An Analysis of Coherent Typos

In this gem of literature I define a “Coherent Typo” as one which, through a minute error, transforms one word into another of different meaning (thus I discount such typos that transform, for example, “automobile” into “car”, although fortunately these are  rare anyway), the alternative is an “Incoherent Typo”, the effect of which is to render a word totally indecipherable. Analogously, this would be akin to calling a Fulham accent a Coherent ‘typo’ on English and the Cumbrian dialect an Incoherent one (the analogy is extreme and not in the least helpful, I admit, but the underlying point is simple: Cumbrian is Incoherent).

To introduce today’s topic then: could it be that the seemingly innocent typos we are all capable of making conceal deeper, more disturbing, meanings? …It could, and on this rather weak premise I set forth….

Please view with great care the results of over a thousand hours of research* into this fascinating field, displayed in full below as a list of the typos I came across and my favourite interpretations of them.

Exhibit A: “All the beast,”

How does this happen and what does it mean? To the first part of the question a flavourless answer for those in denial is thankfully available: the mashing together of the ‘a’ and ‘s’ keys with something less than the typing finesse we all learned at school is responsible, a too hurried ending to an email (highlighting that a careless final touch to a masterpiece can ruin it). In truth this answer is nothing more than a pathetic cop-out, and my extensive researches have revealed that this typo happens not through some lack of control and slip of the fingers, or knuckles (if you are an advanced typist, like me), but that it is a deliberate error (if errors can still be considered errors when they are deliberate?).

I am forced to recognise two possibilities: 1) a crass insinuation and 2) a half-hearted Neanderthal compliment.

Crass insinuation coupled with “the beast” is self explanatory, and a more penetrating analysis becomes unnecessary! 

Let us focus on the ‘Neanderthal compliment’ aspect then: should a cave man offer you “all the beast” then this would be the highest honour, only the most respected could earn such a feast! Quite coincidentally, this would be similar to saying the more familiar “all the best”.  It is a strange choice of compliment to use in the present day though… I would check the date the email was sent if I were you!

Exhibit B: “Got to ruin, so see you soon…”

There is only one possible interpretation of this! Despite the idyllic nature of our surroundings, vandals are loose in our midst (though I use the term carelessly, so please note that in this case “vandal” is not restricted to applying only to that East Germanic tribe of early AD which would, quite frankly, be ridiculous… we would all notice them!).

But did you ever wonder why the coffee machine requires such regular maintenance? Why the air conditioning would better suit an emperor penguin than a human? Why Word insists on helping you write a letter, even when you’re not? Now you know… those who seem pressed for time and end their emails in this way are truly busier than we might think; busy breaking things!   

Exhibit C: “[Name] contracted me earlier about…”

Is this really a mistake? Or does the sender truly consider themselves to be a disease? In order to fully understand the import of this it would be necessary to hear more; does this person liken themselves to a common cold, or perhaps something more exotic? –the “contracted” would necessarily imply something contagious and so we must step away from all those fascinating phobias, alas. Still, perhaps such detail is not needed after all, and this typo may merely suggest that the sender is admitting to being nothing more than a plague, a terrible inconvenience and [Name] was unfortunate enough to be the one inconvenienced; in this light it could almost be an apology… or at the very least an admission of guilt!

Exhibit D: “Hell [Name],”

Sometimes it is the omission of a letter, in this case the ‘o’, which leads us astray. Symbolic perhaps: chipping away at lies will uncover the truth in much the same way as meaning is revealed when the deceiving letters are discarded. Clearly this kind of ‘error’ signifies a deep frustration towards the recipient. In fact, it is but a small step to imagining the typing being done with emphatic hammer-like strikes of the forefingers and an expression of nearly perfect hatred distorting the face.

Personally, I would be wary in replying to an email opening with this sort of manic rage.

Exhibit E: “Tanks a lot,” or “Many tanks,”

No less than a declaration of war. Beware conflict disguised as appreciation; there is no genuine gratitude here!

Do not naively accept this sentence as a mistake; the sender quite clearly intends to send an army against you.

(Note: in the cases where a message opens with Exhibit D and closes with Exhibit E, it is advisable to apply for some sort of police protection, as at this point matters have clearly deteriorated beyond repair).

Alas, this is all there is time for today… but do not despair, the full edition (containing the previously unseen Exhibit F) will be released sometime in May 2048, about the time the engineering works are completed on our national rail network actually.

(I have checked this document carefully for typos of my own, and discovered none! So if you do uncover any, feel free to interpret them as you like…)

*the possibility that time is cyclical allows me to make this outrageous statement, similar to saying, I suppose, that Carlisle is East of Newcastle; which is entirely true… thus one minute could be said to be “over a thousand hours” if viewed in this way (admittedly, it is a bit of a stretch…).