I side with Ken Smith on this occasion though. I hate spelling mistakes and love to point them out. Only yesterday I saw a greengrocers’ apostrophe and instinctively growled. But that is only because I am a cheeky wee pedant. Deep down, I know that the rules of the English language are strange and, ultimately, pointless.

What is the purpose of language? I would say language is what allows people to communicate with each other. Accordingly, rules should develop naturally, and as long as the two parties communicating understand each other all is well. However, for grammar fascists, language rules are just an opportunity to crack the whip.

It is worth remembering that a strict one-size-fits-all suite of language rules is a very modern concept. Standardised spellings only came in when some smart fellow decided to become the first lexicographer and hoodwink people into believing his services were vital.

William Shakespeare did not even have a standardised spelling for his own name. Was he wrong? If we follow the joke that the easiest mark in an exam is for spelling your name correctly, it looks like Shakespeare himself would have failed his English GCSE.

Now, hopefully you have noticed that I like to take care over my spelling and suchlike. But this is a personal choice that I took because I believe that adhering to these rules allows me to reach the widest audience possible. That, and it means I don’t get bombarded by complaints from snobs.

If someone else is content to spell things incorrectly but can still convey their message to its intended recipient then that is their personal choice. There is nothing wrong with people deciding how they can speak and write for themselves.

Language has always evolved naturally, and I see no reason why that should stop now. The purpose of a dictionary is to record language as it is written, not to tell people how to write it. If different people spell things in different ways, then that is just part of life’s rich tapestry.

After all, we tolerate and even celebrate — and rightly so — variations in pronunciation in the English language. Only the snobbiest of snobs would demand that everyone speaks RP. In this age where regional accents are celebrated, we usually find we have no trouble understanding people. So why should people also be expected to write in the same bland, standardised, colourless RP all the time?

What gets me is the sheer snobbery of some people who insist on “correct” spellings. Who is to say that you are right and they are wrong? Closing your ears and stomping your feet complaining about how thick the other person is does not get anyone anywhere. Is there not room for some give and take, just as there is when having a conversation with people who have a different accent?

Ideas of Civilisation attempted to show how ludicrous Ken Smith’s suggestion is by filling his post with a myriad of misspellings. Of course, were Ken Smith’s idea to take hold and language was allowed to evolve naturally, we almost certainly would not face a wholesale dumping of the dictionary, with standards completely replaced by arbitrariness. Instead, new standards would emerge while the most common misspellings would be tolerated.

Txt spk is the perfect example. Snobs may turn their nose up at it, but there is no denying that this development which emerged naturally has had an important influence in simplifying the language and removing barriers to communication. In fact, it is an ingenious solution to the problem we all face, stuck with the QWERTY system which was originally designed to slow typists down. What is wrong with people using their initiative to speed things up again?

Then there is the text message itself, where brevity is key. Messages are limited to 160 characters which means you have to keep it short if you want to avoid being charged double or even triple your normal rate. The new standard of abbreviations is a clever and natural way to evade this restriction.

That is not to mention instant messaging, where speed is as important as clarity. When you are having a fast-paced IM conversation, it is only sensible to take the odd short cut. It should be no surprise that in an age where we rely more heavily than ever on inefficient keyboards and restrictive technologies that new standards should emerge.

Moreover, what is wrong with “embarassing”, “beleive” or “pleasent”? Or even the odd “there” instead of “their” or vice-versa? You would still know exactly what I meant were I to use those spellings. Any exam marker with two brain cells to rub together would know that as well. If he were to mark down someone for putting one ‘r’ instead of two even though the meaning is still perfectly clear, then that would make him a petulant, authoritarian shit.

Evan Davies had a really interesting post on his blog about the possibility of converting from imperial to metric measurements. He notes the benefits of the metric system that we are surely all aware of — mostly that multiples of 10 and 100 are damn convenient.

Imperial, on the other hand, is a right mess. I put the word “system” in scare quotes in the first paragraph because there is no system to it. I had always assumed that a mile had to be a certain number of yards. That would only be sensible, right? Apparently not. It’s just an arbitrary distance.

The benefits of the imperial system? Evan Davies says that it’s partly down to the British being stubborn because metric wasn’t invented here. There are also the obvious costs to converting. An obvious example is the fact that if we were to change from miles to kilometres, every single road sign in the country would have to be changed at tremendous cost. There are other costs like having to get used to the new measurements.

I am a fan of the metric system, just because of its simplicity. And it was also what I was taught at school. But here is the problem. While I spent my whole time at school learning all about centimetres, hectares, litres and the like, as soon as I walked out of the school grounds everyone was talking to me about inches, pints and miles.

The end result is that I have a bit of a mish-mash of knowledge on vital measurements. I’ve never really taken inches on board, and I find that this is a particular problem. Because it seems as though everybody uses inches rather than centimetres — even people who went to school at the same time as me.

Moreover, whenever I mention centimetres or metres at work, I feel as though I might be judged for that. Under their breath, people might be saying I’m a cheese eating surrender monkey or similar, or they might think to themselves, “bloody youth of today”. The whole situation is like having a conversation where one person is speaking English and the other is speaking French (I guess that would be me, which is amusing because my foreign language skills are non-existent).

And for all of the merits of the metric system, what of the humble old British pint? As if pubs weren’t bad enough for social awkwardness, no doubt having a half litre would be too girly, while ordering a litre of Stella would make you an über wife beater or binge drinker. (Mind you, how often do you go to the pub and have only one pint?)

Evan Davies suggests that there should be a major study investigating the costs and benefits of moving to metric. But I suspect we all know what the answer is. Stick with what you know, because that’s what everyone uses. Economics textbooks look at the QWERTY keyboard layout as an example of these network effects, but people are probably more aware of VHS versus Betamax.

At the end of the day, this is about social conventions. Conventions don’t change overnight, and certainly not at the whim of governments. They have taken the whole of history to evolve to where they are today, and it is probably easiest to stick with the way things are — even if we suspect that moving to metric would be better. If only something would happen to make everyone wake up tomorrow morning and start using metric, we would all be better off.

It’s probably quite well known that QWERTY (man that’s an awkward word to type) keyboards, despite being the standard, are bloody terrible. Designed back in the days of typewriters, the QWERTY layout is said to have been designed to slow down typing to avoid the little arms clashing with each other. But look in front of you. No little arms; just a bunch of buttons in a silly order.

Part of me is tempted to just bite the bullet and switch to the Dvorak layout, which some say is more efficient. But of course I couldn’t do that. I would have to re-learn the keyboard layout when I’ve been using QWERTY all my life. I would keep all of the habits that I have developed while learning QWERTY. And perhaps most worryingly of all, if I had to use a public (or anyone else’s) computer I would have to use QWERTY anyway — which means using two systems in tandem.

Everyone is in the same quandary, but we all stick with QWERTY because we wouldn’t be able to shake off all the issues that would arise from switching. Likewise, imagine if some time in the 1980s the government said, “right, enough of these inferior VHS machines — you’re all using Betamax from now on.”

The same goes with metric. Even though most suspect a metric world would make more sense, we would all still measure short distances in inches and order drinks in pints.

Update: The Hard Sell…: Penny for your martyrs.

I also feel like pointing out right now that I have no idea what an ounce is, nor can I imagine what any value of Fahrenheit feels like.