Educate the Masses!

A few years ago I began courting a girl as I'd recently split from another and I, subconsciously, am terrified of being single. I remember the date exactly, not because this story is particularly interesting, but because it happened to be the day I passed my driving test - first time I might add.

It was a frosty late December morning, the 29th, and I made my way from Hastings to Ashford to meet this girl. We had an average day, little happened other than watching Gavin and Stacey in her callously central-heated home - the cooling systems in place were not to turn down the thermostat, but to open windows above radiators, allowing the warmth to seep out into the Kentish suburban sprawl. So I was already annoyed. More to come...

Towards the end of the day I found myself stood in the hallway talking to the girl and her mother (for some reason mums like me, unfortunately I did not return the feelings in this case).  We were discussing a topic of unrivalled thrills and intrigue - my home village of Northiam. I ventured to describe it as quaint, to which the mother simply agreed. Unfortunately - for her at least - the girl looked confused as asked, 'What does quaint mean, mum?'. In doing so, she tumbled down in my estimations (Vocab snob, I know. I have no shame in being labelled so). The mother then, with a wry look of 'I almost got away with that' ashamedly had to utter the immortal phrase we all dread after blagging intelligence; 'I don't know'.

Needless to say, I left swiftly and this has lingered on my mind ever since. How can a women so bereft of both language skills and honesty be trusted to successfully raise five children!? This still irks me - as I'm sure is obvious from my retelling of it over two years on. I would genuinely love to bolster our country's grasp on its rich, diverse and almost infinitely malleable language, especially as it would not take all that much to change to make a significant difference.

Unchallenged conventions and blindly accepted rules are often a hotbed for problems, at least in my mind anyway. One recently asserted to me is the necessity to stick to simple lexicon in journalistic writing, under the argument that full and proper communication of facts to audiences is the most important element in this form of storytelling.

It seems to me, though, that this act is diluting our highly evolved language and casting it back a few thousand years to a flat, lifeless language that merely comments on what is seen, and fails to give any depth to the described. This continual repetition of the same old jaded phrases in the tabloid papers does, indeed, allow for the ignorant masses to effortlessly digest the poorly nutritional morsels printed every morning, but it also perpetuates their own ignorance and failure to broaden their own vocabulary.

I propose that if newspapers - probably the most widely read literature daily - were to expand their vocabulary to include just some of the more wonderful words and sayings currently residing under the banner of obscure , we could use our fantastic linguistic tool to far greater effect, both as writers and readers. By drip feeding in such a way, it would become possible to extend the nation's linguistic education far beyond our school years.

I do agree that proficient communication is paramount in journalism; with less and less space to give our messages we must be concise, interesting and engaging. All within 160 characters, it seems an impossible feat, but we all are so keen to know what is happening now, so we are all slowly becoming experts and condensing messages, be it through utilising the ugly txt spk, or by deliberating our messages and making every word count, we all do it.

Something that is not, never has been and never will be, in question is that a larger arsenal will give journalists (or anyone else, for that matter) better communication. The unfathomable 32 demonstrative pronouns that Aleutians have access to can pinpoint descriptions in incredible detail that is difficult to fathom in our language. Equally, I'm sure that the varied choice of adjectives available to us would confound any ice-dwelling man.

By saying a man 'smiled', one can paint a picture, but by saying he 'smirked', or 'grinned', or 'beamed', or 'sniggered', one can compose a photographic image of any situation. Surely that would be preferable to writers? By making use of the tools available to us, we can both report news more efficiently and accurately, but we can sound more intelligent whilst we do it, and no-one can resist sounded intelligent when they can.

I cannot pretend that the feeling of using words others are unfamiliar with does give a smug sense of superiority, especially when that person is your self-assured arrogant lecturer (that was a good day), but the revelation of continually learning new words and communicating with exponential proficiency  would be infinitely preferable to the guilty and unfounded superiority complex that festers within me

Something needs to change to allow this to happen, the obsession with dumbing down has to stop before we are drummed into the ground believing that uneducated interpretations and poorly thought out opinions are as valid as researched and respected studies.

Now get out there are start saying 'quaint' to mothers overburdened by five-too-many children that they are unable to educate themselves. And yes, it is definitely the job of parents to educate their offspring, don't pass the buck and expect Miss Wilson and CBeebies to do it all you fat slob.

Happy new year!

Also, it seems as though Sky have moved into the sex-trade with an advertisement Facebook provided me with just now.

Today's Top News: Shoes and Liposuction.

Just after Christmas I, and a group of others, presented a short lecture on pluralism in British newspapers. In this presentation we addressed the issue of ‘importance’ of news – as to some people a celebrity story can be as equally weighted as a terrorist attack or political revolution. We can only hope that these kinds of people will soon be silenced but, as it is, these misguided views are given to us as equals to the real news – the international affairs, national politics, the environment, skateboarding dogs, technological advances, medicinal improvements, etc. There are so many things more important that Jordan’s newest man, or which OAP Rooney is taking his fancy to, yet we are constantly bombarded with this nonsense.

As I’m sure you can imagine, this tirade has not come out of the blue. I was flicking through the paper just now, inspecting the eventual assassination of Bin Laden by the blood thirsty Americans, when I came across an overview of the events that lead to it, and a comment on the morality and effectiveness of this act. All very newsworthy, interesting and ‘important’.

Next page, I thought, for more thought-provoking or fourth estate-style reporting aiming to keep our government in check and doing what they ought to be.

This is the two page spread laid before me.

I mean, what the hell kind of layout is this!? Yes, OK, put this complete nothing-stories in the paper, kill another few forests by printings thousands of this story to spread around the nation, but at least have some kind of thought for the appropriateness of where it might sit in your publication. Maybe try to ease down from the death of the US’s Public Enemy No. 1 with a bit of light news on our failing NHS or on some more speculative taxes that might be thrown our way.

What is equally infuriating is that it still seems a struggle to fill a page with this nonsense! The small inset in the bottom is even less of a story; for one it seems to be about someone being delivered a shark – this is briefly mentioned but not discussed, so I am still none the wiser about this incident – then it goes onto list some things that FedEx have delivered over the years – a few outrageous things that I’m sure any business running as long and as successfully as FedEx would be able to match – and then attempts a very weak satire on Royal Mail involving Sir Elton John. Not all that relevant to the story it's burrowed itself into, and as equally disinteresting as it is irrelevant.

Definitely not something to be laid out next to the reported assassination of the international murderer responsible for the deaths of thousands of innocent people, anyway.

Just a few pages further in, I found another incidence of this frustrating juxtaposing of stories. On the left is a discussion by former Home Secretary David Blunkett concerning the referrendum that's engulfing politics currently, and bottom-right is a story reporting on the closure of the planet’s only radio telescopes searching for extraterrestrial life. But dominating the page are two things; Abbey Clancy and Liposuction.

I am at a loss for what to say. I don’t need to point out the faults and ridicule the editor, as it has laid itself out, ready for attack without my input. Do your own mocking, I’m sure you are all capable enough.

Whilst I’m on the subject of pointing out poor writing, I found a God-awful example of poetry last week.

Now, as much of a nice thought on the morality of animals, and their consciousness of politics, civilisation and religion, it is simply not a poem. So for it to be included in Stevie Smith’s ‘Selected Poems’ is laughable. I did have to check the name of the book before coming to a full decision on this; if it had been a ‘collected writings’ then it would be understandable, but as a ‘selected poem’, this not only naively asserts this writing as a poem, but also assumes that it has been selected by someone for its merits. Goodness knows what other gibberish Stevie Smith has written in her time.

If you've noticed any terrible writing recently, please don't point it out to me, as it'll only make me angrier.