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This week - Texting I am a mute Albanian born in County Kerry with Milton Keynes citizenship. I would like to teach UK kids how to text. It is very near to my native tongue. For example. “fck yoo 2 m8. ya fkg cnt. I hpe siff eats ya fkg nose rite off.” This means in Albanian, “Does your hotel have room-service and a nice view over the lawn?” Stella Mobile Dr Farquar says: My, you write better English than Henry Kissinger! Come aboard. Texting is a bit like sending an SOS by Morse code in the old days except they all had a Pyrex number 9 haircut and wore Brylcreem sending messages with an expression to what turned out to be a very disappointing toilet experience. My Mother used shorthand writing when teaching me as a child like Jeremy Beadle had to. This was a series of squiggles that meant whole phrases. I just wish she spoke to me normally without having to go through all that. Trudy Maword Dr F: Ah, yes. The Pitmans course. It was every tight-bunned girls dream to be a secretary where they could be sure of a career of chocolate éclairs, double entendres leading to unmitigated sexual harassment and being taught that an Olivetti was not an Italian moped. This system though complex was revolutionary and was taught to females in schools in the fifties and sixties as well as 18 year olds as well. This gave a new career-minded generation of women a chance to be dictated to. Much has changed today. They don’t usually listen to a fucking word I say anymore especially since they got the vote. In those days I personally brought a whole new meaning to the term ‘touch-typing’ especially the big one on the left next to Maggie with the red bloomers and pointy tits. I’m an 85 year old boy scout and I refuse to text and prefer to use two tin cans with a piece of string. Failing that, I carve small clues on trees. Phil Matoggles Dr F: Then the electric typewriter came along and nobody bothered with smoke signals anymore. A bit like when impish 70’s Glamrocker Marc Bolan went electric and it eventually caused the sudden death of baldy bipolar broadcaster John Peel. Good riddance. Thank God for texting. Otherwise, how else would we be able to choose the right brand of baked beans at Somerfield? I wish I had invented Tippex and got paid for everybody else’s mistakes. By the way, I now use emulsion left over from my bathroom. It’s cheaper and lasts longer. Matt Vinyl Dr F: Typewriters were a capital idea. Girls used the ‘wonderstuff’ Tippex to cover up their embarrassment. Personally, I would have preferred they wore underwear where I could free their ribbon and keep a tab on them. We all use a keyboard now which is more than I can say for Linda McCartney. Mmm! That bagel was nice! Isn’t texting like the American spellchecker but with more attention to the correct spelling? Jess Eton Dr F: I don’t know you. I have never met you or even know what you look like…. so don’t text me again with your mouth full …… you fat bastard. Texting proves that children in charge of an expensive mobile phone often spell disaster. Perry Perkashus Dr F: Like all American inventions, the spellchecker is about as much use as last year’s calendar and a few other mindless inventions I could mention: The water-proof towel Spellchecking? Isn’t that something every witch should do in case, like Harry Potter, they get it wrong sometimes? Fatima Cauldron Dr F: All spells are now called the food values and ingredients on items at supermarkets which bear no resemblance to what’s inside. Now that is magic. I think the American spellchecker is amazing. You misspell the word and get a whole list of unrelated words bearing no comparison to what you originally typed, proving that, if Microsoft marked my English GCSE paper last year, instead of being on my yacht off the coast in the Caribbean today I would have ended up being a gormless cunt with a job as Chief of Police in Scotland Yard. Dave Vidends Dr F: I know. As it is soon to be Christmas, I put the word ‘Noel’ in my spellchecker. The next thing I know I was surrounded by the C.I.A coupled with the F.B.I, and S.W.A.T. American Special Forces abseiled into my bungalow after throwing a smoke grenade through the kitchen window badly damaging a butter-dish. All this happened because the dodgey spellcheck came back with ‘No Oil’ as a suggestion. Consequently they thought it a covert operation and found a can of ‘3inI’ bicycle lubricant under the sink. They had me put on federal arrest for deception and concealment. I don’t what the fuss was about. I don’t even own a pushbike anymore and I use WD40 these days anyway.
see also Dr Farquar-Smith on: |
