Why? Just fucking why?
It is your native fucking tongue, the words you should use to effectively converse with people, convey your requirements or feelings and generally be useful in the world. It's something we are taught by our parents from a young age, and then by our various schools as we drift towards adulthood.
So why is it that so many people in this country are so fucking bad at it?I have heard better English from the migrants in Calais than I see typed on Facebook on a daily basis, I swear to God it is unfathomable how bad people can be at speaking or writing the Queen's English.
I am far from perfect in my spelling and grammar, but at least I have a basic understanding of words, how and when to use them and even how to spell them correctly. But some of the oxygen thieves we have roaming our rolling green landscapes and financial powerhouse cities is nothing short of gobsmacking.
The App
I am currently looking into developing an app that will hopefully rid us of a few thousand mouth breathers overnight, it is called the spelling isis(t). The premise is simple, the app sits on your tablet, phone or computer and when you log in to a social media app you are confronted by the following screen.
This app will be the saviour of the English language, and you can thank me later. The idea is simple, once isis(t) is added to your phone it is impossible to delete, each attempt will apply another question to the social media unlock screen.
Once you tap your Facebook or Twitter icon the spelling isis(t) will spring into life and inform you that you must pass a basic English test to continue sharing your utter fucking drivel on social media, the shit that makes people want to kill you. And if you're questioning whether this app is aimed at people like you...... it probably is.
The questions will be similar to the following:
Q1) Insert the correct word into the following sentence, choose from there, they're or their
I will be _____ shortly, have they got ____ money for the drugs they want?
Q2) Insert the correct word into the following sentence, choose from his, He's or hes.
Do you have ___ phone number? I'd like to phone him about a pitbull he is selling.
Q3) please solve the following anagram
muoth braether
Q4) What does the following word mean.....?
'Fraud', is it:
A) Something you eat.
B) Something that happens to clothes when they wear thin.
C) The way you 'earn' more money than somebody who works because you milk the fuck out of the benefit system.
Once you answer 3 correct questions your social media account will open and you'll be free to share with the world what colour pants you have on, how many times your child has been sick out of his/her nose or what you're having for fucking dinner.
If you fail however, a message is sent to the local terrorist organisation who will visit your house and cut your hands off, this will render your fucking bullshit spouting days over in a heartbeat.
As I said, you're welcome.
The day I blamed a child!
So.... I was working the other week, and I had a bad stomach ache. It was early in the day so there weren't many customers around so I thought I might be able to squeeze out a cheeky bottom burp. Just as I was about to 'let it go' a young lad walked down the area I was in and stood quite close to me.
Unfortunately the launch procedure had already been initiated and there was no abort code in sight so I decided I just had to go with it. I can't even lie, it was fairly loud and had the consistency of a lumpy spectral custard. The child looked at me in utter disgust, I looked at him with a face that was half apology and half pride, and then a voice roared from round the corner.
Mumzilla: "JAAAAAAMES, You disgusting little boy!"
Poor James: "But mum......"
Mumzilla: "But mum nothing, you make me want to be sick!"
I did feel briefly guilty that this poor lad had been berated by his incredibly scary mother, so I quickly considered my options.
Me: "Don't be too hard on him, sometimes it is unavoidable".
James looked me up and down and as he made eye contact with me shot me a look that will never leave me, I actually think that in years to come he might see me walking down the street and mow me down in his Vauxhall Nova.
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