The European Commission has just announced an agreement whereby English will be the official language of the EU rather than German, which was the other possibility. As part of the negotiations, Her Majesty’s Government conceded that English spelling had some room for improvement and has accepted a 5 year phase-in plan that would be known as “EuroEnglish”: —
In the first year, “s” will replace the soft “c”.. Sertainly, this will make the sivil sevants jump with joy. The hard “c” will be dropped in favor of the “k”. This should klear up konfusion and keyboards kan have one less letter.
There will be growing publik enthusiasm in the sekond year, when the troublesome “ph” will be replaced with the “f”. This will make words like “fotograf” 20% shorter.
In the 3rd year, publik akseptanse of the new spelling kan be expekted to reach the stage where more komplikated changes are possible. Governments will enkorage the removal of double letters, which have always ben a deterent to akurate speling. Also, al wil agre that the horible mes of the silent “e”‘s in the language is disgraceful, and they should go away.
By the 4th yar, peopl wil be reseptiv to steps such as replasing “th” with “z” and “w” with “v”. During ze fifz year, ze unesesary “o” kan be dropd from vords kontaning “ou” and similar changes vud of kors be aplid to ozer kombinations of leters.
After zis fifz yer, ve vil hav a reli sensibl riten styl. Zer vil be no mor trubls or difikultis and evrivun vil find it ezi tu understand ech ozer.
ZE DREM VIL FINALI KUM TRU!!
The Tough Coughs As He Ploughs the Dough
It was forty-five years ago, when I first came to America as a young Roumanian student of divinity, that I first met the evils of the “ough words.” Strolling one day in the country with my fellow student, I saw a tough, coughing as he ploughed a feild, which (being quite nearsighted)I misstook for pie dough. Assuming that all ough words were pronounced the same, I casually remarked, “The tuff cuffs as he pluffs the duff!” “Sacrilege!” shrieked my devout companions. “He is curising in Roumanian!” I was expelled from school.
Mr. Hough, Your Bough is in the Trough
The ministry being closed to me, I then got a job as a chore boy on the farm of an eccentric Mr. Hough, who happed to spend most of his time in the bough of a tree overhanging a trough. I was watering a colt one morning, when I noticed that Mr. Hough’s weight had forced the bough down into the water. “Mr. Hoo!” I shouted. “Your Boo is in the Troo!” Thinking I was speaking lightly of his wife, Mr. Hough fired me on the spot.
Enough! Enough I’m Through!
So I drifted into the prize ring. But here again the curse of teh oughs undid me. One night at the Garden, I was receiving an unmerciful trouncing froma mauler twice my size. Near the end of the sixth round I could stand it no longer. I raised my feeble hand in surrender. “Eno! Eno!” I gulped. “I’m thruff!” “Insults like that I take from no man!”bellowed my opponent, and he slugged me into a coma! Something snapped!…a maddening flash…and all became black. Fifteen years later I awoke to find myself the father of three homely daughters named Xough, Yough, and Zough. I had become a thorough-going Augho-maniac.