There are reasons that most of us were not born a Lord Byron or reared to be a slightly lesser Sir Kingsley. At times we strive for Shakespearean, but then swiftly resolve our satisfaction to one single step above the casual musing of any given blogger and, in so achieving, rightfully rejoice in the masterwork over which we survey! So begs an incidental interrogative: When did we begin these divorce proceedings from our own well-tested tongue? In short, someone far more laconic than I might designate the affliction as:
A King's English, now nearly retired, and a Queen's suffering a disinclination to use it.
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