So-so so...

So let me begin. So have you noticed the recent requirement by some people to start every sentence with the word "so" followed by a short pause before launching into the sentence proper. So this is done whether it adds to meaning or not. So where did it come form and why? So what should we do about it?

So I first noted it about 18  months ago. At  the time I was involved in quite a few meetings with academics who all seemed to have acquired this irritating linguistic tic. They seemed unable to offer a thought without the Superfluous Initial So (SIS) as we'll call it: it's always good to have a name for your enemy. Perhaps it was the result of a virus which escaped from a test tube in a lab and spread among their close-knit community. Academics are known to live and breed together and to colonise small areas on the edge of normal towns and cities. In such circumstances high and rapid infection rates would not be surprising.

My encounters at the time went something like this:
"Good morning and how are you?" I'd say.
"So... I'm fine, thank you." They'd reply as though this momentary hesitation added some gravitas and significance to their paltry answer.
"And would you like a cup of tea or coffee?" I'd continue, hospitable as ever.
"So...yes I would please, coffee." They'd respond.
"Milk? Sugar?" I'd offer through the forced smile of my gritted teeth.
"So...milk, no sugar" they'd  venture and I would have to reply by hurling the semi-made libation into their so-irritating face before beating them around the head with the cup. It's a good thing the coffee is always served lukewarm in polystyrene containers in academic institutions.

I thought my selfless personal crusade was slowly succeeding as I soon noticed that several academics with stained shirts were no longer using the dreaded Superfluous Initial So, and looked around warily before even uttering the word  in a proper context such as "there are only so many linguistic and social pretensions a man can take before resorting to..." I'm sure you get the picture.

However, my attempts to defend humanity and the English Language did not succeed. The wretched thing had taken hold and spread. Soon the Superfluous Intial So was sissing from my radio on every morning talk show and in every news bulletin. It was worse and more galling even than the insistence of meteorological staff on referring to the topmost part of the Irish land mass as "Northen Island", instead of Ireland (a matter of which the Director General has been duly informed and for which he thanked me for the first three of my seventeen letters).
   
The PR world became the next victim of the infestation. Spokesmen (and spokeswomen, or spokespersons, if you prerer, or just plain spokes is perhaps best and simplest all round) from a variety of organisations selling animal welfare, miracle drugs, dodgy statistics and the outpourings of  a plethora of thinktanks were suddenly soing all over the place.

" So... the  country's going down the tubes."
" So... the economy's never been better"
" So...we're all in this together."
" So...the reason we should all eat more bilgeberries..."

The deluge only subsided when I hurled John Humphreys and co against the kitchen wall  smashing the faithful old family wireless, believed to be an original Georgian model, into several pieces of silver plate, brass and ivory.

Don't get me wrong I'm not a fanatic or a Philistine. I've nothing against words in their rightful place. I would happily sew together the lips of  any SISser, I would sow poisonous berries with which to feed them, I would describe their attempts at public communications as only so-so but I would not ever...ever, introduce an unnecessary opening monosyllable purely for the grandiose effect...that would be bad manners and a betrayal of all that is good, noble and oaken-hearted in the English language.

I felt sure the accursed SIS must be of some devilish foreign derivation. My spies soon brought me word of a possible link to the German "Also", pronounced Al-Zo and usually translated as "thus" and thus also likely to be used quite properly at the beginning of  a sentence ,especially when constructing an argument...exactly as an academic might! Could it be that the plague began overseas, picked  up by innocent visitor to the International Symposium On Something Or Other (ISOSOO)?   Or worse , was it the latest dastardly invasion plan of the dreaded Teuton? An insidious scheme to slowly and surely infiltrate the English language slipping in first, the odd, apparently innocent, monosyllable and then moving on until finally our mouths and minds would be stuffed with phlegm-inducing polysyllabics stretching out further and further in highly-regulated ranks which would make it impossible for an Englishman (or woman, or spokes)  to speak their mind simply and clearly ever again! 

So what can we do to rid the language of this irritating and pompous affectation which serves no useful purpose (except maybe to expose its proponents to the ridicule and contempt they deserve from  those wise and sensitive souls who know better)?

As ye so so shall ye reap, I thought and I promptly began exporting English words surreptitiously into German usage. Weekend, Shopping, Sandwich; all were launched under cover of the night and quickly found their mark. Caravan and Shepherd's Pie have admittedly, met with less success but the struggle continues apace, I now have a band of faithful  followers who are going even further and seeking to spread English words and even foodstuffs into Germany. I tell you now, our dictionary shall not rest in our hand till we have Bill and Gerald's Ham in Merkel's Green Unpleasant Land.
So... there!

It's Going Mad Gone Mad!

What is the world coming to these days! Is there no end to the insanity of it? Actually there soon will be  whether you like it or not. New rules proposed by the European Union, endorsed by the United Nations and backed by a conspiracy of multi-national corporations, trade unions and assorted radical loonies, would require anybody wishing to go mad to apply to Brussels in triplicate three months in advance, with a doctor's certificate showing suitable grounds for intended insanity, likely duration of madness and economic impact of requested episode. Permission is unlikely to be granted for most decent law-abiding Brits!

And even if it is, you'll have to pay for the privilege! A so called Insanity Compensatrory Premium or Mad Tax will be levied to cover the cost of any anticpated treamtent (chalk placebo pills, padded wall hangings and/or strait jacket,) damage to walls (from head butting) and carpet (from chewing) in official buildings, hospitals etc.

Whatever happened to a citizen's inalienable right to be stark, staring bonkers, when and wherever it suited them? Surely this was what the British Empire was built on - generations of mentally unbalanced, socially inadequate public school boys of the officer class and their demented underlings deluding themselves that they knew better  than anybody else how to run the world. Why change all that?

Time was when even infants were free to "throw their toys out of the pram",  shoppers could go "off their trolley" and even vegetarians could be "nuts" without asking anyone's permission. Under these proposals not even driving instrructors can be "driven crazy" any more-- unless they've got permission from a faceless, overpaid, pcpusher  with a gold-plated pension who probably reserves himself the right to to go howling at the moon in his thickly-carpeted, wood panelled, public-paid office whenever he feels like it! Is that fair?!! No!!!

In this age of unbridled bureaucratic meddling our good old-fashioned traditonal approach to madness is under serious threat. No longer will we be allowed to just shuffle over to another seat on the bus or smile weakly and make our excuses while agreeing that the Daily Mail has got it right. It never bothered us before that half the country was doolally, why should it now?  I'll tell you why. Because those evil, lying, parasitic, good for nothing Eurocrats are on an international job-creation scheme for themselves and their cronies, "measuring" everything, developing "policies",  drawing  up "regulations" that are, in fact, no more than a huge scam to take  money from our pockets to put into their vast salaries and even vaster pension pots, and that's not even mentioning their even vaster expenses!   

We've uncovered some of the details of their evil  scheme. In order to minimise costs targets will be set and quotas applied to the number of people allowed to go mad at  any one time. Once the loony bins are full, earlier occupants will be forced out, off benefits and made to work for Con-Dem think tanks, since it's proved difficult to get sane people involved in this growth area for long. Unauthorised madness will be ignored and victims  will be expected to carry on working as before. There has been some concern raised about possible issues in relation to air-traffic control, trident submarines, nuclear power stations and the like but these have been swept under the carpet..along with what little COMMON SENSE these Eurodrones can muster.

Well it's not good enough! The fightback starts here!! This is a rallying call!!! We urge all good, honest decent, somewhat-batty-and-occasionally-barking Britons to oppose this going mad gone mad!!!! Stand up straight, put your finger in your ear and shout out loudly and proudly":
"I'M MAD AS HELL AND I'M NOT GOING TO PAY FOR IT...OR FILL IN ANY FORMS, SO THERE. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!! 

Songs for Chilean Miners!

Hurrah, the miners are safe! Those 33 plucky human moles have been rescued and brought to the surface in a  heart-warming saga we've all shared. Just for once, good news actually made the news around the world. We've watched the drama unfold, witnessed the happy ending, now perhaps we can afford ourselves a little humour by considering the soundtrack the miners might have enjoyed (or not) during their enforced sojourn in the underworld. What were they humming or singing to keep up their spirits? What well-known songs crept into their heads and refused  to go away?
    Obviously, Lee Dorsey's  "Working Down a Coalmine"  is a starting point we can't ignore. Descending half a mile below ground they probably had their daily sing along to "Down, Down (Deeper and Down) by Status Quo", or perhaps "Going Underground" by the Jam was a favourite with some.   
    After the rock fall and the terrifying realisation they were trapped, they must have gone straight for "Help" (Beatles) followed quickly by a frantic "We Gotta Get out of this Place" (Animals etc). But as hours rolled into days without contact from the surface their plaintive thoughts may have turned to "Don't Leave Me This Way" (Communards, Gloria Gaynor) with the growing sense that  there "Ain't no Sunshine" (Bill Withers, Michael Jackson) and "Black Night" (Deep Purple) was indeed a long way from home. One or two of the lads may even have been humming Aretha's "Rescue Me"as they began to appreciate they were truly "Stuck In the Middle  With You" (Stealer's Wheel).
    As they realised they were in for "A Hard Day's Night" (Beatles again) the phycial aspects of life in a cave must have become more and more pressing; the "Yellow River" (Christie) a constant problem! And the psychological pressure must have been intense,  to the point where denial set in and  one miner may have burst out "I Don't Wanna Talk About It." (Crazy Horse, Nils Lofgren, Rod Stewart).
    Once contact was made with the surface things improved immediately. Yazz and the Plastic People provided the new anthem "The Only Way Is Up".  From there on the rescue operation moved so quickly it was almost plain "Sailing" (Sutherland Brothers, Rod Stewart again). 
    When then Phoenix capsule arrived in the cave the first miner leapt in and sang  out "Start Me Up" (Rolling Stones). As he slowly ascended his thoughts turned to his wife and family and  the comfort and joy waiting for him above after all those days among his grim and gritty compadres.Yes, he was thinking about "Love in an Elevator" (Aerosmith). 
   Finally, He reached the surface, emerging to bellow "I'm Free" (Who, Daltrey) before he realised his wraparound shades were insufficient protection from the fierce sun.
"Doctor, My Eyes" (Jackson 5, Jackson Browne) he gasped, but then smiled as he saw his wife and realised that,finally,he could "Reach out and Touch Somebody's Hand"(Diana Ross).

   The miners' ordeal is bound to become a Hollywood movie before too long. I see it as a Baz Luhrman musical a la Moulin Rouge and I think we may have already given him a few ideas to get working on!