Intimations of idiocy

Every day I see fatuous statements I mean to comment on – but rarely get round to.

On Sunday I noticed:

1. A sign in a small charity shop in School Road, Sale seeking people to “play key roles” there. Doing what, pray? Cleaning the toilets? The word key should be banned unless referring to something that opens doors.

2. The prime minister saying upon the death of Britain’s oldest man that “I had the privilege of meeting Henry many times.” Gordon, will you be so kind as to keep quiet for a minute, breathe calmly, then make your way to the nearest home for the mentally disturbed?

3. Some idiot who works for Boris Johnson (an incipient megalomaniac, by the way) calling a scheme for cyclists “iconic.” This almost pips the time some brain-dead marketing journalist called Walker’s Crisps an “iconic” brand.

When the world comes to an end, it will not be because of swine flu - which I rather hoped was something that only killed members of parliament - or global warming. It will be because nobody knows what words mean.

Incidentally I have just decided that things like Twitter are the online equivalent of people who talk in loud voices on their mobile phones. Nobody is really that interested.