Sneaky bastards, having a leak, and a soft-grip adjustable wrench...

For some, living with the English language is like being on a linguistic roadway peppered with potholes, cul-de-sacs, detours, and signs pointing in the wrong direction.

I suspect other people speaking other languages have the same problem.

There are times when we use the right word, with the right spelling, and the right meaning.

We know what we want to say. How we want to say it. And who we want to say it to.

We want people to catch our drift. We don’t want them to get the wrong idea. So we drip blood sweat and tears in a serious effort to make ourselves understood. Well…some of us.

I like to think of this as English usage that knows the difference between knowing your shit…and knowing you’re shit.

The thing is…words are sneaky bastards.

They lull us into a false sense of security. And before we know it, we start using all the right letters, for all the right words, but not necessarily with all the right meanings.

Signs get obscured by the mist. Potholes appear out of nowhere. Meanings get lost in translation.

I like to think of this as English usage with its head up its arse and its gearstick in neutral.

For instance…

I knew an old art director who had a problem with his waterworks. His life was plagued by leaks. Meetings of any reasonable duration involved highly accurate planning. And speed of movement.

The thing is…leaks are sneaky bastards.

Like words, they lull us into a false sense of security. And before we know it, they lull us into a false sense of dryness. Then a real sense of dampness. Normally in the groin area.

I like to think of this as English usage and abusage that spends too much time taking the piss.

It puts me in mind of another leak I had recently.

Not a big one. More like an annoyingly slow one.

It had nothing to do with bowels and everything to do with bathrooms. Well…taps, really. Specifically, the one that sits on the top of our family wash hand basin.

The tap that has a swivel top handle and a dual temperature flow.

The one that, until now, had been dripping for about a month.

It’s known as a monobloc mixer in the trade. It’s known as a pain in the arse in the house.

The thing is…taps are sneaky bastards.

They lull us into a false sense of ON. With not a drip in sight. And before we know it, they lull us into a false sense of OFF. Then a very real sense of not completely OFF.

Normally in the drippage department.

Having a leak, no matter how large or small, in your wash hand basin, is a sinful act to any good Catholic boy brought up on a diet of Saturday DIY and Sunday morning mass.

The only solution is a visit to the plumbing department of the nearest B&Q, followed by ten minutes in a certified confessional booth and a redemptive cocktail of 20 Our Fathers and 20 Hail Marys.

I like to think of this as English usage on a wing and a prayer.

With a handy, soft-grip, adjustable wrench.

And a new washer…

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The above is an extract from my book Ad Infinitum (still in the pregnancy stage). Like its sisters Ad Lib, and Ad Hoc, it's about creativity, advertising, life, and lots of stuff in between.

You'll find Ad Lib and Ad Hoc on Amazon, along with my other

books, Love & Coffee and Heaven Help Us. In print and ebook. Waiting for you. Just look here:

Ad Lib: https://amzn.to/2kd4LKf.

Ad Hoc: https://amzn.to/2Nx8GL8

Love & Coffee: https://amzn.to/28IWaHq

Heaven Help Us: https://amzn.to/2nkQ1Jk

Grab a coffee, grab a chair, and grab a sneaky peek.

Then grab a copy...