Informer Crossword Clue

That tiny clue 'informer' is one of those little traps that makes me grin and groan at the same time.

My default fill for short crosswords is usually 'rat'—three letters, blunt, and used so often it's almost crossword shorthand. If the grid wants four letters, I lean toward 'fink' or 'tatt' (if it's playful), and for longer slots 'snitch' (6), 'informant' (8), or 'stoolie' (7) often fit. If the puzzle's from the UK, don't forget 'grass' or 'nark'—British setters love those. For cryptic puzzles the setter might be more sly: 'sings' could be clued by 'informer' (as in 'to sing' = to inform), so verb forms can appear rather than nouns.

Crosses are king. A lot of solvers panic at the clue but once a couple of crossing letters are in, the right fill jumps out. I like how this clue showcases regional vocabulary and setter style; it keeps every puzzle fresh and a little cheeky.

I love how the little word 'informer' can be a treasure chest for cryptic setters and solvers alike.

In my puzzles, 'informer' will often be the straight definition at one end of the clue, pointing you to synonyms like RAT, SNOOP, NARK, GRASS, or TELL‑TALE. That simple reading is super common: a short double definition such as 'Rodent or betrayer (3)' gives RAT straightaway. But setters relish disguise: you'll see 'informer' clued by wordplay — hidden words, containers, anagrams and charades are all fair game. For example, a hidden indicator like 'in' can hide 'spy' inside a longer phrase, or a container indicator like 'holding' might put RAT inside another word.

I also enjoy the British flavour — 'grass' or 'nark' appear frequently — and the setter might use slang or surface misdirection to steer you away. Spotting the definition (usually at an end) and then testing for hidden words, reversal indicators, or synonyms is my go-to approach; it turns a baffling clue into a satisfying little reveal. Feels like detective work every time, honestly.

I get a kick out of spotting the little synonyms for 'informer' that pop up across British newspapers' cryptic pages. When I'm doing the weekend cryptic in a coffee shop, the clue 'informer' will usually be the straight definition part of a clue and the solver's brain immediately starts listing suspects: 'grass', 'rat', 'nark', 'fink', 'stoolie' and occasionally longer entries like 'supergrass'. Those feel very British in tone, and you'll see them across the usual broadsheets and mid-market papers with cryptic grids.

Technically, 'informer' is most common in cryptic crosswords rather than quick definitions or themed variety puzzles. Setters rely on that simple one-word definition because it pairs well with all sorts of wordplay — hidden words, charades and containers. For example, a setter might hide a synonym inside a phrase, or put together letter chunks that look innocent on the surface.

I love that mix of slang and craft: you learn both language color and setter tricks at once. It makes finding 'grass' or 'rat' feel like catching a tiny cultural wink from the puzzle-maker, and I always grin when I spot them.

On my daily puzzle habit, I’ve noticed that setters love short, punchy synonyms for 'informer' because they fit tidy grids and are easy to clue. The three-letter classic is 'rat' — brutal, compact and utterly crossword-friendly. For four letters you'll often see 'narc' or 'fink'; both carry slightly different flavors (one cops-on-drugs, the other squeals generally), and clue writers exploit that nuance. When the grid allows six or seven letters, 'snitch' and 'squealer' pop up; they're more conversational and let setters play with surface readings.

Across different outlets there's regional variety: British puzzles like 'grass' or 'stoolie' more than US papers, and cryptic setters might use 'mole' for an undercover informer. I always scan crossings for a vowel pattern first — a lot of these synonyms have very predictable letter shapes — and that little trick saves me from getting tangled by lookalike options. It’s oddly satisfying to see how a single clue can lead to 'rat', 'narc', 'fink' or 'snitch' depending on tone and enumeration — it keeps me hooked and smiling at the setter’s cheeky choices.

Bright thought: if the crossword wants a six-letter word for an informer, my go-to is 'SNITCH'.

I like this one because it's common in both American and casual British puzzles and fits a straightforward 6-letter slot. If the pattern you have has known letters, try to line them up with S-N-I-T-C-H. For example, ?N?T?H would pretty much lock it in as 'SNITCH'.

That said, crosswords can be cheeky with register. If the clue feels more slangy or prison-themed, 'CANARY' can pop up (prison slang for someone who sings to the authorities). If the clue leans formal, though, the puzzle might avoid slang and use a different construction. I usually check intersecting letters and whether the clue is jokey or literal — that normally confirms it for me. Feels satisfying when the crosses click into place, and 'SNITCH' often provides that snap.

I love how crossword constructors sneak little slices of street slang into puzzles, and 'stoolie' is a perfect example of that playful vocabulary. At its simplest, 'stoolie' is just a colloquial, slightly cheeky synonym for an informer or snitch, and that makes it a handy fill when a puzzle needs a seven-letter person who rats someone out. Constructors like words that feel vivid and a touch old-school, and 'stoolie' has that smoky, noir flavor that lifts a dry grid.

The backstory helps, too. The term comes from 'stool pigeon' — originally a decoy bird tied to a stool to lure other birds — and it evolved into meaning someone who lures the law to criminals or rats them out. Over time people shortened and softened it to 'stoolie,' which is exactly the kind of slang that crosses from crime novels and newspaper prose into crossword cluing. You'll see it clued directly as 'informer' or more colorfully as 'rat on the crew' in themed puzzles.

For me, spotting 'stoolie' in a puzzle feels like a wink from the maker. It’s colloquial, evocative, and fits neatly when you need that specific shade of meaning — plus it sneaks in a little history and attitude, which I always appreciate.

The informer game is one of those classic party activities that never gets old, especially when you've got a group of friends who love a bit of suspense and drama. The setup is simple: one player is secretly the 'informer,' while the others try to figure out who it is through questions and observations. The informer’s goal is to subtly guide the conversation without being caught, while everyone else has to sniff out the hidden clues.

What makes it really fun is the mind games—dropping hints that could mean anything, watching people’s reactions, and seeing who starts pointing fingers first. I’ve played variations where the informer has a specific word or topic they need to steer the group toward, or even a 'mission' to make someone else look guilty. It’s a great way to test your poker face and your detective skills, and it always leads to hilarious accusations and dramatic reveals by the end.

I’ve built up a tiny arsenal of tricks and sites over the years that I reach for whenever a clue looks shady, and I’ll walk through how I use them.

If a clue feels like a misprint, missing enumeration, or weirdly British/American, my first stop is pattern search. I plug the pattern (like ?A?E? or A?C??) into a pattern solver such as 'OneLook' or 'Crossword Nexus' and scan results for odd spellings or less-common synonyms. Anagram solvers are lifesavers when the clue screams of letterplay — drop the fodder into an anagram site and see what pops. For cryptic-style cryptography, I’ll parse the clue for definition vs. wordplay, then use an anagram plus definition lookup.

When crossings don’t help, I turn to reference vaults: 'XWord Info' for historical clue usages, Merriam-Webster and British dictionaries if the puzzle is across the pond, and the 'Chambers' online entries for cryptic favorite words. Community resources like the 'Puzzling Stack Exchange' threads and r/crossword sometimes reveal setter habits or errata. I also Google the exact clue in quotes to find past puzzles or setter comments—that often exposes copy/paste errors or theme reveals. In short, mix pattern and anagram tools, authoritative dictionaries, and the community; together they usually uncover why a clue felt suspicious, and sometimes they reveal a charming setter trick that I wouldn’t have guessed — feels rewarding every time.

The first time I stumbled upon 'The Informer,' I was immediately drawn into its gritty, undercover world. It's a tactical stealth game where you play as a police informant trying to navigate the dangerous line between loyalty and survival. The tension is palpable—every decision feels like walking a tightrope. Betray the wrong person, and your cover’s blown; trust the wrong cop, and you might end up in a body bag. The game’s moral ambiguity is its strongest suit, making you question every alliance.

What really hooked me was the procedural storytelling. No two playthroughs are identical because NPCs react dynamically to your choices. One moment, you’re feeding intel to your handler, the next, you’re sweating bullets as a gang leader tests your loyalty. The atmosphere nails that '70s crime thriller vibe, complete with smoky bars and whispered deals. It’s not just about stealth mechanics—it’s about living a double life where paranoia becomes your closest companion.

If a clue raises my hackles, I run through a little mental checklist before I hit send to the editor.

First, I verify it's actually wrong or harmful rather than merely tricky: check the crossings in the published grid, confirm enumeration and spelling, and do a quick web search for obscure facts. If the clue is a factual error (dates, names, science), a misprint (wrong enumeration, missing letter), or impossible to solve because of a bad crossing, that's already worthy of contact. Equally important are clues that push into hate speech, slurs, defamatory assertions, or content that targets protected groups — those deserve prompt reporting.

When I do report, I include precise details: publication date, puzzle number or page, the clue text and the grid square(s) affected, and a screenshot if possible. I stay civil, explain why the clue is problematic, and, if I can, suggest a corrected reading or source. Doing this feels like keeping the hobby healthy; editors usually appreciate accurate, calm flags, and I sleep better knowing I did my bit.