spelling

My spelling goes from bad to wosre

It was embarrassing enough to spell embarrassing wrongly in the recent spelling test, but things took a turn for the worse when I had a request late in the afternoon to write a book review for the local paper (“any chance of it by tomorrow?”).

I’d just finished reading a PG Wodehouse for the zillionth time and I can bang on endlessly about how great Wodehouse is  – luckily the Surrey Mirror didn’t mind which book I chose – so I got down to it and turned out the required number of words before bedtime.

On more than one occasion in the Jeeves & Wooster stories, Jeeves refers to his simple-minded employer as “mentally negligible”. In repeating this gentlemanly insult I managed to spell it as “neglible”. I noticed it on re-reading what I’d sent and sent apologetic correction blaming the tight deadline. How apt though – who’s the mentally negligible one now?

And I thought I could spel!

Just took an online spelling test on www.peopleperhour.com. It’s one of various tests you can take to show your proficiency in various activities. The results then get posted on your profile to show how good (in theory!) you are at what you do.

40 spelling questions. I scored 98% (or 39 out of 40), which isn’t at all bad, especially since I whizzed through them all in 10 minutes, but at the time I thought I had them all right. I have a nasty feeling I put too few Rs in embarrassed. Appropriate, really, as that’s what I feel.

When mocking people’s spelling mistakes stops being funny

There are gangs of self-appointed spelling police who lurk about on Facebook looking for errors. Their aim, according to the link below, is to “publicly challenge and humiliate sloppy wordsmiths”.

The Best Obnoxious Responses To Misspellings On Facebook | Happy Place.

Happyplace.com collated loads of examples of Sloppy Spellers meeting Spelling Pedants online, and some are quite amusing.

On the other hand, some of the spelling police are effectively trolls, since they set out to bait and denigrate rather than to educate – and they appear to be targeting complete strangers in order to make their points.

But some of the exchanges contained in the link are really very funny.

+ One pedant remarked on a badly spelled post: “There are no correctly spelled words in your message… perhaps you have an involuntary movement disorder in your fingers.”

+ Another spelling troll took exception to being called a “dooshbag”, and kindly supplied the correct spelling so that he could be insulted more accurately.

+ “Margerhitas make everythuing betterr”, commented one poster, only to get the rapid response from a lurking troll: “Except spelling”.

+ Another troll wittily responded: “What a gneiss father” to a Facebook user who said her father had told her never to “take anything for granite”.

+ There was an amusing exchange when someone called Rachel announced that she was “board”. A troll wittily responded: “I’m chalk, we should get together”. Rachel sniffily replied: “BOARD. Like I don’t have anything to do. Not BORD, like a chalkbord.” Rachel went on to suggest that the troll should “learn to spellcheck”, perhaps inevitably prompting the response: “Oh god, I hope you don’t breed”.

+ And someone called Jesse proudly announced to the world “I past my test!!!”, only for a troll to comment: “I hope it wasn’t a spelling test.”

+ Sometimes the victims bite back: one wrote to his tormenter: “Got nothing better to do than troll pages looking for spelling errors… you probably haven’t been laid in 10 years.”

+ One feisty young woman, named Candace, responded: “Go dig a hole and fall in it” to a post correcting her spelling. The troll pedantically pointed out that if he had dug a hole he would already be in it and wouldn’t need to fall in. “Fine,” said Candace, “go dig a hole and die in it.”

The irrepressible troll replied that if he were about to die he would probably be unable to dig a hole. Candace, who one imagines had already lost interest in this exchange, responded tersely: “Shut up” and the dialogue concluded.

+ There can also be harsh words between those who know each other. One girl, called Nicole, took exception to her partner stating what an “amazeing girlfreind” she was – it wasn’t those spelling mistakes she objected to, but the fact that he spelled her name “Nichole”.

Much to chuckle about, in short, on this link. But I found myself rather dismayed about the way some trolls seek to make a point at the expense of people who appear to be genuinely distressed.

On reading a post saying: “My gurl gav me her pies – dunno wat 2 do next”, some wit suggested he should eat the pies, to which the poster responded: “U nasty ass.. I don’t need this shit..” explaining that he was referring to “bumps on ur dick”.

If the poster genuinely has an STD, the would-be wit of the spelling police is unhelpful and somehow a little cruel.

Other examples go further into the realms of unpleasantness. One Facebook user wrote that his girlfriend had left him, he’d fallen out with his best friend and his grandfather had died. “Its only getting worse,” he added mournfully, admitting “I need help”. A Spelling Troll popped up briefly to point out that he’d missed the apostrophe out of “It’s”. Other trolls also stepped forward to correct the spelling of two potentially suicidal posts, one from a boy who didn’t “wanna live anymo” and the other from a girl wishing “congradulations” to those who, she believed, wanted her to die.

We’ve all been tempted to correct others’ spelling: but there’s surely a line to be drawn; those who should know better, like companies, professional communicators and anyone who’s had a university education, are fair game as far as I’m concerned. But there’s something not quite nice about seeking out and criticising the personal communications of individuals who appear to be in distress, with the sole aim of scoring points.

Pic credit: Ambro, http://www.freedigitalphotos.net/images/view_photog.php?photogid=1499

Going “dogging” – and an unexpected spelling test

A hilarious moment on Saturday night at a house party attended by loads of local musicians. One of the performers, Keith, known for performing comic songs on the banjo, got up to sing a number called “Dogging”, about a couple who enjoy outdoor sex. The lyrics are very amusing and the audience were chuckling anyway - then unbeknownst to Keith, who had his back to the door, the door swung gently open and the host’s elderly German Shepherd dog wandered in and started sniffing about. Great comic timing – as more and more of the audience spotted the dog the laughter got louder and louder.

Things got even funnier when the host’s Irish Wolfhound – a great shaggy grey giant of a beast – also chose that moment to potter in. Poor Keith, concentrating on the banjo, couldn’t understand why his song was being greeted with such hilarity – OK, so it got quite a giggle when he’d performed it before but was it that funny?

“We were dogging, we were dogging,” sang Keith to gales of laughter as the Alsatian pottered about the room looking for crumbs. “We were doing much more than just snogging!” he gamely continued, baffled by the snorts of laughter as the wolfhound made its way up the room under the table, having a good sniff at the guests’ legs as he passed by.

This was the second dog-related incident of the day: I’d got up on Saturday morning to find the cupboards were bare of cat food. Much indignation among the feline residents at not being able to chow down and get their breakfast, so, amidst much pathetic mewing, I nipped out to the local country store to get supplies.

I’m never at my most intellectual first thing in the morning so I stood for a while at the pet food section trying to work out whether 3 Whiskas packs for the price of 2 was cheaper per pouch than 25% off Felix. I’d just worked out that I was rubbish at arithmetic when a random woman appeared at my side and asked if I knew how to spell “Weimaraner”.

I did, as it happens. “Oh, I thought it was spelled with a V,” she said, “I wondered why I couldn’t find any books about them,” and trotted off happily, presumably to root about among the shop’s selection of books on Building Your First Chicken Coop, How to Breed Guinea Pigs andOrganic Small-holding for Beginners for something on Weimaraners, with a W.

Anyway, no sooner had I loaded up my basket with Whiskas than she was back. “I don’t suppose you’ve got a blue one have you?” she asked. Eh? I must have looked blank. “A blue Weimaraner,” she elucidated. Had my head been on a bit more firmly I might have been able to come up with a witty response along the lines of “No, I had a Brazilian last week”, but like I say I’m never at my sharpest at the crack of dawn so I just gaped half-wittedly. It turned out she was looking for a breeder of blue Weimaraners and presumably had thought there was half a chance of me being one, based on my superior dog-related spelling ability. Wouldn’t it be great if people always thought you were an expert in a subject if you were able to spell it? Imagine the fun you could have pretending to be an anaesthetist.