Kine off Stranj

One of the things we constantly do battle against here at wheniwasoneandtwenty (besides the idiocy of the perfidious French) is the abuse and corruption of the English language. In this effort, we are aided by our loyal and attentive readers. (Ladies and gentlemen, we kiss your hands.)

Fortunately, we are lucky to count among our Yeomen of the Tongue one Wild William, Earl of Hensley, a man whose martial grace in the Field of Grammar is exceeded only by his ability to mix a martini.

Today, in response to his recent riposte to a rapscallion bent on mangling the marvelous marital conjunction of IT and IS, we have composed a short, chatty note of congratulation, applauding his efforts on our behalf.

Thus.

Wild Won!

Its kine off stranj how mane riders do not no how its difer’s frum it’s an how adled grow the wit's off the litul shit’s wen won poyn’s it owt too em: tha then tri dufendin the grumateculy indifensible, lik its som kine off Art.

Wise it so hart for thez genus’s ta atmit tha gooft? Onestle. I goof awl the tim. I no wut kine off boob I am. I am awlwaz recevin litul reminderz from Microsof wurd. I dont min admitten it: I injoy it. Tha shood litn up an injoy it, to. Lif’s to shot. [Short.] Edyucated beon thar inteligint’s, clerly. Yor dum frend proble wen ta Ox Fort or Ardvark. [Harvard?] Mine all did.

Az fur me, I am continyuin ta injoy a nise corespondint’s with a splendit rider, a poit, who techz ridin in Hard Fort. Weve ben talkin about growin apel’s an findin fosil’s, wich makz a plezan’t chanj frum politik’s, dont yu think?

Tonite I am goin ta the jim fur spinin an then ta diner with Murea. Thi’s wek end Iv nuthin plant eksept fur goin ta the jim, writin, an re-redin H. W. Foulers Dickshunhairy off Modrun Inglish. Yusuj. Avtur redin yore not, I think I ned ta re-vu som topik’s.

Luf and kis’s,
-E.

As you can see, even if you try, it is really a lot harder to fuck up completely than it seems. One must make a very determined, demented effort.