You know when you’re in the middle of a sentence and instead of saying the actual word or name, you go “you know, the thing…” or “that guy, you know who I mean…” Maybe you forgot it. Maybe you just don’t want to say it. Either way, you’re waving your hands around while the other person stares at you, completely lost.
Whatever the reason, Italian has a fantastic array of words and expressions for exactly these moments. And we use them all the time.
When you can’t (or won’t) name the thing
First, let’s look at all the ways we can say “thingy” in Italian — we have quite a few.
La roba
La roba is a broad, collective term that essentially means “stuff.” Our things, our belongings, that whole messy pile of whatever-it-is on the kitchen table, it’s all roba. It’s colloquial and pretty versatile, which is why we use it so much in Italian.
For instance, say there’s something others shouldn’t see. It could be Christmas presents, or something more questionable. Either way, by saying roba we’re keeping it vague:
Hai nascosto la roba?
Did you hide the stuff?
Same goes for things you can’t be bothered to specify. You might hear us say:
Devo fare delle robe e poi arrivo.
I have to do some things and then I’ll be there.
What things? Who knows!
But roba isn’t always neutral. When something is so weird or so ugly that we don’t even want to use its actual name, roba takes on a negative tone. Say your friend has just bought a truly unflattering outfit, you might comment
Come fa a piacerti quella roba?
How can you like that stuff?
We also use roba in exclamations like Roba da matti! or Roba da pazzi! (literally “stuff of madmen”), which is our way of saying “that’s insane!” and Tanta roba! (literally “a lot of stuff”), which means something is seriously cool or impressive.
And if you’ve ever watched an Italian crime series, you’ve definitely heard roba buona (literally, “good stuff”). Yep, it’s exactly what you’re thinking. No need to name it.
Questa è roba buona, non la trovi da nessuna parte.
That’s good stuff, you can’t find it anywhere.
Il coso / La cosa
If roba covers “stuff” in general, il coso and la cosa are what we use when we can’t name one specific thing. Cosa (feminine) is standard Italian for “thing,” while coso (masculine) is its colloquial counterpart, the equivalent of “thingy” or “whatsit.” We use them both so casually and so frequently that they could replace half the Italian vocabulary and most conversations would still make perfect sense.
For instance, if you forget that the phone charger is called il caricabatterie in Italian, no problem. Just say:
Passami il coso per caricare il telefono, per favore.
Pass me the thingy for charging the phone, please.
Mi serve la cosa per togliere le macchie, quella che mi hai fatto vedere ieri.
I need that thing to remove stains, the one you showed me yesterday.
Quella cosa là
We say quella cosa là (literally, “that thing there”) to talk about something without actually saying what it is, either because everyone already knows and there’s no need, or because someone in the room definitely shouldn’t find out. The là (there) adds just enough vagueness to keep things safely mysterious.
For instance, say you’re at a family lunch and you want to ask your cousin about something sensitive without the others catching on. You lean in slightly, lower your voice, and go:
Tutto a posto con quella cosa là?
Everything okay with that thing?
L’affare
You may already know l’affare as “deal” or “bargain”, but in everyday conversation it also works as yet another way to say “thing,” though with a slightly sharper tone than coso or cosa. When you call something l’affare, there’s often a hint of impatience behind it, almost like the object is getting on your nerves a little.
For instance, you’re at the train station with your ticket in hand, rushing to catch your train, and you remember you need to validate it before boarding. The machine is called obliteratrice, which is not the simplest of things to remember, so you ask:
Dov’è l’affare per timbrare il biglietto?
Where’s the thing for validating the ticket?
Notice how the speaker sounds a bit annoyed?
L’affare also works well for household objects that have mysteriously vanished, like:
Chissà dov’è finito quell’affare per togliere i pelucchi, funzionava benissimo.
Who knows where that thing for removing lint ended up, it worked perfectly.
Again, notice there’s a hint of frustration.
L’aggeggio
Aggeggio is yet another way of saying “thingy,” but we tend to use it especially when we’re referring to tools, gadgets, or appliances. Basically, the kind of objects whose proper names are too complicated to remember, or that we never bothered to learn.
Quanto è costato quell’aggeggio che usi per allenarti?
How much did that thing you use for working out cost?
Un certo non so che
Of course we also have our own version of the French expression je ne sais quoi: un certo non so che. Literally, “a certain I-don’t-know-what,” we use it when something or someone has a quality we can’t quite explain.
It works for things, like:
Questo posto ha un certo non so che. Sarà la luce, l’atmosfera, non so, ma è magico!
This place has something about it. Maybe it’s the light, the atmosphere, I’m not sure, but it’s magical!
And also for people, such as:
Mi piace la cugina di Stefano, ha un certo non so che.
I like Stefano’s cousin, there’s something about her.
Un brutto male
Not all vagueness is about forgotten words or playful avoidance. Un brutto male literally means “an ugly sickness” and we use it to refer to cancer or other serious illnesses. It’s just a way of softening something that feels too heavy to name.
Say you haven’t seen someone around for a while and you ask if anyone knows what happened. They might lower their voice and say:
Pare che abbia un brutto male, lo hanno operato d’urgenza.
Apparently, he’s got a serious illness, they rushed him into surgery.
When you can’t (or won’t) name the person
If Italian has quite a few options to avoid naming things, when it comes to people, there are even more.
Il coso / La cosa
Yep, coso and cosa work for people too. We use them when someone’s name has completely slipped our mind, but also when we remember it perfectly well and just don’t want to say it.
Hai poi telefonato a coso… sì dai, quello del gas?
Did you call what’s-his-name… you know, the gas guy?
Here, we genuinely can’t remember the name. But in this next example, borrowed from Gianni Morandi’s classic Fatti mandare dalla mamma, the tone is very different:
Tu digli a quel coso che sono geloso, che se lo rivedo gli spaccherò il muso
You tell that guy I’m jealous, and if I see him again I’ll smash his face.
Quello là / quella là — Questo qui / Questa qui
These expressions combine the demonstrative pronouns quello/quella (that) and questo/questa (this) with the adverbs là (there) and qui (here). Using them to refer to a person sounds quite rude, because instead of using their name, you’re treating them like an object — just “that one” or “this one.”
Questo qui / questa qui is for someone who is nearby or right there in the room. For example, if a friend’s boyfriend keeps making annoying comments, we might mutter:
Ma questo qui deve dire sempre la sua?
Does this one always have to give his opinion?
Quello là / quella là is for people who are at a distance or not present at all. And if they happen to be within earshot, we might add a more or less subtle nod in their direction. Say we’re in a line and someone tries to cut in front of everyone, we might turn to the person next to us and go:
Quello là è il solito furbo.
Look at that one, thinking he’s so clever.
Both work in the plural too:
Mi sa che questi qui dell’agenzia ci stanno fregando.
I think these people at the agency are ripping us off.
Quelle là del quarto piano hanno parcheggiato di nuovo davanti al nostro garage.
Those ones from the fourth floor parked in front of our garage again.
Certa gente
Unlike quello là or questa qui, which are rather rude, certa gente (literally “certain people”) hides behind a fake generality.
We don’t generally use certa gente to pay someone a compliment — it’s reserved for when we need to criticise someone without naming them. Say your mother-in-law keeps sharing your personal business with the entire family and you’re furious. You can’t say her name because she’s in the next room, but you absolutely need to let it out. So you turn to your partner and say:
Certa gente non sa proprio quando stare zitta.
Certain people just don’t know when to keep quiet.
Or better yet, you say it loud enough for her to hear from the next room. Because that’s the beauty of certa gente: since you haven’t technically named anyone, you can always play innocent. “What? I was speaking in general!”
Il signore / La signora
On paper, these are perfectly polite (just “the gentleman / the lady”), but when we say them with a certain tone, they become pure sarcasm. By calling someone il signore or la signora, we’re pretending to treat them like royalty, when really we’re mocking how full of themselves they are.
Say someone cancels plans at the last minute without a real excuse. We might comment:
Il signore è troppo occupato per onorarci della sua presenza.
His majesty is too busy to grace us with his presence.
Or maybe a colleague at work thinks she’s above everyone else, and we say sarcastically:
La signora non mangia in mensa, lei si fa portare il pranzo da fuori.
The lady doesn’t eat in the canteen, she has her lunch brought in from outside.
Il tizio / La tizia — Il tipo / La tipa
These are the Italian equivalent of “that guy” or “that woman.” They’re fairly neutral and work well both when we don’t know someone’s name and when we just can’t be bothered to use it. The two pairs mean essentially the same thing and are mostly interchangeable, tipo is just a bit more informal.
Here’s a case where we know the name but just can’t be bothered:
Ho preso appuntamento con il tizio della caldaia per domani mattina.
I made an appointment with the boiler guy for tomorrow morning.
And here’s one where we genuinely don’t know:
C’era una tipa al bar che ti cercava, ma non mi ha detto come si chiama.
There was some woman at the bar looking for you, but she didn’t tell me her name.
Tizio, Caio, e Sempronio
Three made-up names we use when we’re talking about generic, unnamed people, just like “Tom, Dick, and Harry” in English. Maybe we’re giving a hypothetical example and don’t want to use real names, or maybe we know exactly who we’re talking about but prefer to keep things vague.
Tizio, Caio e Sempronio possono dire quello che vogliono. Io faccio come mi pare.
Tom, Dick, and Harry can say whatever they want. I’ll do as I please.
Pinco Pallino
Pinco Pallino is another “nobody in particular” name. We use it when we want to make it clear that a person is not important.
For example, say someone with little experience gets put in charge of our team and immediately starts giving orders. We might grumble:
Non prendo ordini da un Pinco Pallino qualunque.
I don’t take orders from some random nobody.
Or say a friend is upset because someone left a rude comment on their social media post. We might say:
E ti arrabbi per un Pinco Pallino qualunque? Chi se ne frega!
And you’re getting upset over some random nobody? Who cares!
Notice the qualunque (“any,” “whatever”) at the end of these examples: it makes the comment sting even more, like they are not just a nobody, but a totally irrelevant nobody.
L’innominabile
From in- (not) + nominare (to name), l’innominabile (the unnameable) is a playful term for anyone we refuse to name, whether out of frustration, contempt, or even superstition.
A classic use is with ex-partners, when the breakup was so bad that the person has lost the right to be called by their name:
Indovina chi ho incontrato al supermercato? L’innominabile!
Guess who I ran into at the supermarket? The unnameable!
Un uccellino
Literally “a little bird,” un uccellino is a playful way to share gossip or secrets without revealing our source.
Of course, the little bird always has a name (maybe our aunt told our mother, who told us over coffee). We just pretend it doesn’t, and instead we just say:
Un uccellino mi ha detto che ti sposi… congratulazioni!
A little bird told me you’re getting married… congratulations!
Valentina Nicastro is a travel writer in love with her home country, Italy. Having travelled widely around the globe, she realised there was more to explore closer to home and decided to put the passport aside for a while. When she is not immersed in documenting Italy, you’ll find her donning her communication consultant hat, weaving words as a content writer and bridging linguistic divides as a translator.
