I do love a good copy editing/grammar squabble, particularly when it gets blown up into profane e-mail declarations like this one.
The gist: British restaurant critic Giles Coren became enraged upon seeing that the editors at his newspaper, The Times, took out the word “a” in the last paragraph of his column. He wrote a long, rambly, profane, bossy, mean-spirited e-mail to anyone and everyone who could have possibly allowed such an egregious error to happen. It delights me to no end to excerpt it here:
It was the final sentence. Final sentences are very, very important. A piece builds to them, they are the little jingle that the reader takes with him into the weekend.
I wrote: “I can’t think of a nicer place to sit this spring over a glass of rosé and watch the boys and girls in the street outside smiling gaily to each other, and wondering where to go for a nosh.”
It appeared as: “I can’t think of a nicer place to sit this spring over a glass of rosé and watch the boys and girls in the street outside smiling gaily to each other, and wondering where to go for nosh.”
There is no length issue. This is someone thinking “I’ll just remove this indefinite article because Coren is an illiterate cunt and i know best”.
Well, you fucking don’t.
This was shit, shit sub-editing for three reasons.
Coren goes on to outline these three reasons, indulging the reader with an explanation of Yiddish syntax and the double entendre (apparently it has something to do with cruising for a blowjob? hahahaha, that’s so awesome, Giles!!! You Brits and your superior sense of humor just BLOW me away!!!). Oh, and some wonkery about metre and stressed syllables.
Maybe he’s right — the copy desk probably fucked up by removing that little “a.” But to act like it’s the absolute worst thing that could ever happen to a writer, like some pristine work of art has been pissed on? Really?!
Anyway, here’s the clincher, where Coren takes to his fainting couch:
It strips me of all confidence in writing for the magazine. No exaggeration. i’ve got a review to write this morning and i really don’t feel like doing it, for fear that some nuance is going to be removed from the final line, the pay-off, and i’m going to have another weekend ruined for me.
I’ve been writing for The Times for 15 years and i have never asked this before – i have never asked it of anyone i have written for – but I must insist, from now on, that i am sent a proof of every review i do, in pdf format, so i can check it for fuck-ups. and i must be sent it in good time in case changes are needed. It is the only way i can carry on in the job.
Zing! What a champ.
I’m calling for a double-fisted copy-desk monkey salute for Mr. Coren. Y’all know what I’m talking about.
There is nothing better than editing for a Diva. I love a brutal editor, but I love a passionate, fights for every word column writer too. He’s right.
What is the current British obsession with Rose wine? I don’t get it.
I can just HEAR our old slot guy’s response.
“We are sorry. You are sorrier. Get OVER your damn self.”
And since this wanker started it:
Dude, if you call yourself a “c–t” in an office-wide e-mail, expect some OTHER wanker to make some reference to you having an unmitigated hissy because it’s your time of the month.
I swear.
It “strips [him] of all confidence”? An accidental typo? (I can’t believe somebody on the desk took out the “a” intentionally.) Dude has more issues than Lloyd’s List‘s morgue right now.
I learned that cunt is worse than dropping an f-bomb here. I have no issue with the word, but it is apparently the worst curse word in all of the British lexicon. On a related note, you should never use the term “double-fisted” here, either. I learned that just today!