I'm in predictive text heaven. . . but not for long

Several more texts were exchanged before the penny finally dropped and I realised that, far from being her idea of a musical genius I was, in fact, in the dog house.

That's the trouble with predictive text, you see. It can get you into all sorts of trouble.

A few weeks back I asked one of my media contacts if he'd like to meet up for a "neck". I meant a "meal" of course, but in the strange parallel universe of predictive texting there's a fine line between a message being received and understood or making no sense at all.

A text from my wife yesterday read "can you check ink dates and text back?" Is our printer of the blink, I wondered? I didn't know the cartridges had sell-by dates.

I texted back: "Ink?"
She replied: "Eh?"
I texted back: "What are ink dates?"
She replied: "I meant hol dates."

So, you see how misunderstandings can occur. Oddly enough, some of these cock-ups have spawned a whole new lingo.

For example, it has now become de rigueur in text-speak to describe anything you consider to be cool as "book" - as in "that gig was totally book". Of course, if you thought a book was especially enjoyable it could get confusing - "that book was totally book". Hmmm?

So, let's return to my wife's back-handed compliment. I must admit I thought it was rather odd that she was praising my musical abilities when I had rushed out of the house without loading the dishwasher, as promised.

I texted back: "Eh, thanks."
She replied: "What do you mean, thanks? Are you trying to be funny?"
I texted back: "No. I just didn't understand your last text. Why did you call me a jazz hit?"
She replied: "Sod this bloody predictive texting. I said you were a lazy git!"