A mortal blow was struck to the literary world centered in Britain recently when it was announced that 21 years of research done by Spoof Writer Lynton, would wind up in a Dust Bin when Publishers decided it was not economically feasible to issue the 3rd Edition of the Oxford English Dictionary.
In addition to the financial factors leading to the decision, accountants had proclaimed sales of the OED was falling by 10 pc a year, there was the New World Order to consider, with the vision of certain ministers in Belgium suggesting that the days of English Literacy was no longer relevant.
Lynton, a local wordsmith noted for his dogged determination to speak and write the King's English in the manner in which it was originally intended, was immediately struck down with a severe case of writer's cramp eventually traced to a bad case of Kidney Stones which caused intense pain leaving him unable to even " take the piss" over the matter.
"Twenty one years I've spent trying to educate the illiterate sods, and this is what it all comes down to....no one gives a S***t anymore," he said whilst nursing a pint with some fellow scribes during the Wake for the Proper Word.
Erskine Quint a fellow wordsmith was quite circumspect about the matter.
"I don't know what all the fuss is about, I still use my original 1755 copy autographed by Samuel Johnson when I'm in a pinch....all these new words invented since really are just gobble-de-gook. They might serve in Scotland, but have no place in everyday print venues...that's why I only write Magazine Articles! I refuse to be dumbed down! Bastards!"
Doctor Victor Nicholas, known for quite erudite treatises on foreign fauna and exotic fishes concurred succinctly: "God help us," he said dourly.
"It's an ARSE MESS for sure," said a barrister from the firm of Mudder & Mudder, LLC, " but it was foretold in the tea leaves...no one reads literature anymore, and they certainly can's speak english...and GOOD WRITING...HA...there's another OXYMORON for you! WE'RE DOOMED!"
A moke from Manchester, interviewed on the street outside a pub, didn't seem to be concerned.
"Listen Mate, they're just words in a big fat F******g book...who's got time to look all that Shit up...time goes by, and if you waste it, why sure as Fergus's goat is pregnant again, life will pass you by! It's just the TRUTH innit?"
Another on the street query to a passing Scotsman didn't help much.
Looking perplexed, he squinted, thought hard and said, " Words Just Fail Me."