Arrrrrrrrrrrrgh

I am sub-editing (read: re-writing, in some cases just writing) articles for the student newspaper. They are SO awful I am almost vomiting over my laptop. I can almost sympathise with that awful Ruth Lea woman from the CBI who pops up every now and then to complain that the majority of British graduates are basically illiterate. She may have the tact of a car alarm but if a final year history student at UCL is incapable of producing five hundred words of prose without managing to ensure a decent level of accuracy in spelling and grammar then is there any hope for the world?

I should lighten up, I know. Language is not a system of absolutes, yada yada yawn.

And when this is finished, I’ve got the film essay to start…

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I thought I would provide you with a few particularly outrageous examples:

• ‘holocuast’, spelt wrong and lc (certain things should be treated with just a little bit more seriousness pls)
• ‘The nation was shocked – shocked at how many members, including policemen and teachers, had signed up’ – you can’t sign up if you’re already a member, duh
• ‘f*****g’ and ‘twat’ in successive sentences. What is this, FHM? -> Changed ‘f*****g’ to ‘fucking’ (to quote the Guardian, “never use asterisks, which are just a cop-out”) and ‘twat’ to ‘idiot’, to try to imbue a modicum of respectability
• ‘London Lite or London shite?’ as the title of an article. *oh dear*
• ‘Tottenham court road’ in lc
• O. M. G. someone just wrote its when they meant it’s
• ‘facebook’ in lc. Just because it’s spelt like that on the website it doesn’t mean we all have to ape it. And is there no better way to make the point than recourse to the existence of a Facebook group? “I think x, this group thinks x, therefore x is true” – er, no
• “I joined this group after my experience in first year of running down Euston road for an evening jog and finding a London Lite propelled in my direction despite my obvious inability to read” well, where do I even start on this one
  • i. are you jogging or running
  • ii. it’s Road uc
  • iii. ‘obvious inability to read’ your words not mine (might just let that one go through unchanged)
• ‘partially breathless’ – are you breathless or not? You can be ‘partially’ breathless no more than you can be ‘partially’ dead
• ‘I-pod’
• “a red-enough face to rival the Englisher abroad” – is this a joke? It must be a joke, please tell me it’s a joke

okay that’s enough for now I think but there are literally dozens more

• such as the girl who thinks the opposite of legalise is ‘illegalise’

Bramcote Hills, RIP

Woooow, I just found a big bag with all my Bramcote Hills school books in. Dad’s doing a clearout of the loft and stuck the bag in the ‘dispose’ section of the landing, so it’s a good job I found it and rescued it. A particular highlight – year 10 history, Nazi Germany lesson, essay homework: writing out a list of Nuremberg convicts using swastikas instead of bullet points. Also, written in my homework diary from my year ten maths teacher: “Matthew must not share his work for others to copy in the lesson. H Hutchcroft”. What a cow. No wonder I grew up with such a pathological hatred of maths.

Essay result

I got the provisional grade and mark for my year abroad essay yesterday – the 10,000-word one I wrote about Turks in Germany.  I got 75, which is easily a First and was apparently the highest mark in the department, although I don’t know that for sure.  I spoke to the member of staff who’d supervised the project and she said it’d been a pleasure to read and mark.  To say I’m pleased would be an understatement!

Distinctly disappointing

I went to Westfield London, “London’s new shopping experience”, this weekend. Conclusion: they should have spent less money giving it a fancy roof and more thinking through a logical design. Give me Bluewater or Lakeside any day. Perhaps I’m just inclined to mock it because there was a queue – a QUEUE – outside the Ugg shop. The UGG SHOP. There weren’t even that many people inside the shop; they obviously just wanted the queue outside for effect.

Argh, I’ve got to write all my stupid assessed essays before next Friday thanks to my stupid Christmas job and UCL’s stupid “seasonal opening hours” (read: “seasonal laze fest” – they’re open for about half an hour one day a week or something.)

Also, provisional dissertation results come out this week or next. Starting to get nervous! Not too much, though.