Dear Ed …

dearedDear Ed

You've been working hard. Why don't you take the rest of the day off?

Loren Ipsum

Hi Loren

Thanks for that. I knew it was time for a break because my eyes just read the word numbering as Nuremberg. That's the kind of error beyond the ken of the average spellchecker and speaks of trials of its own. But, Loren, before I get started, do I know you from somewhere? There's something very familiar about your name. No? Oh, okay, best get on with it then.

Speaking of spellcheckers, following are a few marvels that snuck through the fine mesh on the tertiary sieve that feeds into my brain when it's in finely calibrated editing mode. (And isn't that nearly all the time?) I've highlighted each marvel just so that you know we're not playing Pin the Tail on the Donkey. Not that I have anything against donkeys. But don't rush straight to the highlighted bits because context is king (despite my accountant wanting to give that role to cashflow) and the Dear Ed eyeball-tracking widget is watching. (You haven't read the next paragraph yet, have you? I am all-seeing.)

Improved student learning outcomes were evident in NAPALM results.
For those not in the know (and for those happy they're not in the know), NAPLAN is an acronym for National Assessment Program Literacy and Numeracy, and is an Australia-wide testing program for primary and secondary students. NAPALM is not an acronym. It is not even an initialism. It's well beyond all of that.

We got a bit of a treat finishing in Le Cap d'Agde, which is a beautiful seaside resort town and Europe's largest naturist beach (where nudity is madetory).
Tories equal compulsory nudity. It's amazing how one little typo can explain every British tabloid headline you've ever puzzled over. If only the tabloids had let us know from the beginning that all those MPs' kinks were a compulsory part of the born-to-rule package, we'd all have a better understanding of British politics.

Panelbeaters Courtey Car
This is the kind of car loaned to you when your own car is down at the panelbeater's having the 'S' beaten out of it. It's a car reserved for editors (and other wordsmiths) as a form of belated revenge because you got better marks in Year 10, stayed at school, learned to love the written word and trained to beat paragraphs into shape, and they left school, learned to love unblemished duco and trained to beat panels into shape.

Topic 9: Lines, Angels and Shapes
Ah, the merging of the functional and the celestial. If only there were more of it, then we wouldn't be landed with modern buildings that look like cheese graters festooned with ironmongery that becomes distressed ten minutes before the first resident moves in.

Diseased Estate: Everything must go!
One for the garage-sale fiends up early on Saturdays. Note: You might get more than you bargain for. Just make sure that you wear gloves and cover your mouth with a face mask while you do laps of the suburbs in search of treasure. Do not, I repeat, do not sit on that imitation Biedermeier couch to test it out. And don't forget to burn your shoes and fumigate your underpants when you get home.

A leading nutritionist paid to asses complaints about food ads has broken ranks with industry.
Lots of images pop into my head, none of them polite. If you take that missing 'S' from the Courtey Car and use it to start a very common four-letter word of Anglo-Saxon origin, you can probably work out what the leading nutritionist thinks of the food industry's efforts at self-regulating their TV advertisements.

So there you have it, all of modern life in one column: nudity, napalm, Tories, fumigation and a bit of apparent nostalgia in no apparent order and making no apparent sense.

Splendiferously yours,

Edward (King of this Parish)