I was pleased to learn from yesterday’s issue of Stylist that it’s now possible to buy ant-anxiety drugs. It made up for the startlingly unpleasant image conjured up by the sperm doner on the previous page.
Category: Language
A new decade
If I hear one more person say that if they hear one more person say that this is the start of a new decade they shall scream, I shall scream.
Yes, I understand basic maths, so I understand that because there was no year 0, technically every decade starts when the year ends in a 1. And here’s the thing: I don’t care. The numbering of our years in tens and hundreds and thousands is entirely arbitrary to begin with, and if we invented it, we get to decide how to use it. Convention and instinct tell us that the change from 2009 to 2010 is more exciting and more worthy of recognition than the change from 2010 to 2011, and they are correct. And if we start our decades with a 1 and end them with a 0, does, say, the year 1930 no longer count as part of the 1930s? Because that way lies crazy, missus.
So when the next person tells you smugly that the new decade doesn’t start for another year, please bop them on the nose and tell them I said it was OK. These people have too much time on their hands. Perhaps we should make decades shorter for their benefit.
Lightning fail
I wish that more people knew the difference between “lightning” and “lightening“, but even more than that, I wish that Hello magazine hadn’t got it wrong in the headline “The Obamas’ Lightening Trip to Denmark”.
(I read the article in question over somebody’s shoulder on the Central Line and I can’t find it online, but I will endeavour to buy a copy tomorrow so I can scan in the proof.)
A question of terminology
The Today programme’s top news item this morning was the non-story that antenatal diagnoses of Down’s Syndrome are on the rise, partly because women are having babies later in life and partly because screening methods have improved over the last twenty years.
None of this seems very surprising, and I wasn’t sure why it was given top billing, unless the editors at Today are part of that humorous crowd who think that women are putting off parenthood because we’re selfish and (even worse) feminists, rather than because we think it’s important to have (a) careers which we can go back to now that one income cannot support a family and (b) relationships which are likely to last, our parents’ generation having been the first to see divorce as an acceptable alternative to unhappiness, and we as a result having seen more than our fair share of acromonious break-ups – and experienced at first-hand the effect they have on children. Or perhaps the Daily Mail would rather we get pregnant at the earliest opportunity and stay at home claiming benefits while we bring up our children single-handedly.
Sorry, where was I? Oh yes, Down’s Syndrome. It’s a sensitive subject because people’s responses to the idea of bringing up a child with Down’s vary wildly, and because it’s hard to know what one’s own response is likely to be until it happens. It’s probable, though, that there were people listening this morning who are wondering whether to have the test, or, having had it and received a Down’s diagnosis, are thinking about whether to continue with their pregnancy. That being the case, you would expect the programme to treat the subject with care.
In the segment I heard, John Humphrys interviewed Joan Morris, one of the researchers who had provided the latest statistics, and Jane Fisher of Antenatal Results and Choices (ARC), and I was struck by his repeated use of the word “abortion”, when both women used the less emotive alternative, “termination”. The two words have the same literal meaning, but “abortion” has developed a second metaphorical meaning of something ugly or awful, and in my mind it’s ready to be discontinued in its sense of ending a pregnancy. But a bit of googling reveals that that opinion is by no means universal, and I realise that just because a word has taken on a certain weight for me, it doesn’t mean it holds the same associations for other people.
There’s no guidance in the BBC’s style guide on the use of the word “abortion”; nor is there in the Guardian’s (my preferred source of arbitration, because it seems to have been written by real people who have spent time thinking about it). So I wonder: is my response to the word an unusual one, or is it genuinely dropping out of use? Is there a turning point at which we can say “this word is no longer considered appropriate”? And how can that measurement be taken? It’s all interesting stuff, and I think I’ll take a bit of time to find out more about words which have fallen out of currency, and whether it’s possible to reconstruct the process by which it happens.
But back to this morning’s show, into which Humphreys still managed to inject a bit of his customary heavy-handedness. Joan Morris had explained that although the percentage of parents who choose to terminate a Down’s pregnancy has remained stable, the number of terminations has increased in line with the higher number of diagnoses. Jane Fisher added that this was not new information, since we already know that more pregnancies are resulting in Down’s diagnoses, and that a certain proportion of those end in terminations. At this point Humphrys jumped in with “does that imply that you think too many women are having abortions?”, which apart from bearing no relationship to what either woman had said, was an extraordinarily crass attempt at creating controversy where there wasn’t any.
I always feel a little as though I’m watching Chris Morris starting a war between Australia and Hong Kong when I listen to John Humphrys on Today. It irritates me when I can’t hear what guests are saying because he’s drowning them out by arguing every point, however insignificant. But irritating your listeners is one thing. Attempting to scare up a controversy over a subject that is already difficult, and about which many listeners will have strong personal feelings, is pointless and unforgivable. I wish they’d retire him from the radio and leave him to present Mastermind, where I think he does an admirable job (unlike Paxman, whose feigned astonishment whenever a University Challenge team fails to answer a question he thinks they should know grows more wearisome every week).
Asterisks
Ocado gave me their customary free copy of the Times this weekend. I like the Times, and would probably buy it over – or as well as – the Guardian, if only it weren’t owned by that awful little man.
But reading an article on The Thick of It reminded me that the Guardian is still the only paper with a grown-up attitude towards swearing. When you’re printing long quotes from the script, asterisking out every other word renders it almost unreadable and stamps heavily on any humour that might have once lurked in the lines.
It also introduces an ambiguity about what was actually said, which in some cases makes it sound worse than it really is. The missing c-word in the quote below is actually “cock”, but the asterisk version allows the reader to infer an alternative which is much more unpleasant and a lot less funny:
“I will remove your iPod from its tiny nano-sheath, and push it up your c***. And then I’ll put some speakers up your a*** and put it on to ‘shuffle’ with my f****** fist…”
Thus the Times’s attempt at protecting our delicate sensibilities actually makes the joke more offensive. I would also hazard a guess that anyone interested in a piece about The Thick Of It can probably cope with a few swears.
Annoying advert
I keep seeing this on various US blogs:
I’m annoyed that I have to look at “flat belly” ads at all, but I’m ten times more annoyed by that first “of”. Is it a standard US usage now? Can we ask them to stop?
The horror
I would like to propose a moratorium on the use of emotive language in news reporting. I expect it from the tabs, but I don’t need proper news providers talking to me about “the tragic death of Baby P” or “a catastrophic drop in numbers of cuckoos”. Tell me the facts, and let me decide how tragic or catastrophic they are. Tell me about the preventable death of a child, or an unforeseen drop in numbers of cuckoos, and let me choose where to place them on my own scale of tragedy. Give me the information, and allow me to make the value judgement.
Fiction
You can do more and more interesting things with creative writing online than you can in any other medium. Check here and here to see why I’m right.
I am still writing a terrifically witty story based on the marriage of Leo Tolstoy, which has been in my head since 1991 and in draft form since 2005. I’ll let you know just as soon as it’s finished.
Small things which have mildly annoyed me today
1. The use of the phrase “From whence…” in The Suspicions of Mr Whicher. From where, or whence. Not an illiterate combination of the two. It irritates me when highly-praised books have small and obvious errors in them (though so far I’m afraid I’m also failing to see why this one has had any praise at all. It’s all very well having a fantastic story to tell, but – call me old-fashioned – I still think that for it to be a success you also need to be able to write).
2. A mockup of a web page in which the designer had used the following sample text:
Lorem ipsum lorem ipsum lorem ipsum lorem ipsum lorem ipsum lorem ipsum lorem ipsum lorem ipsum lorem ipsum lorem ipsum lorem ipsum lorem ipsum lorem ipsum lorem ipsum lorem ipsum lorem ipsum
Lorem ipsum is a nonsense language which you use when you’re designing web (or printed) pages so that you can see how they will look with text in them. The WHOLE POINT is that it replicates the effect of actual words, because it contains strings of different lengths. Google it and you’ll find it’s freely and abundantly available on the internet. It looks like this:
Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit. Nam pretium magna at odio. Praesent velit. Fusce accumsan turpis. Mauris orci turpis, fringilla vitae, blandit nec, tempus sed, nisi. Sed vitae ligula.
In the example above all the designer has done is demonstrate that he has no idea what he’s doing. I admit that this might annoy me less if he were someone whom I thought had any idea what he was doing the rest of the time.
One day, when I am in charge of the internet and all book publishing, everything will work better. In the meantime I will stoically continue to correct errors of omission, oversight and stupidity, free of charge. You’re welcome.
Merde!
Swearing alert
I’ve just spent a week in the south of France, in a tiny attic apartment with a doddery old TV on which we could, with careful angling of the arial, receive three separate channels. We watched quite a lot of films; some made in French, others dubbed from English (including an exceptionally silly Clint Eastwood film which I now discover is called Absolute Power and which I urge you to seek out at the first opportunity).
Anyway, the main fact I took away from watching French films was that the French use merde like the English use fuck, which is to say in every context and part of speech imaginable. Where we have fucking, fucked, fuckwit, fucker and other variations (I’m sure you can think of some of your own), the French have more incarnations of merde than I’d ever suspected. My favourite is the verb “enmerder” – literally, “to beshitten”, which I think we should adapt into English immediately.
