Lynne Truss claims at the start of 'Talk To The Hand: Or The Utter Bloody Rudeness Of Everyday Life', that this book, or indeed her earlier grammatical pedantry in 'Eats, Shoots and Leaves' won't appeal to anyone under thirty.

However, I would like to blaze a trail for those under thirties who bristle at the sign of a misplaced apostrophe, gag at the sight of sodomised inverted commars and sob at basic spelling mistakes.

These crimes are compounded ten fold when this occurs in proper printed signs. What really kicked off this blog was the sight of an official sign in Abbey (the 'National' being discarded for the friendly girl-next-door precedent) that bore the advice 'More Cash Machine's Upstairs'. This was printed, on plastic, a REAL sign, from a pillar of the banking community.
Not only is the apostrophe misplaced, the singular has mistakanly been used making it a double stinker and driving me into a tangle headphone knot of irritation. So this blog was born. *

I had to come up with a good name for what I was. Paedant, a term describing a juvenile pedant, was the best of a bad bunch. It also has the nicely provocative edge of potentially irritating any number of vigilante Sun readers. I look forward to the inevitable hate mail address to 'you dirty paedo'.

This blog isn't just about punctuation, however. As I did my research, the abundance of bollock we allow into our lives in the form of signs accosted me at every corner. Neutral coloured plaques promising 'food experiences' or a grinning rent-a-punk advertising student accounts. Anyone who has read 'White Noise' by Don Delillo will know how this glut of information will finally seep into our brains and rewrite our thoughts bit by bit. So every now and again, I get on my elitosteed and purge this doublespeak from my life.

We kick off with a surreal titbit. Spicy Fries 'Here' . No, not really here. 'Here', as in not really here. Next door perhaps, or leading a revolution in Guatemala, just not here. 'Here'. Yes?

* it's now been taken down, presumably after complaints from a similarly outraged pedant, possibly even my perfect match. Perhaps my next endeavor will be a dating site for pedants. "Well, it's not really a date, she's not really my girlfriend, technically speaking, I think it's pronouned 'Kee - Anti'..."