A friend sent me this meme thingy. I thought it hilarious … as the more I dive into the literary domain… the more I realise that my grammar is really and truly fucked.
But I don’t give a gnats fart!!
I have been ‘corrected’ so many times, that I now have a Criminal Record in the eyes of the Grammar Police. But it amuses me endlessly. I wonder what would actually happen if everyone practiced all the nuances of the English language??
I have English teachers among(st?) my friends. I have never been aware of their perfection in mastering the tongue which which we communicate (get me!) They are definitely more eloquent than me ‘umble self.. (doffs me cap at them who is cleverer than me) …. and if I spoke like that … well people would worry that the fdcking aliens had been and taken me over!
I am proud to have a Cornish accent, and even prouder to use the quirky dialect that we own. I can never emulate the plummy intonations of my ‘superiors’ … (or so they fucking think). I have to admit that in the past I have often adopted a posher voice to impress. Complete and utter waste of sodding time in hindsight, as fortunately nowadays it’s more acceptable to have a regional identity. I’ve definitely got a telephone voice… as sometimes needs must to allow others to understand me a bit better.
But Grammar…. give me a bleddy break!
Who the hell made up this shite anyway!? Who ever passed these laws??
I almost went into an hysterical nose dive this morning … through the vagaries of how my bleddy head works.. here’s how it goes….
I am currently reading a book written by Bertrand Russell… (to be always known as Branston Russell on my head) after he came up on my list … I was, at the time, reminded that my mother held him in some regard … so thought I’d give him a go so to speak. Now I’ve learnt a bit about realism and idealism. I understood the principles. And let me tell you that I was fucking chuffed with myself…. anyways (!) this got me thinking again, about others that my mother talked about.
So … a little dalliance from the philosophical spectrum, led me into politics. She loved Lord Boothby…. so I had a quick Wiki wander. Bugger me …. we think this fucking shambles of political numpties we are dealing with at the moment are ‘speshul’?? It’s only the wonders of modern communications that highlight the shortcomings of our current political system .. scandals and corruption has always been fuckkng rife…. anyway the reason for my mornings histrionic interlude… was the description of the somewhat colourful Lord… by the late Queen Mother..
“He was s bounder, but not a cad”
WTF is the difference?? There must only be a fento hairs breadth in those two words ….. (Fento as in ‘quadrillionth’ NOT multi personality psycho… no negative aspersions being cast on our beloved, long gone Queenie)
So, there was me being a teensy weensy concerned that my lack of intelligence/education might show my ignorant arse up again to the Grammar Police… what the fuck for??
If our ‘Queens English’ Royalty can split definitions, then I feel I can split whatever fucking infinitives I like!!