January 31, 2009
The Queens English
England’s second-largest city has decided to drop apostrophes from all its street signs, saying they’re confusing and old-fashioned.
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England’s second-largest city has decided to drop apostrophes from all its street signs, saying they’re confusing and old-fashioned.
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“the he said turn left at Saint Pauls Square…or was it Saint Paul’s?”
Err…not sure where that “the” came from.
As some of you know, the absence of apostrophes bothers me a good deal less than the misplacement of apostrophes. Still, these ignorant fucking fuckers are forcing me to fly across the damned world while I have the flu in order to set things straight. I am not pleased.
Phil and Lucy, I’ll be in Birmingham if you want to swing over for a drink. Otherwise, just watch for me on the evening news.
Cocksucking apostrophobes.
thank god! I was worried you’d ransack our place because of the missing apostrophe in the title.
Those Brit’s are in deep trouble — they dont have a clue about the world of pain theyre going to experience. Cindy takes her apostrophes’ pretty seriously.
Cindy, you’re not well – stay wrapped up and send me very precise instructions of what to do and where to do it. Lucy is in London – I am at your disposal!
I have a marker pen and a large bat to deal with the culprits.
Too late–she’s gone, Chief.
Daryl – I shall resort to plan B – just pulling on my drinking pants and heading for Birmingham.
This is a terrible pity.
It’s about all we have left and we can’t even take care of that!
Phil, tell everyone for miles around to evacuate, NOW! Hell’s a poppin’ and there’s no stoppin’ it!
Best I figure you got twenty-four hours.
Rick, I’m there, I’m there now! I’m not sure how many apostrophes I have marked in, I’m scared – I swear Birmingham has no idea. What does she drink (Daryl, help me on this) how can we slow her down? Do we want to slow her down?
Holy Crap! It’s Revelations! Horsemen! And Damnation! We’re locking ourselves in the basement! Danny! Grab the frozen foods!
Rick, fuck the frozen food – grab that box of apostrophes, we need something to throw to her!
I’m in London and I can see the seven horns from here.
Delay. Cold-cocked flight attendant for saying “very unique.” In the Bastille. Need lawyer.
Oh, dear. Testimony from an immortel of the Académie française might spring you had the flight attendant said “trés unique”. But “very unique”? Jurisdictional overlap may well delay your release.
Whew! Apocalypse deferred! Whew! PTL! Cindy rest easy. There’s no denying your righteousness. Times-a-comin’ to bring the judgement. Will I be on the sheep side or the goat side?
Cindy? Either’s fine, just want to know where I stand.
Well, everything worked out just fine. Those French guards are sweet–they liked my shoes and let me out early for good behavior. What’s more, Jacques and Yves promised to take care of the English infidels for me, so that I could return home and get some rest. Much like your kind offer, Phil, except that they’re, you know, French.
Rick, I’m not sure exactly how these things work in terms of goats and sheep, but off-hand I’d say you’re on the goat side. I like goats. Sheep make me kind of nervous.
Cindy, how was the food?
Oh, very nice. I started crying when they brought me eggs, so Yves prepared a lovely ratatouille with crusty bread and good butter, paired with a nice pinot noir.
How did I know? How did I know it would be Yves and not Jacques? Oh, never mind. But I knew.
Yves is the touchyfeely one. Jacques is the jouster. He doesn’t talk much.