The young clerk sat looking bewildered at the handwritten note.
It read; Owing to a farrago of spatchcocks, I had no time for omphaloskepsis. It would be a case of lucubration in my phrontistery, in what would probably be a sisyphean of sorting through the imbroglio to identify the delenda.
It had been left by the proof-reader the day before, along with a great many heavily edited pages. It was evident that there had been no attempt to follow up on any of the insertions, corrections, or relocation of paragraphs or sentences, or any of the multitude of alterations suggested by the editor. The most notable aspect of the material was the fact that so much of the proposed text had been struck through with a red pen. He rightly considered it would be best to wait until the manager came in, but meanwhile he would read it through several times. Surely, he thought, this would have to help! It didn’t.
On arrival, the manager of the publishing company was presented with the problem. He looked through the marked up copy before reading the note. He looked up and smiled at the clerk. “Ah! Yes, I see he didn’t have time.”
The clerk looked no less perplexed.
“Let me explain,” said the manager, reading as he went. “Owing to a farrago, that being a disordered mixture, of spatchcocks, meaning hurriedly inserted text, I had no time for omphaloskepsis, or navel-gazing. It would be a case of lucubration, meaning studying into the night, in my phrontistery, his place of study, in what would probably be a sisyphean, a futile activity, of sorting through the imbroglio, a confused mess, to identify the delenda, those things that needed to be deleted.”
He looked at his young employee and smiled encouragingly.
“He tends to talk like that, but as I said, he didn’t have time.”