Let’s do this together

We were browsing the second-hand book stalls that have been outside the British Film Institute on London’s South Bank since I was a child, when The Dark Lord piped up: “Porn books?”

I’d had my nose stuck in an old Jilly Cooper, so I looked up a bit shame-faced and defended my choice of reading material.

“It’s a bit racy but not exactly porn,” I explained. But The Dark Lord pointed to a sign on the book stall. “Not your book – these books!”

I read the handwritten sign and laughed, a bit relieved. “No,” I told her, “that says ‘Pan’ as in Pan Books, it’s an old publisher, like Penguins.”

“Oh,” she replied, “I was gonna say, it’s a bit rude to have them next to the kids’ section!”

We then went on to have a conversation about the series of teenage love books by American author Judy Bloom I used to read at her age, and when I discovered not everything translated across the pond. I admitted: “It’s where I read all about hickeys and turtlenecks, and for years I thought it was referring to some sort of revolting skin disease you get from love bites. We didn’t have Dr Google back then!”

The Dark Lord wasn’t the only one to make an embarrassing mistake this week.

I had to drop an email to one of her teachers about a school trip, and instead of typing: “Dear Sarah,” I wrote, “Dear Satan”. Luckily the teacher found it quite amusing and replied: “I hope I’m not THAT evil in the classroom.”

But my favourite text typo was the one I sent to my old friend Andy, who I didn’t know had lost his old phone and couldn’t recognise my number on his new mobile.

I typed: “Dead Andy,” and sent it too soon, only to get his shocked reply before I could send my correction. “Who is this? I’m calling the police.”

Have you had an epic email or text fail? Email me your boo-boos at siobhan.mcnally@mirror.co.uk or write to Community Corner, PO Box 791, Winchester SO23 3RP.