3

   I might be trying not to have any morals when it comes to shagging around, but I sure as hell don’t sleep with people called ‘Colin’. It’s such a stupid, slow, cornflakey kind of name. People name their coldsores Colin.

   2003, Mina Ford, My Fake Wedding, Toronto, Ont.: Red Dress Ink, published April 2004, →ISBN, page 123