Sir, - Last week I received a communication from Eircell extolling the delights of text messaging. The heading IF U DNT TXT, NOWS DE TIME 2 START was, fortunately, translated for me for, while I like crosswords, I haven't yet been able to reconcile myself to this new "language". Am I the only person in Ireland, I wonder, who considers this kind of bastardisation of English the most pernicious assault on spelling, grammar and punctuation that we've ever encountered?
"Aw!" I can hear some say, "get yourself a life! It's only a bit of fun." I take my cue, however, from Myles na gCopaleen who, although he'd undoubtedly have had great fun with texting, would have been playing about with English from a basis of great knowledge. We, on the other hand, are dealing with a situation of at least 25 per cent functional illiteracy that manifests itself in deteriorating standards of expression and, especially, writing at all levels of society.
It is possible that, in days to come, the average school leaver will be better able to express him/herself in text language than in standard English.
Does this matter? Myles thought it did. In 1941, in reply to a correspondent (probably mythical), who complained about having to follow normal grammatical rules, Myles advised him to "Ignore all rules of grammar that do not suit your book, to the devil with all obsolete impudence that requires you to think before you write . . . and do not hesitate to import into the linguistic texture of your matter the same incredibly low standard that you reach in its intellectual content."
In all seriousness, the great master of hybrid languages, of puns and linguistic jokes, said that there was a real connection between debased language and debased thought.
"A residual curiosity is that when a man is capable of expressing himself, he finds he has something to say, while, when linguistically mum, the astonishing side-result is that he is incapable of thinking: that is to say, meaningful words are often the actual stuff of thought." This was published in March 1966, a few weeks before his death. Oh, Myles, where are you when we need you most? - Yours etc.,
Anne Clune, Miltown Malbay, Co Clare.