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Crocodile tears

23 Feb

“OH, my good lord. ‘Crocodile bites man’s testicles during Zimbabwe river crossing’.” The Misfit places her dish of Moroccan cous-cous on the desk and moves closer to the screen, screwing up her eyes and nose. “Oh, my good lord.”

“Sounds like a good story,” says the Leek Man. “Is that running on the PA foreign wire?”

“No it’s on Digg,” she says. “But I think it’s come originally from a website called the Global Post. Listen to this: ‘Zimbabwe man attacked by crocodile while crossing Chivake River suffers bites on his testicles and penis, but credits a box of tomatoes with saving his life’. Oh, my good lord. Fancy having a crocodile hanging off your penis. Fancy having anything hanging off your penis.”

The Leek Man’s back stiffens and he growls: “That is absolutely horrendous. The last part of that sentence says he credits a box of tomatoes with saving his life. How badly-written is that, for fuck’s sake? It gives the impression the box of tomatoes jumped in the river, wrestled with the fucking crocodile and pulled the man back to the bank. Don’t they read what they’ve written before they send it into cyber-space, these morons who blithely debase our language and murder professional print journalism? Jesus effing Christ.”

“Ooooh,” says the Misfit. “I was going to copy that story and slide it in as a nib on page 26 for the second edition, but I don’t think I will now.”

Leek Man: “You can still do that, but it needs rewriting.”

The Misfit: “Okay. What shall I say?”

The Leek Man, who has by now got the story on his screen: “A Zimbabwe man who was attacked by a crocodile while crossing a river suffered bites to his testicles and penis – but he managed to save his own life using a box of tomatoes. Second paragraph: Meanwhile, up river, a sub-editor from the Nitherley Observer and Bugle tracked down a bunch of semi-literate, spotty-arsed tossers from an internet news provider and crushed their inadequately-developed bollocks on a rock using a hard-backed copy of HW and FG Fowler’s The King’s English applied forcefully beneath a size-ten hiking boot.

“That do yer?”