Ouch!

From the Sunday Herald Sun, July 23, 2006.

"How Split Tore Me Apart."

Isn't that what splits do, tear things apart? Isn't it the very nature of a split to be a consequence of something that has been torn? Or is the headline suggesting that a banana smothered in ice cream, cream, strawberry topping and nuts was responsible for tearing some poor soul to pieces? Maybe they over extended in a gymnastic manoeuvre, and did themselves some damage.

Whichever way you wish to look at it, it does bring tears to the eyes.

Grave consequences.

Published in the Herald Sun, Saturday, July 22, 2006.

"Mum told dead son to avoid risky drivers."

A good example of a headline that should never have been printed. The bad grammar makes it look as though the poor mother was trying to warn her already deceased child about the dangers of riding in cars with dangerous drivers. But, if you think the headline was a shocker, check out the leading paragraph of the article.

"A teenager killed after a police chase was warned not to get into cars with dangerous drivers."

So what is the reporter trying to tell us here? That the police chased this boy, and afterwards they killed him? And again, why is someone trying to warn him when he is already dead?

I'm sure that there are some people who will think this is funny, but this is a prime example of poor language skills making a mockery of an innocent person's grief. The fault doesn't entirely lie with the reporter, Matt Cunningham, - although, as a professional writer, he really should know better - but also with the editors of the paper who allowed this article to be printed as it was.

In the know.

Although technically correct, the following statement by then U.S. Secretary of Defence, Donald Rumsfeld, certainly deserved its acclamation as the most confusing thing said in the year 2002. (The picture on the right shows Mr. Rumsfeld shortly after he delivered the speech)

"Reports that say that something hasn't happened are always interesting to me, because as we know, there are "known knowns"; there are things we know we know. We also know there are "known unknowns"; that is to say we know there are some things we do not know. But there are also "unknown unknowns" - the ones we don't know we don't know ."

So, does that mean because I now know there are things I don't know I don't know, these things become known unknown unknowns?

Perhaps that paragon of all English language virtues, actor Richard Burton, can sum it up for us. "Indeed he knows not how to know who knows not also how to un-know. "

Who knows?

Something fishy here.

The caption under this photo was, "Fisherman hooks monster shark in rubber dinghy." The error was compounded by the headline in the attendant article: "Man catches bronze whaler in dinghy"

This, of course, begs the question: what was the shark doing in a rubber dinghy?

I suppose it's possible it can't swim, and needs a boat to get around? Was the dinghy actually owned by the shark, or had it stolen it? Perhaps it has seen the movie, "Jaws", and is afraid to go in the water? Maybe the shark had embraced technology and the dinghy was equipped with a fish finder, and the poor creature was only looking for lunch? Being a bronze whaler, could it have been trying to maintain the image of the bronzed Aussie? Or could it have been a cast member of "West Side Story" just looking to spend a little time on the water?

Even if we never find an answer to this conundrum, one thing is absolutely certain. At the end of this saga, something is going to end up battered. It'll just be a toss up which will be more so: the fish or the grammar.

All at sea.

On December 17, 1967, Australian Prime Minister, Harold Holt, disappeared off Cheviot Beach in Victoria whilst indulging in his favourite pastime of snorkelling. Naturally this generated an enormous media storm, and the little town of Portsea was suddenly the focus of the world.

The thing is, the media was informed of the Prime Minister's disappearance some four-and-a-half hours before the general public, but were subject to a D notice which prevented them from spreading the news. Plus it was December, Australia's Summer, and the day was hot and windy. So conditions were just right for someone to step on a verbal banana peel.

The gaffe was admitted by the culprit himself, non other than Geoff Raymond. Reflecting on his long career, he said the worst moment was a live report from Cheviot Beach, reporting the disappearance of Prime Minister Harold Holt. The broadcast went on for ages. Concluding his report, he said: "So at this stage the search has come to a dead halt."

Must have been all that sea air.