A little dry, the pen of this scribe, not helped by my literary view across the arid intensity toward a forlorn horizon, and barren imaginations of a tabloid public the spawn of a tabloid press.
Fundamental red eye error in photo stops, a radio medium desperately lacking anything approaching even the bland, and old Auntie Beeb, a one time language stalwart is now presenting with presenters whose syntax has become littered with recent arrivals in the lexicon of English, primarily um, em, ah and eh, the new lyric. Only recently, I watched a breaking news item on terrorism where the correspondent used a sentence comprised entirely of these four new “words”.
But how unfair of me, as the young lady concerned would not have the benefit of autocue or indeed rehearsal, in a third world location where bullets and bombs appeared a more usual form of communication; mmmmmm (my contribution to the new dictionary!) a subsequent piece from one of her well-groomed studio colleagues proved no better with hesitant stammer introduced to this increasing vocabulary of meaninglessness.
But then I always think I can do better, I just wish they could.
Scaling that awkward peak of competence no longer seems to be a requirement, quantity with a smart veneer rather than substance commensurate with in house back slapping awards is our destination broadcast station.
Bueno, as the locals might say.
Thus I went back to the beach, wrapped myself around the cameras and dozed blissfully off and into maravilla. Seeking the presence perhaps of other word snobs propping up the bar of eloquence with whom I could at least feign a better level of understanding.
See you in a sand dune.
Surf Bum
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