My husband’s favourite programme on television, to judge by what he shouts at the screen, is Grumpy Old Men. You should hear him when they sound off about automated telephone answering (‘Press 2…’, etc). I think I have caught something from him, because when I was listening to Poetry Please on the wireless, I too began to bay at the machinery.
Someone was reading ‘Jabberwocky’, and she said ‘borogroves’. I don’t blame her; this is a common misreading of borogoves. She did it both times. I do blame the producers. Someone ought to have noticed. She said ‘frabjuous’ too, for frabjous, and she pronounced tulgey with a hard ‘g’. That isn’t right, is it?
Anyway, Grumpy Old Men came to mind when I read my postbag (it has DW embroidered in maroon on it) on something about which I thought I had written enough (Mind your language, 4 October) — the remark often attributed to Goering: ‘When I hear the word culture I reach for my revolver.’
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