ENGRISH

Recently I shelled out a generous portion of my hard-earned on a shiny silver music-making gadget so miniaturised as to make a bee's generative organs seem large by comparison.Since I am afflicted with an inability to take direction, and a staunch belief that such devices should be designed for intuitive use, I mangled the controls on my new toy for a good hour before admitting defeat and turning to the manual.``Before the MP3 explorer don't operate , connect the Data In/Data Out cable to MP3 player and PC.'' Hmmm, so that's what I was doing wrong.``Before downing files to your MP3 player and connect the MP3 player to PC using the Data In/Out cable.''I threw the manual against the wall and pondered the whether calling the helpline would result in a similar fate for the telephone.It seems rather odd that a company which presumably employs hundreds of able technicians to produce these devices, assembles them in high-tech, dust-free environments, ships them to Australia and successfully markets them to yours truly can't put a simple sentence together.Surely it can't be a service provided simply for the amusement of the English speaking world, or perhaps a subtle revenge for Titanic and The Crocodile Hunter.If putting a manual together is such a challenge, should I have similar doubts about the company's proficiency in other areas? If so, at least the device is not mains-powered.The woeful errors which abound in technical writing assure me there is no editing process whatsoever.The average eight year old, nay, a below average eight year old, would be able to tell me that ``Before the MP3 explorer don't operate'' is a bit suspect.But despair not, I have a plan. I offer the services of our year seven primary school students.Every Friday, as an after-lunch wind-down, they can sub-edit manuals for technology companies, thereby earning valuable income for the State school system, improving their grammar, and giving me some hope that my mother will someday learn to program the VCR.I have a sneaking suspicion the particular manual which ushered me more swiftly down the road to stress-related breakdown had its origin in probably the greatest bastion of battered English in the world, Japan.In a previous incarnation I was an English teacher in the Land of the Rising Sun.There I witnessed the wholesale massacre of our fine language, via a variety of ill-advised t-shirt slogans and advertising campaigns, with unfailingly hilarious results.A favourite was a student's jacket emblazoned with the declaration, ``I have the dream of both hands fullness''.I wholeheartedly concur young man. Full of what is the question, presumably.I assume the Japanese are similarly amused by the plethora of young Australians tattooed with Chinese characters, which as far as they and the bikie who penned them know, could mean ``I am a happy fish''.In order to further the cause of international goodwill and understanding, I offer my plan to the technology sectors of the north-east Asian region and, for a small fee, will oversee it.One has to do something to help out. For as my favourite Japanese t-shirt says, ``It is tired only to watch it''.