T hat's the trouble with the English language, isn't it? It's too darned ambiguous.

You can hear the words.

You can read the words.

Heck, if you're blind, you can feel the words.

But do you really know what they're saying?

For instance, have you ever been disgruntled? I have bad news for you, if you have: you're still disgruntled. Always will be.

It only takes once, and that's it - you have to remain disgruntled forever.

There is no legitimate means within the English language to restore your gruntle, once it has been removed.

You cannot be regruntled.

Can't be done.

You cannot, no matter how hard you try, no matter how many dictionaries you use or abuse, regain your gruntle.

In fact, the most remarkable thing of it all - supposing, of course, that it was markable the first time - is that, although you must have at some point had a gruntle (no one in the entire English-speaking world, after all, can be ungruntled) there is no such thing as a gruntle in the first place - or even the second.

As a matter of fact, just thinking about it has left me discombobulated.

Oh, my God! (That's OMG for those of you too young to have experienced the language in its initial uninitialed state.)

It has just occurred to me that, like my gruntle - which I lost a long, long time ago - my combobulate is now gone forever, too.

The weak and meagre English language is unable to recombobulate me.

Perhaps that explains some of the difficulty that Langley school trustees seem to have with the English language. Perhaps it's not they who are hard to understand, perhaps it's the severe limitation of the language itself.

Now, forgive me, but I work with words, and frankly (actually, more sort of bobly), my friends sometimes accuse me of getting a bit pedantic about them.

The trouble is that, when words are put in front of me, I tend to search for meaning in them. Perhaps it's an occupational hazard.

In any case, I have this naive habit of assuming that the words mean what they say.

But aha! Not always so, it seems!

Take the school board's recent announcement of the "mutual" decision to effect the departure of now-former superintendent Cheryle Beaumont.

On first glance, one might naively assume that "mutual" referred to the board and Ms. Beaumont.

But as more information snuck out from behind the word, it emerged that "mutual" actually meant five of Langley's seven school trustees - regardless of whether or not that characterization may have surgically removed the gruntle from the remaining two trustees.

But as a wordsmith, I do admire the clever way that the five triumphant trustees' announcement about Beaumont developed an aura of free association with reality:

"The Board of Education regrets to announce to the school community that the Superintendent of Schools, Ms. Cheryle Beaumont, is leaving the School District to pursue other ventures. Ms. Beaumont is an outstanding Superintendent who has provided strong leadership through difficult times and who has accomplished much during her tenure for the students of Langley. The Board wishes Ms.

Beaumont every success in her future endeavours."

In fact, I would also certainly find myself "regretting" to announce that I had fired such an "outstanding" superintendent - and thusly disposing of hundreds, perhaps thousands of combobulates in one fell swoop.

- Bob Groeneveld is the editor of our sister paper, the Langley Advance.