Substuff has moved!

It's official, www.rantingsubs.com is up and running!

Please do come over - I guarantee the grass is greener.

Substuff may be moving...

I am currently designing a new site using Wordpress. It's be the same blog, just with a posher look. It's a work in progress, but I'd be grateful for any honest feedback.

You can find it here currently: http://substuff.wordpress.com/ and soon also at www.rantingsubs.com. That's right folks, I've bought a domain. Rah!

Abuse discriminately

No time for serious posting today folks, I'm afraid. Press day is here.

However, a roving spy has just emailed me to share the following wisdom:

A sign at the entrance to the Dartford Tunnel reads something along the lines of "Acts of violence or abuse against staff are illegal". So please, if you happen to be in the area and heavy with bloodlust, take it out on a member of the public – abusing them is perfectly acceptable.

'No stable address' for horse botherer

A smashing one from The Independent.

The bigger the better? How irregular

I am not a coffee drinker, generally. I am one of those supercilious types who sips on green tea while others pollute their bodies. As I write, a large cup of Lipton peppermint and cinnamon tea is steaming away by my keyboard. However, occasionally, when no-one is looking, I do indulge in the odd latte.

Sunday afternoon was just such an occasion. On the way home from a wedding, as I scampered across Victoria station juggling a couple of bags and a slight hangover, Delice de France caught my eye (or my nostrils).

I ordered a brie and bacon croissant and a latte. "A regular latte?" asked the man. Yes, a regular latte. The more-than-£5 bill was a bit of a shocker, but hey, it's London.

And
then
came
the
coffee.

The man behind the counter put the crane into gear and started cranking. Slowly, my coffee rose into view. The counter groaned as it took the weight. I shouldered my bags and with both hands, reached out to lift the cup. As I took possession, my muscles trembled under the strain. Finally, a passing security chap, resplendent in fluorescent yellow, hailed one of those beeping cars, which eventually transported me and my swimming pool of coffee to platform 18.

Well, something like that, anyway.

"Regular". Are you serious?

Let me read to you from the OED, Delice de France.

regular
denoting merchandise, especially food or drink, of average, medium or standard size

So how big is an average, medium, standard, regular coffee? Well call me old-fashioned, but shouldn't this be... umm... the regular size you make at home? Y'know, an average cup. A normal one, if you will. Say about 10 ounces? So then a 'small' would be perhaps 8oz and a large would be 12oz. But no. I am pretty sure that I was given a good 16oz of latte – that, fellow pedants, is a pint. A pint!

Now I admit that I shouldn't have fallen for the old "a regular latte?" marketing trick. But still. This is silly. One pint of coffee and milk is not regular. In fact, I would argue that it is highly irregular. Most of it was milk, so... that's the best part of 261 calories and 9.1 grams of fat. If I'd known that, I'd have gone for chocolate cake instead, dammit.

Political parties listen up! First one to promise legislation on appropriate use of adjectives of size gets my vote. No more primo, medio and massimo, Costa. No more tall, grande and venti, Starbucks. No more ridiculous regulars, Delice. C'mon, Mr Brown, Mr Cameron, Mr Clegg. Last one there's a Tory!

Googling my plight, I discovered this post from a disgruntled Starbucks customer protesting against being made to say 'venti'. Very funny.

Do pictures matter?

Ah, we've all been there. The caption says one thing, the picture something else entirely.

Today, I caught the Metro at it.

"When I work with children we talk about people who have achieved things, like Nelson Mandela (pictured)," says Dr Linda Papadopoulos. "I ask them what they think of his appearance and they look at me like I'm mad because it is irrelevant."

When they look at you as if you are mad, Linda, are you holding up a picture of a chess board and claiming it is Nelson Mandela?

Oopsie!

If you use me, please leave me clean

I love this. Read the story behind it here at newsbiscuit.com.

Were you being funny, Mr Griffin?

Nick Griffin made me think. Oh yes he did. About puns.

While there may be several situations in which a pun is a bad thing, one of the worst must be when it just makes people think you can't spell.

When Griffin wrote the following on Twitter yesterday, my first thought was "he can't even spell Cameron right?"

But hang on! Could that be ca-moron? Geddit? Moron? You tell me.

Was it:
a) shoddy spelling?
b) a pun?
Cast your votes!

Oh, and while we're at it. I have a similar issue with a company called Aforedable Golf, whose sandwich board sign stopped me in my tracks the other day. I know they meant it. They just shouldn't have.

How sub-editors do graffiti

Watch out, bag

Every morning I walk past a pub that has a sign in the window saying:

Warning! Random bag searches are being carried out.

And it always makes me snigger.

World Cup worries

Alert, alert, all ye football haters, avoiders and ignorers. The season is upon us and there is no escaping it. For those of you out there who combine a love of language with a love of sport: congratulations. For me, there are few things I would less like to read about, let alone sub. However, we must rise to the challenge! We must overcome! Even in the shadowy world of grocery, it's already getting a bit black, white and hexagonal and its only just beginning.

I've already been caught out once, for a feature ending "whoever ends up lifting the Jules Rimet trophy, you can be sure..." Fortuitously, I had asked someone who does know football to proof it after me - and whaddaya know, the Jules Rimet trophy was given to Brazil in 1970 and the current one is actually a replica that goes by the name of the FIFA World Cup trophy. Nice save!

Footballers' names are also a perilous area. In copy this week, we had Frank Ribery, Stephen Pienaar, Rafael Marquez and Diego Forlan. It should be Franck Ribéry, Steven Pienaar, Rafael Márquez and Diego Forlán (who plays for Atlético Madrid, not Atletico Madrid). Spot the difference.

Readers, my message is this. Although the sight of a page sprinkled with football-related copy may put you in a mind to drop into a deep coma, resist! Thataway lies chaos...

Marketing gold?!

Oh marketing people, bless your little cotton socks but you're a nasty lot. Did you ever consider us poor grocery-bound sub-editors when you named this new ice cream? Hmm? It's a Magnum. And it's gold. So to call it Magnum Gold would have been just fine. Just fine and dandy.*

So what was with the '?!', hmm? See, even just to write that sentence, I had to add a 'hmm' so that my question mark would not butt up against your crazy question-and-exclamation-mark combo (and still I sweated about the comma).

Anyone writing about this product looks damn crazy. Witness:

Unilever is combining a bit of rough with the smooth, as Wolfman star Benicio del Toro replaces Eva Longoria as the face – and eyebrows – of Magnum Gold?!

Yes, it looks as though the reporter either can't quite believe what he or she is writing, or is a little deranged. As a sub-editor, I just couldn't take it: this esteemed publication will be docking you of your '?!' in copy. Now I suggest [wagging finger] you go and have a long think about what you've done!

*Having just done a Google image search for 'Magnum Gold', I wonder if Unilever knew how outnumbered the ice cream would be by horses and guns...

Oh, those cheeky prepositions!

Well I brought this upon myself and I won't pretend otherwise.
I asked for questions – and boy, did I get them.

Young Mr Ball at the Bureau of Investigative Hackery twittered gleefully: 'Tackle with/from/of. I know it's "bored with" but "died of"? "died from"? "made of"? HELP.'

Well Mr Ball, the main thing to say is that it's a big sticky mess – but you knew that already. So here goes. Perhaps not my wittiest ever post, but I hope it is at least useful to some.

I'm going for the 'made of/with/from' chestnut first, as it's one that has been gently bothering me for a while. I couldn't find a nice clean guide on this anywhere, so I have racked my brains (yes, I believe it is racked, not wracked) and come up with a working model. Well, it works for me, anyway... but I am certainly open to being further enlightened.

• Use made of if the material retains its original properties: "the chair is made of wood."
• Use made from if the material's original properties have changed: "paper is made from wood."
• Use made with to describe an addition to usual components – "Battenburg cake is made with ground almonds." (I can't think of any non-cooking example of when you would use this.)

'Die' was an easy one. Nice simple explanation in the OED:

die
the normal constructions are to die of (a malady, hunger, old age, etc) or to die from ( a wound, inattention, etc).

Anyone bored yet? And if so, are you bored with me, by me, or of me, you ungrateful beasts? If it's the third, you have a regrettable tendency, so read on! According to Fowler's:

bore
The normal constructions are with with or with by: they were bored with being left alone in the country; he became bored with Patrick; they were bored by the party political broadcasts. A regrettable tendency has emerged in recent years to construe the verb with of.

And then there's the old favourite, compare. It is almost always written as compared to, but almost always should be compared with. The former is only used to describe similarity, whereas the latter is used for contrasts and, well, comparisons.

Even The Times and the Guardian style guides agree:

The Times:
compare with/to compare with (the more common use) when differences or contrasts are the point - “compare the saints with the devils” or “compared with last year's figures” etc; compare to for likenesses - “compare this image to a damsel fair”

Guardian:
compare to/with
The former means liken to, the latter means make a comparison: so unless you are specifically likening someone or something to someone or something else (eg Nothing Compares 2 U), use compare with. A former lord chancellor compared himself to Cardinal Wolsey because he believed he was like Wolsey; I might compare him with Wolsey to assess their relative merits

Ah, but that's not the end of the story. There are more. Different from/to (not than, please), scared of/by... But surely, that's enough for one day.

Pegging away

Substuff is currently investigating: made from/with/of, died with/of and bored with/of, etc. And dealing with having five working days squashed into four both this week and next. But I'm on it!

Check out the byline

And for all those unbelievers who think it's not a real name, the link is here.

(My apologies to Mr Boyes.)


Thanks to @badjournalism on Twitter for this!

Art desk in teaching-subs-a-word shocker!

Brace yourselves.

A brace, as a collective noun, does not mean what I thought it did.

It is one of those words that has hovered on the periphery of my consciousness, never needing to be written or spoken (or looked up), just casually absorbed on occasion. I'd heard "a brace of pheasants" and suchlike and assigned it a vague meaning of 'several'.

Wrong!

Upon hearing the phrase "a brace of c***s" used to describe two, ahem, football players, I enquired as to the meaning and was told it meant 'two'. It is often used in sports commentary, apparently.

To the OED I went – and I tip my hat. Indeed it does mean two, or, more specifically, a pair.

brace:
a pair of something, typically of birds or mammals killed in hunting

Mozzarella on that cocktail?

Ah, how often I read of margarita pizzas. Now, I like dough. And I have big love for tomato and mozzarella. And I'm even partial to a little tequila and Cointreau set off with freshly squeezed lime. But I can't help but think they'd make an awfully soggy mess combined.

Better that, though, than posing in a swanky bar in your best dress, sipping on a margherita all sexy like, cheese stringing resplendently between your lips and the glass.

So, just to spell it right out...

A margarita is a refreshing cocktail made with* tequila, Cointreau and lime juice.

A margherita is a tomato, mozzarella and basil pizza (named after the Italian queen Margherita of Savoy, don't you know).

Thinking about it, I'd quite enjoy a margherita accompanied by a margarita. Right now. Preferably served by a lady called Margaret.


* Made with? Made of? Made from? Watch this space...

Oh the shame...

Well you try to do a good thing. Pfft.

With the news team understaffed and the subs desk undersupplied with copy, I agreed to write a story. Now, when I write, I don't think in the same way as when I sub. I try to write nicely, but I don't pore over the details in the same way - I know it's going to be edited and I trust those who are going to do the editing. Feel free to read the two sentences preceding this one as what they are: excuses.

I committed what is pretty much a capital offence in our office.

I spelled Procter & Gamble wrong.

Much hectoring from Hegarty & Co.

Time for seppuku.

Love life advice

If you run out of human possibilities, you need to get proactive. Neigh!

Apologies to Telegraph.co.uk for picking on it twice in one week. I couldn't resist...

Just to clarify, this is Charlotte Martin, who is looking for a farmer to love. Not a horse. Read all about it.

Future of News meeting

I'm off to an event held by the Brighton Future of News group tonight. Web designer and developer Richard Pope will be giving a speech on web activity surrounding the upcoming election. It's at 7.30pm at The Skiff and the link is here, should anyone be interested.

There are also other similar groups around the UK, links here.

Telegraph gets sexy with science!

Ah, the Hardon Collider!

(I saw it on Twitter, so it must be true)

Data analysts: love 'em

Hold on to your hats, folks, here's some smokin' hot news about barbecues.

"The BBQ is a summer event, which is enjoyed by younger families and a third of the time with friends or relatives. Enjoyment is a primary need for having BBQ food (77%), this manifests itself through social entertaining, creating favourites and treating needs. New occasions in the last year were more about treating and creating special occasions than social entertaining or habit."

Those of you who thought it was a winter hobby best enjoyed alone and with only a small necessity for food, you were wrong!

Is cod a species or a specie?

That was the question the fresh desk threw at the subs desk amid the sweat and blood of press day. The senior reporter had been admonished at a fishy convention for using the word 'species' in the singular.

Having always used 'species' for both singular and plural uses, I began to sweat/glow slightly from the palms at this question. But the OED's response warmed my subby little heart.

Not only were the fresh desk and the subs desk victorious in their rightness (I was right, right, RIGHT I tell you), but the fish man was wrong. Terribly wrong. Mwah ha haaaa.

specie:
(mass noun)
money in the form of coins rather than notes

species:
noun (pl same)
a group of living organisms consisting of similar individuals capable of exchanging genes or interbreeding

So unless we are talking about cod coins, we'll stick with 'species' thank you ever so.

What a difference a comma makes

Here's a sentence for you:

Although Nina was released without charge by the police less than a week later she received a letter from a civil recovery firm demanding the princely sum of £137.50.

So, when was Nina released? And when did she receive the letter? Did she spend a week in jail?

Having checked, I have changed it to:

Although Nina was released without charge by the police later that day, less than a week later she received a letter from a civil recovery firm demanding the princely sum of £137.50.

When headlines go bad

John McIntyre posted the following headlines on his blog today, under the apt title of Maybe hire a copy editor:

Yahoo News headline: Women, girls rape victims in Haiti quake

Comment on CNN screen crawl: Jewish lobby runs America

MSNBC: I-Team: Judge Married Woman, suspected Abuser

WJZ-TV: Man Arrested For Sexual Assault On College Campus

Reuters: BOJ split vote raises doubts about future easing

CNBC: End of Mortgage Buys Form of Tightening: Pimco

To read more of his You Don't Say blog, click here: http://johnemcintyre.blogspot.com/

Today, I am councillor

According to my horoscope, all those of the Capricorn persuasion should act as councillors to their friends today. So come on pals, bring me your parking woes and submit to me petitions against strip clubs.

(I know you know, but they meant to say 'counsellor'.)

James's apostrophe

Once upon a wine-fuelled Friday night, I was called on to settle an old score between two friends. One, let's call him Dave, insisted that James's name, in the possessive, should be spelt exactly thus. James, on the other hand, maintained that he needed no s and that the apostrophe should stand alone: James'.

I said that I thought it went on pronunciation: so in this case, James's, but in the case of a name where the extra 'iz' is not pronounced (frustratingly I couldn't think of a good example), the final s would be omitted. But then I got slightly confused because I knew there was some different rule about Jesus, which I couldn't put my finger on.

Today, I have gone to the authorities and I can declare Dave victorious.

Fowler's says:

Use 's for the possessive case in English names and surnames whenever possible; ie in all monosyllables and disyllables, and in longer words accented on the penult, as Burns's, Charles's, Cousins's, Dickens's, Hicks's, St James's Square, Thomas's, Zacharius's. It is customary, however, to omit the 's when the last syllable of the name is pronounced /-IZ/, as in Bridges', Moses'. Jesus' is also an acceptable liturgical archaism.

The Guardian's style guide says, succinctly:

Words ending in -s use use -s's (Dickens's house): for plurals, use -s'.

And The Times's (yes, s's) says:

With proper names/nouns ending in s that are singular, follow the rule of writing what is voiced, eg, Keats's poetry, Sobers's batting, The Times's style (or Times style); and with names where the final “s” is soft, use the “s” apostrophe, eg, Rabelais' writings, Delors' presidency; plurals follow normal form, as Lehman Brothers' loss etc
Note that with Greek names of more than one syllable that end in "s", generally do not use the apostrophe "s", eg, Aristophanes' plays, Achilles' heel, Socrates' life, Archimedes' principle; but note Jesus's (not Jesus') parables.

Jesus, I note, is torn. He gets away with no s in Fowler's, but is commanded to take one by The Times. James, however, is well and truly decided. Take your apostrophe and your s, sir - and we shall have no head-kicking in response, thank you very much.

Cheeky Metro headline

Tucked away on a little story about a study finding acupuncture doesn't help with fertility:

"A prick that won't get you pregnant"

Lovely stuff.

When "to" just won't quite do

Around this time last year there came a command from on high that dashes must no longer be used between two figures to show a minimum-to-maximum variation. To put that in English, "£60m-£70m" was banned. We were told to change our style guide to say that "to" must be used instead. So "£60m to £70m".

(This happens quite a lot here – hence we lower case "government" in all instances, much to - ahem - some people's chagrin.)

The reasoning behind the outlawing of the dash was that it was ugly. Perhaps so. However, there is a serious problem with substituting it with "to", which was demonstrated yesterday.

Defra's Milk Road Map commits farms to reduce water by 5% to 15% per litre of milk by 2010 and big dairies to cut water use by 30% by 2020.

Aside from the fact that the layperson could interpret this to mean water content in milk, rather than the water footprint of milk, the figures here are open to interpretation. Does it aim to reduce water usage by 5% and bring it to a level of 15%, or to reduce water usage by between 5% and 15%?

I strongly suspect the latter, as the former doesn't make much sense. We are awaiting confirmation... Watch this space.*

Regarding the dash/to issue, I think in most instances both can be avoided by the use of "between xxx and xxx".

*Anyone who finds him or herself actually watching this space is advised to seek medical advice.

How old is an infant?

My sources tell me voices and tempers were raised at The Sunday Times this weekend, over the subject of children. Or, more specifically, infants.

The story in question was that of five-year-old Sahil Saeed, who was kidnapped in Punjab on Friday.

The source of the editorial unrest was that the copy described the child as an 'infant' - a word that has two meanings in British English: 1) a schoolchild aged between five and seven; 2) a baby.

Although this was apparently a matter of great debate at The Sunday Times, the members of our subs desk unanimously agree that the prevailing meaning is 'baby'. A little investigation into the origins of the word (in the OED) was helpful:

from Latin infant- 'unable to speak', from in 'not' + fant- 'speaking' (from the verb fari)

But where are the rules? Neither The Times nor the Guardian style guides address the subject, and Fowler is of little assistance. And what of toddlers, babies, youths etc?

After some discussion, we have decided upon:

Baby/infant - up to 18 months
Toddler - 18 months to three years
Child - 18 months to 12 years??
Youth - 12 years to 18 years
Teenager - obvious

Erm... does anyone have a more specific guide?

Iconic behemoths

Behemoths roam the country! Beware, beware! Rarely, it seems, do we mention a large company without referring to it in the following paragraph as "the retail behemoth", "the soft drinks behemoth", "the lollipop behemoth" (okay, so I made the last one up) etc.

Let's take a moment here. A behemoth is a big scary monster, a "huge or monstrous creature", according to the OED.

More specifically, it is a big scary monster from the Book of Job.

Behold now the behemoth that I have made with you; he eats grass like cattle. Behold now his strength is in his loins and his power is in the navel of his belly. His tail hardens like a cedar; the sinews of his tendons are knit together. His limbs are as strong as copper, his bones as a load of iron. His is the first of God's ways; [only] his Maker can draw His sword [against him].

I would suggest, therefore, that this is not a synonym for 'supermarket'. Lets save it for the very big and powerful – and let's use it sparingly. It's a bloody fantastic word and deserves to be treated as such. Bring on the metaphors – but make them work.

Another one is 'iconic'. Now I know I have ranted about this before, but I'll say it again: it does not just mean impressive, well-established or famous.

Here's the OED definition:

icon:
a painting of Christ or another holy figure, typically in a traditional style on wood, venerated and used as an aid to devotion in the Byzantine or other Eastern churches.
A person or thing regarded as a representative symbol of something: this iron-jawed icon of American manhood

Iconic:
of, or relating to, the nature of an icon

So Coca-Cola is not iconic. Unless you worship it (yes, yes, I am sure there are those that do). Neither is the Cadbury bunny. Or L'Oreal's "because I'm worth it" strapline. The film Avatar could perhaps be referred to as iconic. Or the WeightWatchers points system. People do, after all, appear to be openly worshipping both. But again, let's keep 'iconic' true to its meaning and not use it willynilly to describe any old impressive thing.

Yes. Let that be a lesson to you, world!

Sit ye down

In a year of heavy promotions, category leader [company] held firm on its thrown as sales grew 1.9% and volumes remained flat.

Company rules

1. You WILL treat the Refrigerator with the utmost reverence. Approach it cautiously; do not startle it. Placate the Refrigerator by making it small offerings of food and milk. Attach to these your name and possibly a short message of devotion using the labels provided – this way the Refrigerator will be better equipped to decide who should go to heaven and who to hell. THOSE NOT FOLLOWING THESE SIMPLE GUIDELINES WILL HAVE THEIR OFFERINGS REGURGITATED INTO THE BIN AND WILL BE CONDEMNED TO STARVATION FOR THE REMAINDER OF THE DAY.
2. On a three-weekly basis, you WILL provide the Blood bank with three pints of Blood. These will be stored in the company cellars and used in the event of your death to grow a replacement work drone.*
3. YOU WILL BUY CAKE FOR CHARITY. And you will eat it and you will like it. The Cake will be served from a Mobile Cake Distributor, which will visit every desk to ensure all employees fully participate in the Cake Eating Event. Any protest or attempt not to eat Cake will be met with immediate beration.
4. You WILL give 20% of your annual salary to Raffles. This will be regulated by the two Raffle Warriors. The company reserves the right to have one of them hold you down while the other empties your wallet. It is necessary for the Raffle Warriors to squawk at top volume throughout this process, as this is deemed a fitting means of worship for the Raffle.
5. You WILL be grateful for the use of the company Fun Bus in getting to and from work, even if the bus does not have enough seats for you to actually USE it. Note also that no ‘Fun’ will be had on the aforementioned Bus. Additionally, staff will at all times remember that it is a privilege to work in such a scenic region and that they are lucky to get any help at all from the company in getting to the office, even though it is in the middle of nowhere and Sir Ranulph Fiennes himself would think twice about walking to it from the station.
6. You WILL be on standby at all times to provide a Phone Charger. At any moment, a company-wide email may circulate because someone, somewhere in the building, is in desperate need of a Phone Charger. It is essential that employees are not left with underpowered mobile phones for longer than three minutes. It is your duty, therefore, to keep a supply of Phone Chargers on your person at all times, preferably in holsters or a tool belt. This policy also applies to USB keys and back issues of obscure magazines.

*Note: The company reserves the right to use the Blood for whatever purpose it deems fit. This may included supplementing the workforce by growing new hybrid IT-hack-sales drones in its top-secret tank in the cellar.

Who gets it: the poet or the prophet?

Ah, much happiness in my subby little world. Dim sum with Mr Dixon in the sunshine yesterday and the opportunity to practise attempting to convey an impression of great intelligence while simultaneously using chopsticks. A trip to The Times, tidbits overheard in lifts, a handshake with Simon Pearson and the possibility of shifts.

More joy: a beautiful two-volume New Shorter Oxford English Dictionary has fallen into my clutches. I have been getting by at home with an Encarta dictionary (complete with pictures and American spellings) for the past decade, always meaning to make the move to Oxford and always finding something less dictionary-like to spend my pennies on. These babies have thumbnails. And gold lettering. And little blue speckles on the sides. So beautiful.

And in further book-bliss news, I have been lent Dr Johnson's Dictionary of Entertaining and Historically Stimulating Words (if I may abbreviate its title so abruptly). I haven't yet had the opportunity to properly investigate the delights within. But here's a question.
On the back, it says:

Va'ticide n.s. [vates and caedo, Latin.] A murderer of poets

Fantastic! I gave it a quick Google to see if I could find an instance of it actually being used. Had there ever been a rampage by a vaticidal maniac? Was vaticide more of a problem in some parts of the world than others? Sadly – happily, in fact, for the poets among us – there were no examples to be found. (Although it does appear to be the name of an Australian heavy metal band – disturbing image alert.) But to my surprise, the word was translated overwhelmingly as "the murder of a prophet". Murder, not murderer. Prophet, not poet.

To the shiny OED I went (although 'went' is probably the wrong word, considering that I have had it clutched lovingly to my bosom for the past two hours). It translates vates as a poet, especially one divinely inspired; a prophet-poet. So a bit of both, then.

But to me, the murder of a prophet and a murderer of poets are two quite different things. And if I am going to use such a fantastic word, I want to know what it means! Any offers?

Fly me to America!

Oh my goodness, I have just discovered it is National Grammar Day this Thursday. IN AMERICA! Dammit, why do the yanks get all the *fun*?

They sell these t-shirts too, which are plainly very, very cool.

Groundhog Day

These are treacherous times.

Our deputy features editor has just revealed that he yesterday inserted a clanger into his copy on purpose to see if I would pick it up and blog about it. A cheeky little trick to pull on a press day, I say.

The offending sentence was:

It felt like groundhog day all over again

I changed it to

It felt like Groundhog Day

And went on my merry way.

However, since he revealed his treachery this morning, I have started to ask myself whether I was right to change it. He meant to convey a feeling of something happening all over again, having already been repeated several times before. However... the actual (y'know, actual) Groundhog Day does not carry this meaning.

The OED says:

Groundhog Day:
2 February, when the groundhog is said to come out of its hole at the end of hibernation. If the animal sees its shadow - ie if the weather is sunny - it is said to portend six weeks more of winter weather.

The film of the same name, however, was about a TV weatherman who wakes up to the same day over and over again (can't imagine how that would feel) - and it was clearly to this meaning that my dear colleague was referring.

So... was I right to change it? Has the movie meaning superseded the dictionary meaning? Or did I effectively change his comment so that it likened a sustainability forum to a woodchuck coming out of its hole? Hmm...

Circumventing the ready meal

(A bit like Romancing the Stone, but less... er... romantic)

The wilds of Crawley appear fairly free of dastardly lexical deeds today. However, this one did raise a chuckle:

[Company] redesigned the packaging so that all the information was on a watch strap-shaped strip of cardboard circumventing the meal.

Alarm bells ring... rightly so, it transpires. The OED says:

Circumvent:
find a way around [an obstacle], overcome (a problem or difficulty) typically in a clever and surreptitious way: terrorists found the airport checks easy to circumvent.

Sneaky little cardboard strip!

The Guardian has a Word of Mouth blog post on foodie mispronunciations today, with such beauties as crudités pronounced "crudd-ites" and mange tout as "mango trout".

My favourite response so far comes from Pippatree:

Not a mispronunciation, but a mistranslation. As a student in a French conversation class, we were discussing food; fast food and ready meals in particular. I made the point that I thought there are too many preservatives in ready-prepared meals. Unfortunately and embarrassingly, 'preservative' in French is conservateur and not, as I assumed, préservatif, although too many condoms in ready meals would also be an issue for me.

Substuff = millionaire(ss)

This Is Our Last Notice To You. We wish to notify you again that you were listed as a beneficiary to the total sum of US$18,500,000.00 Dollars in the intent of the deceased (name now withheld since this is our second letter to you). We contacted you because you bear the surname identity and therefore can present you as the beneficiary to the inheritance since there is no written will. Our legal services aim to provide our private clients with a complete service. We are happy to prepare Wills, set-up and administer Trusts, carry out the Administration Of Estates and prepare and administer Powers Of Attorney. All the papers will be processed in your acceptance. In your acceptance of this deal, we request that you kindly forward to us your letter of acceptance, your current telephone and fax numbers and a forwarding address to enable us file necessary documents at our high court probate division for the release of this sum of money in your favour. Yours faithfully, Brian Anderson

Methinks Brian Anderson would be a richer fraudster if he could write a bit better.

Picky pants

Perhaps I was in a picky mood this morning - moi? Anyway, I noticed a couple of tricksy little bits of English.

This headline and standfirst in the Guardian:

BA boss needs to wear a velvet glove
Striking British Airways cabin crew are at fault but Willie Walsh needs to keep in mind they are key to the airline's success

I struggled to read the standfirst, because (prompted, presumably, by the velvet glove in the headline) I read 'striking' to mean 'attractive', or 'bold-looking'. Of course, it means 'on strike'. Duh. Maybe I just have a latent desire for striking velvet gloves... (by which I mean attractive velvet gloves rather than velvet gloves that refuse to perform their glove-like duties until I satisfy their pay demands, or a desire to commit violence towards velvet gloves). Still, it's worth bearing in mind that the word acts as an adjective as well as a verb.

And this sentence, over at The Times:

Lord Mandelson, the Business Secretary, insisted that nobody at No 10 would endure bullying as he defended the Prime Minister from allegations over his behaviour towards staff.

My issue here is with the word 'as'. It is being used to describe two things that are happening at the same time, but the problem is that there are three things going on here - not two:

1. Lord Mandelson insisting
2. People not enduring bullying
3. Lord Mandelson defending the Prime Minister
   As a result, it reads somewhat clumsily. Nobody will be bullied during Lord Mandelson's defence of the Prime Minister? I should hope not.

I'd also question whether 'endure' is the correct choice of word - defined by the OED as: 'suffer [something painful or difficult] with patience'. Not quite what he meant, I assume, and the word 'suffer' or 'experience' would probably be more apt.

In fact, no more Mr Nice Guy. I hate this sentence! "Nobody would endure bullying"? Well have they in the past, then? Or not? They did but no longer? What are you telling me, Mr Mandelson? I don't understand!

Closer to home, we've got the usual compliment/complement and comprise/include problems... I feel a post coming on.

The inner pervert

Lurking Tourette's syndrome: we all have it. My keyboard expressed it for me on Friday, by omitting the crucial 'o' in "the opportunities are countless". Yes, the crucial 'o' - not either of the ones in 'opportunity'. Anyway, now I have my shiny new keyboard (which is disappointingly silent and cannot be clattered upon, no matter how hard I bash), I'm safe - right?

Wrong!

In the words of Sage Davies: "We all have it latently and our subconscious is constantly trying to express it."

It's true. The BBC had a 'pubic' on its homepage the other day, where it should have had a 'public'. And a member of our subs desk recently transformed Richard Pennycook into Richard Pennycock in a headline (rectified before publishing – and no comment, one presumes, on Mr Pennycook).

That same person - let us not dillydally over what may or may not be weighing upon his/her mind - also recently wrote the following headline. Bear in mind this is in nice big print and the eye takes in the first line first...

Shuddering over past cock-
ups and mistakes? They
formed your best training

This was, I think wisely, changed to the following:

Shuddering over previous
cock-ups and errors? They
formed your best training

Last week, in his online Q&A, The Times' chief revise editor Richard Dixon admitted:

At the Telegraph, I innocently wrote a cricket headline: "Willey stands firm for unbeaten 97". It is memorable, at least to me and the poor chief sub who let it through.

And the chief sub here owns up to having had a rather red-faced moment as a trainee at the Reading Chronicle:

Willy gets cocky

It was a story about a little boy - called William - who dressed up as a chicken for a birthday party. Luckily, the proofreaders intervened.

The conclusion? Whether you know it or not, you have an inner pervert just waiting to get out. And the less you look like one on the outside, the more embarrassing it will be when it happens. How to avoid it? Put your dirty head on and look again!

Finally, I couldn't resist. The cock-up headline was just begging to be rewritten as a haiku - you know it. So, here's my offering:

Shuddering over
Cock-ups and errors now past?
They were your training.

Who's been writing what?

When I arrived at work today, someone (identity as yet unknown) had kindly left David Marsh's Mind your language column on my desk. His topic this week is the upset caused by the Guardian's policy of using the word 'actor' to describe both actors and actresses - or male and female actors, as the case may be.

Personally, I find the decision to modernise language in such a way that it conveys less information than its previous version odd. 'Actress' tells me in one word what 'female actor' tells me in two.

Marsh's argument is that in most cases the sex of the subject is irrelevant.

"There is normally no need to differentiate between the sexes - and if there is, the words male and female are perfectly adequate: Lady Gaga won a Brit for best international female artist, not artiste, chanteuse or songstress."

The subject certainly seems to arouse passions. When I mentioned it earlier, it even awoke the wrath of the art desk - usually immune to all discussions of house style. Their verdict: the abolition of 'actress' is "ridiculous". This sub-editress/sub-editrix is inclined to agree.

No such fripperies for Sally Baker, who in her Feedback column on Saturday tackled the tricky subject of reporting suicide. When does information become too much information, or, worse, an instruction manual? And when is it acceptable to print a picture of a public suicide? It's not something I have ever had to confront, here in the world of trade magazines. But an interesting - and important - read.

The world's longest sentence

This is from a Sutton United match report. I think it's the longest sentence in the world:

"The result maintained U’s place in the playoff positions at the head of a group of no fewer than ten clubs within six points of each other, their position strengthened by having the best goal difference in the division apart from Dartford, and games in hand over most of the sides around them, including the three immediately above them, but they will feel they should have been clear on points in fifth place after playing for a little more than half an hour against ten men, and after Sam Gargan had equalised Simon Parker’s first half opener with sixteen minutes left the relative ambitions of both sides were demonstrated as U’s pushed for a winner that so nearly arrived when Gargan’s shot hit the inside of the post, while Tooting striker Paul Vines, presented in injury time with the chance to launch a counter attack that, had it produce a goal would have left U’s with no time to recover, chose instead to run the ball towards the corner flag and use up time."

Phew!

This post was kindly brought to you by Mrs Phillips.

The cauliapple

I would like to announce the arrival of a new kind of fregetable, which will debut on page 38 of our hallowed magazine tomorrow.

To the uninitiated, the picture may appear to be of some rotten apples, while the caption says "unlabelled cauliflowers were found at the premises".

"They've made a giant balls-up!" you may cry.

But no, dear reader, we are simply - and without drama - bringing you a new species. The unlabelled cauliapple.

Note: the cauliapple cock-up was brought to you by a triangular breakdown in communication between subs, art and hacks.
Group hug!

The keyboard strikes back

Note to self: if the 'O' on your keyboard is a little bit dodgy (possibly due to a Hula Hoop fragment getting lodged under there during a fit of press day comfort eating), adjectives such as 'countless' are loaded with danger.

Spelling test!

Have a go at Miss Spell's Class, courtesy of Dictionary.com.

It had the cheek to give me a grade B the first time! Not, may I hasten to add, that I got any of the spellings wrong, but because I took 98 seconds (Vince interrupted me with work-related demands halfway through - precisely the kind of behaviour for which we christened him The Bastard in the first place).

My best so far: 34 seconds.

Ah, g'wan!

Press day madness

Reader, there was no possibility of writing a blog that day.

A heavy haspiration

The first work email I get this morning is from the Chief. It is short and to the point:

"a: it's a hotel, a historic, not an hotel, an historic."

I beg to differ, Brighton Argus style guide (now online)

Aside from the worries I have about the mental health of a man who spends his spare time reading style guides for local newspapers of cities he doesn't live in (and he's not even a sub!), I thought this was an interesting gripe.

Before I continue, let's just point out that aspiration (a kind of short pant!) is important in this debate. To aspirate, says the OED, is to produce a sound with an exhalation of breath. So, if we're talking h-wise, hotel, happy and Hove are aspirated, but heir and honour are not. Hot!

Fowler's says, rather charmingly:

Opinion is divided over the form to use before h-words in which the first syllable is unstressed: the thoroughly modern thing to do is to use a (never an) together with an aspirated h (a habitual, a heroic, a historical, a Homeric, a hypothesis), but not to demur if others use an with minimal or nil aspiration given to the following h (an historic, an horrific, etc).

No demurring, you old-fashioned types!

The Times Style Guide, however, supports the Chief.

use an before unaspirated h - an heir, an honest woman, an honour; also, prefer an hotel to a hotel, an historic to a historic, an heroic rather than a heroic

Kit and I err on the side of the modern on this one. We are sticking to a historical event, a habitual tic, etc. But I'll admit to the occasional wistful sigh.

A little trivia on the subject, courtesy of Fowler's:

Three special cases:
an hotel (with no aspiration on the second word) is now old-fashioned, but by no means extinct.

In humble, the h was originally mute and the pronunciation prevailed until the 19c, but is now obsolete: it should therefore be preceded by a, not an.

In American English, herb, being pronounced with silent h, is always preceded by an, but the same word in British English, being pronounced with an aspirated h, by a.

Bet this post has got y'all aspirating heavily...

Chief sub: on hyphens

"It's one of those small joys in life, the difference in meaning a tiny little hyphen can make. Kind of proof of the divine."

The future perfect continuous passive

Thank you, Chief!

Headlines make headlines

Everyone is talking about headlines, it seems.

David Marsh, The Guardian's style guide editor, took on cliches today, in his Mind your language column, while yesterday Sally Baker, feedback editor at The Times, discussed the tricksiness of summing up a story accurately in a headline, in her Feedback column.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, we are still reeling from the stray "bogging" that made it into the blogging feature in this week's issue. Eek.

Made-up words

On occasion, I discover that a word I had always thought existed is in fact a figment of my imagination. Does anyone else have these?

To misle - until quite recently, I believed there was such a word, because of all the times I had read "he misled her", etc. And I gave it a slightly sneakier meaning than 'mislead' - more along the lines of 'hoodwink' (which is an excellent word!).

And a couple of other similar things I'll own up to:

Misunderestimate - a mating of misunderstand and underestimate. I've never actually written this one, but when I'm speaking of misunderstandings and underestimations, it's always lurking there waiting to spring out.

Survery - my fingers won't let me type 'survey' without inserting an 'r'. Perhaps a hangover from that long-ago dissertation on slavery? Or perhaps I have a subconscious obsession with serveries.

Anyone else care to confess?

Bovine TV

Someone, about two metres to my left, just wrote the headline:

Culling won’t stop bovine TV, says study

Oopsie! Um... TB!

Romance: decimated?

On Saturday night, I presented a handsome man with a Champagne truffle. Just one, you ask? Yes, just one. But it was a large one. So large, in fact, that anyone trying to bite into it would have looked (rather unromantically) a bit like a suckling pig. Being a gentleman, the recipient opted instead for a knife and a plate, intending to elegantly slice the truffle into small pieces that could be shared. However, upon the first application of the knife, the truffle shattered/crumbled/burst into a heap of (very tasty, thank you Montezuma's) crumbs.

"you've decimated it!" I cried.

"Decimated it?" asked he, with a look of undisguised I've-got-her-now glee. "What do you think decimated means?"

It was then that I realised the truffle gift was nothing compared with what I had just done. This was the real gift!

I had thought that 'to decimate' meant to destroy, particularly when something is reduced to small pieces. However, knowing that he knew something I didn't, I had a go. Decimate - decimal... I ventured that perhaps it meant to divide by 10.

Nearly. According to my truffling companion, the word comes from a Roman military practice. If a legion was lacking in discipline, the rulers would kill one in every 10 of the soldiers. This restored order, apparently.

But that's not the end of the story. Reunited with my OED this morning, I discovered it wasn't quite so simple.

Decimate:

1. kill, destroy, or remove a large proportion of. Drastically reduce the strength or effectiveness of.
2. (historical) kill one in every 10 of (a group of people) as a punishment for the whole group.
   

Usage:

Historically, the meaning of the word decimate is 'kill one in every ten of (a group of people)'. This sense has been more or less totally superseded by the later, more general sense 'kill or destroy (a large proportion of)', as in the virus has decimated the population. Some traditionalists argue that this and other later senses are incorrect, but it is clear that this is now part of standard English.

So I was wrong-ish, but not far off. I had meant to convey that he had shattered the truffle, rather than killed or totally destroyed it. And he was right, but labelled a 'traditionalist'.

Ah, sweet romance.

The milk bomb

The first thing I do when I arrive at work today is open the fridge, with the intention of putting my lunch in it. Unbeknownst to me, the fridge is a ticking dairybomb, just waiting to be detonated. On the inside, a glass bottle of milk (full, but not sealed) teeters on the bottom ledge, waiting for a bleary-eyed Monday-morning sub to set it free. And I do, wreaking milky mayhem upon the world.

Good morning everyone, it's Monday - hurrah!

danglers

I love a good dangling participle. The name alone makes me smirk. Check it out:

“Consumers are very clear on what Fairtrade means and they understand that, by buying Fairtrade products, the producers in developing countries see real benefits,” says [Fairtrade person].

Canya tell what it is yet?

In this sentence, to the grammatically anal, it is the producers who are buying the Fairtrade products – and consumers are very clear on this.

Let me dig out some more... The TalkTalk dictionary (who knew there was such a thing?) offers up the following:

Walking back home yesterday, a tree nearly fell on my head.

If properly secured, you shouldn't be able to remove the cover.

Here, the tree is walking home rather than the person, and the person is properly secured and therefore unable to remove the cover.

Fowler's Modern English Usage offers, from a speech made by Lord Belstead on Radio 4 in 1988 following the resignation of Lord Whitelaw as Leader of the House of Lords (I do sometimes question the word 'Modern' in the book's title!):

Being unique, I am not going in any way to imitate him.

He meant Lord Whitelaw was unique, obviously. But the position of the participle ('being') at the start of the sentence, automatically links to the subject in the following clause ('I').

And some funny ones, from TwoBells.com:

Leaping off the cliff, I saw the mountain goat land safely 20 feet below me.

Running with courage in their veins and determination in their hearts, the beaches around Troy were soon overrun by Achilles and his Myrmidons.

Meheheh.

My own attempt at being funny:

Applying a second coat of lipstick, he thought again how beautiful she was.

To avoid 'em is simple: just make sure the first word of the sentence applies (that's the participle) to the first word after the comma (that's the subject).

Sneakily posting my blog, I kept one ear open for an editorial approach from the rear.
Listening to Mike singing the praises of his Pantone mug, I had a sudden realisation that he was as much of a nerd as me. Just in the design world.

Enough!

I leave you with this, a sentence to which I was so tempted to add the word 'international', just for good measure.

Only 2% of global world supply of cocoa is currently certified.

Show showers

My mother dearest texts to tell me that the Metro has made a booboo this morning. Because that is the kind of conversation we have!

Centre front (my mum says - think that means on the cover...)

An office worker battles through a show shower

In other news, it's press day, we are one sub down, and my cheek has - for some unknown reason - swollen up like a chipmunk's.

Self-cannibalisation

A quick peer into the eerie world of PR. Asked what the significance of their new chocolate bar was, a large and well-known company replied:

In tests, the chosen variants showed high reach, and frequency in addition to incremental occasions, while also showing a low level of self-cannibalisation.

Now I know what they mean... but when you are trying to sell your tasty new snack, surely anything that conjures up an image of gnawing at one's own flesh should be avoided?

It continues:

Our consumers are living in a time-starved world and are constantly balancing the value from their time.

Time-starved, eh? All the more reason to... eat a chocolate bar?

And more:

We exist to make you smile, so we’ve made a new range of products of even more of the delicious ingredients you love added in.

And there was me thinking it was all about money. Ahh, but it's smiles! Love it.

Oh. And. Note to self. It is programme. Programme. No skimping on the m and the e! Program is for Americans. Programme for us Brits. Unless we are talking computer programs, in which case we come over all a bit yankee. But otherwise, programme, programme, programme!

three dots

Those three little dots are driving me mad.

Three dots. Space before? Space after?

The way I see it, there are two usages for the little buggers.

1. as an ellipsis, to show that something has been left out
2. to imply continuation or trailing off

In my opinion, the first should have a space before and after. "She went to ... School in Bognor Regis." And if it's at the end of a sentence, you have four dots instead - one being the full stop.

In the second case, I don't think there should be a space between the end of the sentence and the three dots. "I think it should just be allowed to trail..." In face, if there were a space before the three dots it could lead to confusion - you might think they signalled omission.

Although I can find plenty of guidance on the use of dots as ellipses, I can't find anything about the second usage.

If you know, please spill the beans (or if you just want to tell me you think I'm right - that tends to go down pretty well too)!

Hordes of discreet sub-editors...

David Marsh, editor of the Guardian's style guide, has written a column in praise of subs today. Quite right too! However, I am not entirely sure I could live up to the following claim. I'm all for subs, but can't help but think there must be more useful people to be marooned with. Bear Grylls. Sean Bean (just me?) And who wants their cry of "I have less and less reasons to live" to be met with "Do you mean 'less reason', or 'fewer reasons'?"

If you are ever shipwrecked with a journalist, God help you, Charlie Brooker might be funnier and Polly Toynbee better at explaining the advantages of the alternative vote system, but trust me: you will be much better off with a sub if you need an all-round journalist to write, edit and produce the desert island newspaper and website.

In the feedback section, I noticed, someone had a pop at the Guardian over hoard and horde. And I had a sudden panic that I didn't know the difference. I then realised I did know the difference. And I then realised that even though I knew the difference, it's a mistake I too would likely have overlooked (I let through "water metre" last week, luckily picked up by Kit in time). But no longer! So thank you to Leopold1904 and his/her scathing observations.

Here, for the unenlightened, that you may be enlightened.

hoard:
a stock or store of money or valued objects, typically one that is secret or guarded

horde:
a large group of people
an army or tribe of nomadic warriors
a loosely knit small social group

And while I'm at it, let's do discreet and discrete, too. I've been meaning to for a while.

discreet:
careful and circumspect in one's speech and actions, especially in order to avoid causing offence or to gain an advantage

discrete:
individually separate and distinct

Ahhh, that's better. Nothing like a bit of OED to start a week. Now musing on whether I should make myself a little style guide for my blog. A style guide all of my own... ooohhhh...

I know, I know...

... it's Saturday morning. But.

[Facebook friend] is off to buy a Mose's basket today

So who is this Mose, then?

A plug for James

Very impressed with James' London Weekly activity (and feeling rather bad at poking fun at him for his inventive spellings of Invincible).

So here, Mr Ball, I plug you to ALL SEVEN of my readers.

Kind readers, I give you Mr Ball and the Case of the Mysterious London Weekly.

This is how capitals look in my nightmares...

"As a Company Continual improvement and ‘nurturing’ talent are key aspects of our HR Strategy."

Bizarre caption in the Metro this morning

Under a picture of a charging rhino:

Charge! Ailsa, a six-week-old white Rhino, was born after a wildlife fan watching via webcam in Cyprus saw the mother's waters break at the Blair Drummond safari park in Stirling, Scotland.

Does that sound weird to anyone else? To me it sounds like a) she was born at six weeks, and b) she was born because the webcam watcher saw the mother's waters break. Hmm... bad brain or bad caption...

This week's favourites so far...

There is always much merriment to be had with palettes and palates, especially on a mag such as ours, which regularly mentions both. This week's offering:

Actually we know that children’s palettes develop based on what they are fed from an early age. They don’t miss what they’ve never had.

Meanwhile, in the world of vegetables, all was not well. It was, in fact, almost armageddon:

It is “one minute to midnight in terms of the destruction of UK
horticulture”, a leading vegetable grower has warned.

Okay. Now I know I am being purposefully obtuse here and that this may say more about the wrongful workings of my own brain rather than the actual clarity of the writing... but... to me...

Men, people under 34, and small basket buyers are less likely to use a loyalty card than women and older people.

Translates as:

Men, defined as people aged 34 or less, and people who buy small baskets, prefer to use women and old people than loyalty cards.

It seems I am not the only one. Webby volunteered:

Human males, of whom fewer than 34 exist, and midget purchasers of wickerware...

Someone call the men in white coats...

Oh, and then I spotted an interesting one, which has two very different possible readings.

Customers won't have to pay any more.

In this case, the writer meant "the customer won't have to pay an increased amount" - but it could equally mean "the customer no longer needs to pay". Scary.

And ps.

D'y know what I hate? "on the back of". Such and such a company made record profits, "on the back of" 5% value growth". What does it mean?? Nothing, I think... Eww. Why oh why?

Immoral spelling!

Leave a 't' out of immortality and it becomes immorality.

Thanks, Sally.

Oh, and I spotted a good slogan today. Garofalo: "Pasta You Can Taste With Your Eyes". Ouch.

And I was recommended this T-shirt. I rather like it.

A Wednesday poem

Wednesday morning
Stifled yawning
Data being questioned
By a person here unmentioned.

A sneaky little edit
Brings facts into discredit
Ball comes to protest
At Kit's URGENT behest.

'Someone' writes in Latin
His ego so to fatten
Snow is back
Thick and fat
Hope it traps me
In my flat.

I haven't forgotten...

... my promise to do just this...

The hokey pokey

You put the hyphen in you put the hyphen out
In out in out shake it all about
You do the hokey pokey and you turn around
That's what the style guide is all about...

Whoaaa the hokey pokey!

etc etc

Office musings

Today, through fingers clamped over bleeding ears, I overheard Kit and The Bastard having a proper geek-out:

And the white woman was just annoying, who was she? She might as well have been June Whitfield just in a different dress
The subtext that he was somehow the doctor's father was totally contrived
The doctor's never made such a fuss about regenerating before
Absolutely
Then they're zapping each other
Giant planet in the sky
Zappy zap zap
Master just disappears
Flying around with missiles chasing them was sort of okay
He falls through a ceiling
Plunging out the thing and smashing out the thing. That would have broken a few bones
And where was all this radiation coming from?
The timelords destroy the immortality arch, so how come there's still radiation around? And detained by a dodgy glass door.
Reset button and very ill-thought-through plot
Dr Who can do a lot better than that
And the last 20 minutes of saying goodbye - I mean he'll see them all again. He sees Sarah Jane again.
And what's Martha doing with Mickey now? Presumably he's not her type, is he?
Ridiculous, absolutely ridiculous.
And all this argument about not changing history and suddenly it's alright again.
I love Captain Jack in the Star Wars style bar.
The bit with Rose is good. How many times has she come back? And her teeth get bigger every time. It's cos she's ageing. They can bring her back as the Lady Cassandra next time.
And then the gay pickup scene. At dinner time on Christmas day. Unnecessary.
Good stuff though. Yeah.
Just like Lord of the Rings really. Return of the king. Tearful goodbyes for half an hour. But at least it only happened once.
The worst part of the David Tennant years was the bit where he zapped his hand and it went phhhew.
It's produced more good films, if you like, than...
Generally speaking the last two years have been pretty poor really.
I liked Catherine Tate.
It became so good in parts you wanted the same standard. That's the trouble really. I mean series four. The fires of Pompeii did quite well. The doctor's daughter. The unicorn and the wasp. The silence of the library, forest of the dead.
I really really like midnight as well. They're both Russell Davis as well. He's a funny writer like that.

Art desk interjects. Silence.

I have learned a new word

probity:
The quality of having strong moral principle

Does that mean I probe? Am I probish? Thought not. Boo!

Prodded into action

Fine, fine, I'll write something. But I warn you I'm in a rather humourless mood, what with being back at work after a nice long holiday and also quivering in the shadow of the landmark birthday that is soon to crash down upon me.

But while cheer is scarce, I will admit to having found a small scrap of satisfaction in a stray capital A in Sally Baker's column today. Unless it is there for a reason I haven't picked up on, in which case the last laugh is on me and I shall go and stick my head in the oven (it's alright YES THAT'S RIGHT I'M WRITING ALRIGHT AS ONE WORD, following a leaving-the-gas-on incident during the Christmas period, the offender assured me that gas was no longer poisonous). First line, third word.

Dearest reader Another set of rude retorts from the early 19th-century Times to its readers under the heading “To Correspondents”, courtesy of www.timesonline.co.uk/archive: “In answer to several correspondents, we have to state, that the Irish earl alluded to in yesterday’s Mansion-house report is the Earl of Glengall.

After that moment of self indulgence, I went on to laugh my head off (though gritted teeth) at her offerings of the Times' best typos of 2009. Here are my favourite two and the rest are here.

I’m still bemused by a not so much mixed as entirely misused metaphor in October, when we said that a tennis player’s wife who had made matters worse by slapping an umpire after an on-court row had “poured oil on troubled waters”, when we clearly meant to say that she had added fuel to the flames.

And finally, we rather took the edge off our Italian Christmas feature in December with a sub-head insisting that it consisted of “fish, foul and the very best of winter produce”.

Although neither compare with this one, which I found while plotting how to put my new year's resolutions into action. Salsa classes at The Coalition begin with a worm up, don't you know. How liberating!

And from the Chief: essential information for all spelling offenders courtesy of theoatmeal.com.

3pm update: from one of our own:

The markets would be cited in population-dense areas with easy access for both businesses and shoppers.

Substuff is now back

And subbing a story about improving the emotional resonance of dog food.

I'm not quite ready to talk about it.