You see, I don’t understand why a posh person would be
attracted to my blog. It’s not exactly a posh blog, is it? So now I have an
image of a scullery maid or something, languishing on the lower decks of a
20-bedroom mansion, who has spent many years saving up enough little silver dimes
to buy herself a computer and now takes succour from reading a non-posh blog
written by some presumed kindred spirit in a far off land. That’s a bit
tear-jerking. It is.
Meanwhile, I’ve been trying to construct a ditty based on Astoria, but all I’ve
come up with so far is that it rhymes with Gloria and euphoria. That’s a bit
sad, too. I think the ditty gene must be switched off at the moment. (I gather that
genes can switch themselves off and on. I heard it in a documentary once, about
scientists being wrong for a change.)
* * *
On a more optimistic note, I finally got around to sending
the BBC an email yesterday pointing out what a crappy standard of English their
journalists are foisting on us lately. I gave an example of a headline from one
of the BBC Sports pages, and you know what? The item is still there today, and they’ve changed the headline in
accordance with my criticism.
Yo! Influence at last.
(I’m secretly planning to take over the world, you see, and
getting the BBC to replace ‘less’ with ‘fewer’ is just the first step.)
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