School's Out

If indeed in this world of political correctness it is impossible to call a spade a spade, it should no doubt trouble you that the current crimes unfolding in the very name of the Queen's English are scandalous enough to make the Marquis de Sade blush. Mind you, he never had to network at a time management conference. Here is where, it seems, most of the trouble starts, those suited vagabonds, who wouldn't know a Great British linguistic travesty if it slapped them in the face with a big bag of fish and chips, wrapped in the Sun Newspaper with Wayne Rooney's face all over it. A well meaning gentlemen may clock your name badge and hark, 'Gerry Smith, Introspective Design... well well, it seems from the get go that we too are both offering effective IT solutions aimed at both high end enterprise and the grass roots level. Now we've touched base, how can we go forward? Here's my card, the board and I have knocked heads on some practical-based blue sky initiatives and specs which look set to exceed our estimated quarterly financial targets." He'll probably then ask you to 'do lunch' and pocket the VAT receipt.

Education has certainly enjoyed a disillusionment of grammatical proportions for some years now, ever since children were told not to sing songs with the word 'red' in them because it might distract some passing Siberian seagulls during mating season. I refer, of course, to a new school in Sheffield that no longer want to be referred to as a 'school', and instead prefer the title 'a place of learning'. School suggests "negative connotations," says the head, who might now struggle to explain to all of the region's participating parents where their children have been all day, reading all those books and writing stuff. They probably thought they were at a Maccarno convention. But while Ms Radical is starting the word revolution from her own chalkboard, lets hope this sets a precedent in abolishing all those nouns that have really narked us over the years. I've often found the term 'jogging' mortally offensive, and prefer to don my prized slacks for a quick 'oxygenating act of forward propulsion.' And the next time you clock your mother hunched over her ironing board, be sure to congratulate her on her 'de-creasing heat expansion technique.' She might give you a funny look and ask you where you learnt all that nonsense. Not at school, that's for sure.