Repent now, ye fornicators

Nic was correct to suggest that tenderhooks were technically supposed to be tenterhooks in the previous blog. Snaps for Nic about that, but perhaps he misses the greater picture. The word tenderhooks (it's a word in my world) has a number of connotations that I thought were appropriate to the situation. Emotion of this sort is often thought to fall somewhere between tenderness and a raw form of hurt. It is also something that people get stuck on and for some inexplicable reason find it difficult to let go, no matter how logical or sensible it may be to do so. We all live in our own little imagined realities and I suppose that there is always something to get hung about. This is what I love about the English language - there are so many subtleties and nuances which we can use, abuse and invent in order to get our point of view across. There are some absolute fanatics who swear that we shouldn't change anything about English. This is complete and utter bollocks. The most important thing about English is, in my arrogant opinion, that it is such a dynamic and fluid language, wrapping us close to its warm and sometimes (if you're doing a thesis) suffocating bosom. Shakespeare invented words. Orwell warned us against destroying them. If we want to think and expand the boundaries of our conception we must be able to learn new words and occasionally use ones that are slightly out of place in order to add a subtle flavour or suggest an intricate position.

And I love the pun. Highest form of humour.

Speaking of humour, it appears that the inability of the young American bloke to read 'police' can have hilarious consequences. Having someone walk in on you either by yourself or with someone (or group) special and naked can be a traumatic experience. So I've heard. Here is some advice with people who have clearly had experience. Of course, cutting off you penis would probably stop that sort of event ever occurring.

For some sick reason that seems like an appropriate place to finish.