Night of the Chicken Prawns or Why it’s Impossible to Proof your own Work
Was talking to my editor today about the value of proofing and all the daft things you get blind to in a manuscript, and how they look like great big flaming mountains of how did I miss that when they’re pointed out.
Tonight I got a dramatisation of that principle in action.
I’m at the fish and chip shop waiting for my order and this happens.
Bloke to the shop guy: Half a dozen chicken prawns please, mate.
Shop guy: Looks at the bloke, looks at the menu board behind him, looks at the bloke.
Bloke: Half a dozen chicken prawns.
Shop guy: Looks at the bloke and frowns, looks at me, we both look at the bloke.
Bloke: Chicken prawns.
Shop guy: Um.
Me: Do you mean crumbed prawns?
Bloke: What did I say?
Me and Shop guy: Chicken prawns.
We all laugh.
Bloke: Geez, I haven’t even had a drink yet.