Alan Partridge invented it, or at least codified it, in dealing with his Ukranian girlfriend: when you're in the presence of a non-native speaker and you don't want them to hear you, you just talk really fast. And it does work, mostly. But it's Pig Latin, as compared to the actual Latin that is Technical Idiom. When Ben and I need to communicate privately in public -- which is normally nigh-on impossible, as I remain an irreconcilably loud American -- we occasionally resort to Technical Idiom.

Technical Idiom consists of using obscure, ambiguous and non-cognate words to express yourself, so that the average English-proficient German still has problems understanding you. The psychological benefits may outweigh the practical. First, it is ego-gratifying to use big words: we all know this. Second, because Technical Idiom is still in the experimental stages, and because it can prove difficult to dust off terms like "persiflage" and "bellicose" for conversational usage, it's a very forgiving friend. Prehension falls before exactitude -- oh, see, there goes some Technical Idiom right there. A snippet of confabulation athwart practitioners:

BEN: Are you aware that a grandee over yonder engages you in address?
CHR: The rubipilate yeoman swathed in azure?
BEN: Uh... precisely so.
CHR: His visage bears no particular anamnesis.
BEN: And yet he regards you as would a basilisk.
CHR: Perhaps some... relinquished... muck-up?
BEN: You're somewhat better at this than I am.
CHR: Let's stop. No one cares.
BEN: Okay. "Rubipilate"?
CHR: Um, red-haired? I don't think it's a word. (To yeoman) Hallo!

As you see, with the added element of unbearable, masturbatory pretension, it's almost impenetrable.

A girl last night asked me, in German, if I fish well. I thought about it for an ego-negating minute before I realized that the door of Technical Idiom swings both ways.