Wednesday 26 November 2014

How do you like them Mishapples?

Hello to blogglers new and old! For the uninitiated, Mishaps is the kind of post where I share the gems of captionfails, mine and those of my colleagues, largely resulting from lapses in judgement on the part of the usually-excellent Dragon voice recognition software into which we murmur our days away.



Democracy in Hong Kong was the first cab off the rank this month. While Mong Kok may one day go down in history as the birthplace of Chinese democracy, “mong cock” as occasionally offered by Dragon might require a visit to the chemist and some awkward phone calls to former lovers. In a similarly intimate vein, the Gospels could certainly have been more fun if Jesus’ prophecy to Peter had climaxed when “the cock grows three times”, as Dragon inferred. Couldn’t help thinking of the Grinch’s condition.



It’s nice to see sophistry named for what it is in political debates, but Dragon decided Nigel Farage rather has to answer for his “soap history” – I guess no man should know that much about EastEnders. Farage also had plenty to say about EU bureaucracy – but since Dragon seems to kind of like paperwork, the captions instead offered “you rock receipt”. On the subject of UKIP, it was suggested we could “see coalitions” forming. Unfortunately, captions viewers were treated to the rather incomprehensible “sequel ocean is”. Personally, I didn’t think the Oceans sequels were so crash hot. Clooney kind of phoned them in.

And then I say “She looks like Julia Roberts.” Hilarious.


A random netball allocation provided some unintended entertainment. “Sweet netballing moves”, which is a valid if slightly vague observation about the state of play, was unfortunately captioned as “sweet and appalling moves”. Also instead of players who “wear bibs”, we had players who “wet beards”. Which to me sounds like a rather different game.

A dark, dark game.


Nature documentaries continue to provide counter-intuitive captioning fun. A particularly biodiverse environment was described as having a “huge variety” of birds. Unfortunately Dragon preferred “huge pariah tee” which sounds more like a controversial extra-large shirt. I laughed too at the lethargic pedagogy implied by “Galapagos taught us”. Taught us what? We may never know. Bunny domiciles were referred to as “rabbit warrants”, and I was heartened to hear those cotton-tailed homeowners knew their rights when the adorable rabbit cops came a-knocking. The rainforest canopy, we learned, offers woodland creatures the odd “shady brunch”. I can only infer surreptitious eggs benedicts and bootleg flat whites. Ducks took a turn for the emo, apparently having “wept feet”, and sparrows had their hip hop dreams dashed, due to having a “cracker-type beat” with which to eat their nuts and grains and so forth. And a wombat was referred to as a “big boy” by his handler, which is a fair observation. But Dragon took it in a very nihilistic direction, making him a “big void”.

Negative-space wombats next 5km.


Russian diplomacy remains a constant menace in the news. It perhaps doesn’t help when “in principle” support becomes “end printable support”. Those printouts could prove to be important. I did enjoy watching “Putin’s tirade” become “Putin’s Thai raid” though. When the man badly needs a chicken laksa…well, too bad for Ukraine I guess.

He may also enjoy French Canadian hangover food.


Usually Dragon is really good at context. But I’ve had problems before with countdowns. This time, we saw “Three, two, wine…” Hard to argue with his initiative.



Islamic State keep on making the news. Or more pedantically, “so-called Islamic State”. Awful, really. But it did make me laugh when Dragon rendered it “is Linux 8”. That wily OS.



Ebola is also still in the news, with Dragon unfortunately choosing to focus rather superficially on the fashion. Thus instead of “a full hazmat suit” we had “a fall hazmat suit”, presumably distinguished by a flirty off-the-shoulder hermetically sealed cardigan. And while international aid agencies need people who “can coordinate” their response, when captioned as “camcorder mate” it becomes that one guy who likes to record himself jumping off stuff and put it on YouTube. Presumably his heroic moment will come.

Immortality beckons.


Sometimes there’s a very fine line between right and wrong. Case in point: “children’s supply business” becomes “children supply business”. One makes toys, the other gets you on a watch list.



Sometimes it’s the simplest lines which go awry. Thus “there it is” became “buried as”, which turned an innocuous statement into a Kiwi synopsis of Kill Bill 2.

Buried as, bro.


Dragon keeps trying to convince me Indigenous Australians threw “returning meringues”. Who am I to disagree?



It was unfortunate when a character on a soap called “Evie” was named in a caption as “easy”. Not because it was wrong, but because spoilers!

Easy, let your hair hang down.


Dragon tried to convince viewers there was such a thing as “Barack architecture”. I wonder what that would look like?



This one was an offline file, so I had time to correct, and I knew I might need it. The presenter was talking like a pirate, and I figured I’d try my luck. For the record “me hearties” is interpreted by Dragon as “many parties”. I love how dogeish that sounds.

Wow.


Finally one from an overseas colleague, which apparently went to air during the news. “His Holiness the Pope” came out as “His whole penis the Pope.” ‘Nuff said.

“And then I said, consider it a Papal endowment!!”


Just to finish with, a few interesting things from the captioning world. This sketch on captioning beautifully demonstrates the problems which remain in unmediated voice recognition software. This paper on caption placement concisely analyses some excellent data on where our eyes tend to look while watching the captions. This BBC America ad for closed captions made me laugh. And this blog post on the choices we make as live captioners was well worth a read. Try as we might to be invisible and to translate faithfully, we always impose our own perspective.



Oh yeah, and after my last post decrying the unfortunate changes to captioning laws which were suggested by the Australian Federal Government, some good news. The changes were deferred, pending further input. I’m hopeful that means that now the changes won’t simply be waved through without resistance. Viewers, captioners and content creators have noticed – just in the nick of time.




Disclaimer.

Friday 31 October 2014

Ill Communication

So Malcolm Turnbull has just announced that captioning requirements will fall within the remit of the Government’s next adorably labelled “Red Tape Repeal Day ™” on 29 October. This is extremely troubling, as captioning requirements in Australia represent carefully designed, evidence-based policy which in their current form balance the needs of stakeholders, who include regular viewers, occasional viewers, content creators, broadcasters, captioners, advertisers and any data analysts who may use captioning output as metadata. Also, as some broadcasters hew tenaciously to the bare minimum of their legal captioning requirements, any loosening of the latter runs a very tangible risk of making your life worse if you use our services.

Not all red tape is bad you guys.


I’ll state at the outset that because these changes to captioning requirements form a small part of a much larger and fairly intricate repeal of broadcasting legislation, I’m relying on relevant sections of the explanatory memoranda authorised by Malcolm Turnbull and the initial report by Media Access Australia (who will no doubt have more to say in future). If I’ve misunderstood anything by not digging through the raw text of The Broadcasting and Other Legislation Amendment (Deregulation) Bill 2014 then please let me know.



The headline change is that free-to-air broadcasters will no longer have to report annually on their compliance or otherwise with captioning requirements. Instead, per Turnbull, “we are moving from annual reporting to a complaints-based approach”. There are a number of problems here. Broadcasters (and in some cases the third-party captioning companies they contract) are the ones best placed to collect data on their own captioning quality. Every time we have a loss, the supervisor at the front desk has to take action. To wake up the captioner, to find another captioner, to check the gateway, to scramble tech support, to contact the network – to do something. Once the crisis is over, they’re therefore perfectly situated to jot down a quick report. Time of day, amount of loss, reason, solution. Or when our accuracy slips below an acceptable threshold, we can refer back to our comprehensive text logs, as well as auditing them randomly to make sure all captioners are maintaining 97.5 or 98 percent. Networks will now only have to keep AV logs for 30 days. At our end we don’t keep comprehensive AV logs, but I assume the networks do anyway, for many reasons.

Why wouldn't they?


So the existing statutory annual report does not involve providers collecting any information we don’t already collect (a phrase Turnbull and Brandis seem to like). Annual reporting is just compiling the info we already have, and I would hope that my employers will continue to collect it anyway, so they can at least satisfy themselves as to their quality – never mind the regulations. As I’ve noted before, we already have a “complaints-based approach” as well. ACMA can hear and investigate complaints, and have done so a few times this year. So don’t be under the impression we’re adding any new types of scrutiny. This is purely about taking away accountability and eliminating records of shitty performance.



And there are some problems with a solely complaints-based model, which is a bit like dissolving the Tax Office and letting people just dob in their tax-dodging neighbours. Viewers don’t necessarily know their rights with respect to captioning. If a show isn’t captioned, they can’t necessarily be sure that it’s required to be. They might complain only to find it exempt from the requirements, or they might not complain because they don’t know they can, or don’t know who to contact, or what kinds of accuracy to expect. If like so many, for instance, you were under the impression we type fast on a normal keyboard, you might be so dazzled by our speed as to be unduly tolerant of bad performance, or bewildered by all the homophones and uncertain whether to complain. Programs with a civically-engaged viewership, like Mediawatch or The Project, might get dozens of complaints in the event of a sloppily captioned episode, but a dodgy Monster Trucks Almanac might get far fewer. We mustn’t be in the business of discrimination.

But instead the business of awesome.


The next part includes a kernel of sensible policy, but still causes some consternation. ACMA will be required to take into account whether a program is pre-recorded or live, or (most intriguingly) a combination of both, when determining whether captions are up to scratch. In itself this may provide a more nuanced analytical instrument. Our standards do and should vary between pre-recorded and live content – our workflow certainly does. The danger of introducing this in the context of red-tape-obliteration is that live (or “late” – where the media gets to us beforehand but too late for the more involved offline captioning process) could become a get-out-of-jail-free, where the networks justify substandard content by calling it live. There is also a proposal to make “engineering or technical failures” a cause of exemption. While I hate having my accuracy stats compromised by technical failures, the simple problem here is that the engineering, too, forms part of the networks’ responsibilities. Now they will have less incentive to build and maintain backup and redundancy plans, and to exceed their captioning requirements in case something goes awry. Caption an extra hour every day and you can afford an hour-long catastrophe, any day of the year. They may have less incentive to give us early access to files, or to make scripts and other resources available which improve live captioning. I just fear it will manifest as an overall loosening of the standard.



A similar concern accompanies the planned extension of the deadline to apply for exemptions to captioning standards. I’m not bureaucrat or wonk enough to know the implications of this – I just make captions. But prima facie it looks like a less stringent standard. Like more things may slide.



Things are definitely gonna slide, in all directions but up, as a result of the plan to let associated groups of sports channels “average” across their networks to meet their targets. As it stands now, each individual channel must meet its targets. In some circumstances, such as during the Olympics or World Cup, which may show for example on two of their five channels, they will voluntarily exceed their requirements on those channels. This change, though, would let them use that voluntary and commercially viable exceeding of the rules as a licence to neglect their other targets. Sports networks usually have a predictable weekly schedule and caption accordingly, so it will also likely increase viewer uncertainty about where to expect captions. A sport which required captions last week to meet the quota might not this week, solely because the Commonwealth Games is on the other network. And this too decreases incentives on networks to exceed requirements, in case of technical faults or other problems.



The next requirement is that new subscription TV channels will be granted a 12-month exemption from captioning requirements. This kind of just makes me sad. A start-up TV channel obviously has its work cut out for it and I understand the impulse to make it easier on them. Anything for a bit of media diversity. But a brand new channel is also such an opportunity. If they had even a modest captioning requirement from the start, they would be more likely to build-in efficient systems and procedures, which could then be scaled up. The worst captioning clients to work with are those for whom we are an afterthought (or non-thought), the best are those for whom we are part of the production process.



The last proposal is that programs previously captioned on a different subscription channel will no longer have to be captioned. Firstly, I don’t like it because it discourages networks from including caption files with programs they sell or repeat, which is totally a thing that can be done. Secondly, it sounds a bit like a butchered response to Media Access Australia’s suggestion that, since quotas are confusing, and tracking what is a repeat is difficult, simple 24-hour quotas should be substituted. The profit motive should ensure that the low-hanging fruit of repeat captions get picked anyway. Of course, there doesn’t seem to be anything here about strengthening quotas, so I guess the point is diminished responsibility.

“You wouldn’t like me when I’m disappointed.”


The net effect is an overall decline in standards, stringency and enforcement. I want to finish by illustrating, though, how this will not just potentially, but certainly, damage the quality of captions. As I’ve mentioned, this 98% accuracy standard I maintain for my respeaking means one word in 50 is wrong. At the start of this sentence, this paragraph was at 51 words, so imagine an error in every block of text that size. Now, I maintain it by usually having about 30 minutes of prep or standby time rostered for every 30-minute live session, or before each block of three or four “15-on, 15-off”cycles. Live is live – if I’m unprepared I can still do my thing. But for every minute less prep time, I have to cut corners. Since it’s NFL season, I’ll use the example of an American college football game. Let’s say there’s a game on between the Massachusetts Coffee-Preferers and the New Mexico Coverups. The captioner has had a crash, and their co-pilot isn’t available. A supervisor puts me on the air, and I immediately start talking. Now while on the air, I’ll engage my NFL house-style. I’ll google the teams and put their quarterbacks in my temporary macro slots, then do the same with the coaches. My Dragon won’t know the player names, and I can’t program them in while live (American football teams are huge). But with the playmakers locked in, at least some of what the commentators say can be transmitted without saying “this fellow threw the ball to that fellow, and this other fellow blew the whistle as the first fellow was tackled by yet a third fellow…”. All this googling also means I’m not watching my output, and so any Dragon errors will definitely go uncorrected. It’s good enough for emergencies, but hardly optimal.



Let’s imagine the same situation but with five minutes of prep. Now I can google teams, organise player names into easy-to-read lists and copy them in as required once I’m on the air. I’ll still start off with the quarterbacks and coaches ready to hand, and now I can watch my captions go out while I’m live. A quick sequence of passes will still be beyond me, as I can only juggle a few names at a time this way, but it’s an improvement.



10 minutes of prep, and I’m doing the above but also training the names (both surnames and full names) into my Dragon. So instead of saying “macro one” I’ll actually be saying “Jafarius Jones III”. Now we’re getting somewhere, though once on air I find that half the time it’s coming out as “Jeff ARIAs Joan’s a turd”.



20 minutes of prep, and I start getting time to practice each name off-air, maybe using in a sentence. I see what works, what needs re-training, what needs a house-style to correct an obvious homophone. Now the player names will be a pretty well-oiled machine (I still keep the list open in case something goes pear-shaped). But then they start talking about past player Steeve Stevesen, whose record is about to be broken that day, and back-room talks about who has been approached to replace flagging coach Nigel Blowhard, and I’m a bit lost.



So with the full 30 minutes, I’ve also skimmed a few sports pages, harvesting the names of other coaching candidates Felix Moneyball and John Lapsalot, and finding out the details of Stevesen’s record. I’ve also got the name of the stadium (the Starbucks-Sons of Liberty Arena) and found its nickname (Whipless-Mochachino-Freedom Park). That and only that is how to exceed 98%.



The captioning industry is competitive, and we already don't have enough prep time. Whoever can satisfy the requirements for the lowest price will get the contract, and captioning companies undercut each other on price. There is no possible world where reduced requirements in volume and accuracy won’t be passed on to captioning companies in the form of pricing pressure. Which must then be passed on to captioners in the form of decreased preparation time. Which must then be passed on to viewers in the form of unreadable nonsense. The only winner is the networks’ profit margins, and you, dear reader – I’m going to have so many mishaps to report in the future.



Disclaimer.

Thursday 9 October 2014

The Latest in Captioning

So this will be a bit of a shameless variety pack of captioning stuff. A few choice mishaps, some fascinating links from around the captioning world, and a little about some new developments.



Firstly the mishaps. Wars in Iraq and Syria remain extremely fertile ground from which errors can blossom for the unwary respeaker. So I found myself accidentally reporting on "the international hair campaign against Islamic State". Guess David Cameron is really getting serious about split ends. Although I just cancelled this before it could hit the air, it would have been most alarming to report on "the yeti community hiding on Mount Sinjar". Though one would think yetis can pretty much take care of themselves. Less fortunate - I found within a colleague's text logs the brilliant call for "moderate bosoms to condemn these attacks". So unfair how D-cups are never called upon to distance themselves from extremism. And there was something a bit sinister about the military analyst who according to Dragon was proposing (regarding IS) to "nick it in the bath". I rather thought that kind of theft was an urban legend.



In UK news, Lib Dem promises regarding tuition fees have made the news lately. So it was a shame when a colleague had it come out as "Jewish and fierce," which sounds like an uncommonly flamboyant rabbi. And finally a piece on the expansion of one of our clients' catch-up services went awry, when during the intro, "TV fans who missed out" emerged as "TV fancy mister". Which I can only gather looks something like this:

We have fun.

So the first bit of online wonderfulness I came across this week is in a similar vein. Karen Corbel has compiled ridiculously misheard weather captions into a poem. Made me think of the poem I posted earlier from DragonPad corrections. Wonder if anyone else is discovering poetry in live captions?

I assume that's how the first draft of Beowulf started.

Next up, a really interesting New York Times article y'all should read about translation captioning. I can't say a whole lot about that side of things as it isn't my area, but the time-coding aspect is part of what we do in offline captioning. Can be very time-consuming. I feel their pain also on trying to caption Godzilla when the truncated lifespans of the victims mean that sentences never properly end. The same problem occurs (for less satisfying reasons) on the more tabloid of chat shows.


Speaking of things which aren't necessarily my area, I read an interesting piece on the development of the typefaces used for closed captioning. Probably lucky it's not up to me, I'd do Tony Abbott in Comic Sans out of spite.



Last up, some interesting industry politics. Media Access Australia have proposed a shift in captioning requirements for the "multichannels" (ABC2 etc). Currently (though some may exceed requirements) they only have to caption repeats from the primary channel. It essentially means the technology and personnel needed to caption on those channels needs to be maintained, but no new captioning content need be created. MAA proposes a shift to a simpler, more expansive, and more enforceable quota system.


Finally a little bit of news. I mentioned in discussing sport that viewers of scrolling captions need to spend around 88 percent of their time watching the captions, compared with only 67 percent for block captions. I also noted the difficulties in offering block captions live. As I mentioned in discussing news though, there are actually substantial pre-scripted elements in a live news broadcast. Well, for these hybrid-captioning broadcasts, we may soon be able to offer a real-time blend of block and scrolling captions. Once we get our heads around the extra work required, it could be a much smoother experience for our viewers.



Disclaimer.

Friday 26 September 2014

You always tell me - mishaps, mishaps, mishaps.

Welcome to another bumper edition of “things my voice recognition software thought I was saying and hilariously put on the air”!



Captioning the weather remains a little fraught – on cooler mornings we’ve seen predictions of “Mr Fogg”, in lieu of mist and fog. That guy is such a damp squib. In a similar vein, the weather was due to turn “Uncle Gene you will” (and here’s me thinking “uncongenial” makes more sense). Uncle Gene, you will always ruin our picnics. Another gentleman made an unexpected appearance in a parenting segment – we heard of young children “going through that Todd LaFace”. Call me old fashioned, but I find it easier to go around him.

Though Mr LaFace can be stubborn.


We’ve been hearing from an assortment of world leaders in the run up to the latest apocalypses. Among them, French president “France were blonde”. I guess France has been touching up its roots, or perhaps there is new polling data showing gentlemen prefer Hollandes. I think the best thing there is Dragon thinking I must pronounce it as a bisyllabic “buh-LONDE”, which is tremendously Mean Girls. Now while I understand that challenging Russia militarily and diplomatically doesn’t present easy options, I was surprised to read, right there in my own captions, President Obama suggesting “imposing tough Saxons on Putin”. Cold War II just turned surprisingly creative-anachronist.



Lots too on the subject of the Scottish independence referendum (when will we see its like again?). One salient point is that compared with the Westminster elite, Scotland’s parliament is described as more egalitarian. Or as a colleague alarmingly captioned it, “more Gaelic Aryan”. Lots of criticism in all quarters for how the debate was covered by various media – though I think it’s a bit drastic that Dragon suggested “the media must come under intense strychnine”. Scrutiny would probably suffice. One of our news clients promised to provide “up the date information” on the debate, proving there is indeed a fine line between information and too much information. We heard a bit about Mary Pitcaithly, the Chief Counting Officer in the referendum. She was previously awarded an OBE, but Dragon thought she had received “adobe”. Which I guess means she can either edit PDFs, or live in a cool house in Santa Fe. The currency question also gave me some grief as a captioner. Dragon bestowed upon the Bank of England “regular tree power”. And when I went to correct it, Dragon eagerly jumped in with “regular Tory power”. Evidently a Yes-voting Dragon.

Aye.


In assorted other on-air mishaps: texting while driving was described as a “nude driving hazard”. Novelty and nudity are after all so interchangeable. That story saw modern cars described as “social media-mobiles”, and I remembered a split second too late that “mobiles” when not preceded by “auto” isn’t pronounced like that. Sure enough, out came “mauve eels”. A contest during a breakfast program was started by the host with the words “one, two, three, goat!” I must admit to having to switch off my mic for a second to avoid putting my laughter to air. It’s always interesting how one error can precipitate another. Thus with a phrase like “really stick my neck out”, an understandable initial error snowballs into the incomprehensible “realistic iMac out”.

Well played, Google Image.


In offline captioning (thankfully non-live, so corrected before airing), some beautiful things happened in a nature documentary. I learned that “the monotreme family consists of platypus and UKIP.” No wonder Nigel Farage can be so prickly. We then heard that platypus in captivity are fed “yuppies”. While I accept that they probably meant an Australian freshwater crustacean, I am deeply enamoured with the idea of a carnivorous class warrior monotreme. And then of course, we had echidnas using their lengthy noseparts to “fish for termites in trees and blogs”. Guess I’d better watch my step. We were after all warned that they aren’t safe to “pat and Kabul” – I’m not sure Kabul is ever perfectly safe. Finally the program crossed to Shark Bay in WA, which my Dragon didn’t recognise as a place, instead suggesting “shark bait NWA”. I may not have the confidence to diss Dr Dre, but evidently Dragon does, so kudos.



Finally, one last bit of silliness from captioning Catholic mass. A Gospel reading focusing on John the Baptist saw him telling the religious leaders of the day, “I am not the Prophet”. But Dragon, sensing a familiar phrase, rendered it as “I am not-for-profit”. Good to know, JBap – be sure to put that on your tax return.

“Can I get a receipt for that?”



Disclaimer.

Tuesday 23 September 2014

The obscene on-screen: Captioning vulgarity

I love me some vulgarity. A well-delivered obscenity, preferably during the most serious and sacred of occasions, is a thing of mighty fusking cloth-prunking loveliness. And anything which enhances the residual purity and primness against which the swearing cuts is all the better. That’s why a dirty vicar, a trash-talking Barbie doll, or the pristine received pronunciation of Stephen Fry can represent swearing at its most delicious.


There are some interesting practical and ethical considerations, then, when it comes to captioning obscenity. Television is itself the kind of sacred space which makes for a really delightful foray into the blue. In the fact of its very broadcast identity, it forms a backdrop of irreducible publicity, coupled with intimate domesticity. It comes into your house, and that of your teacher, boss and grandparent, as well as the proverbial town square, and says a great deal that is unsayable (interesting then that the HBO network feels the need to deny its very identity as TV).

Even setting aside timeslot-, network-, and location-specific rules governing the profane, the potential scope of the audience lends significance to any outbreak of unwonted colour. All the more so in any market where the operative standards of journalistic professionalism, or sponsorial squeamishness, or a more “family” audience hold sway (for as we all know, angry teenagers, independent adults and the mature of mind can’t be “family”).

Family guy.

Captions contain yet another dimension of sanctity – that of the written word. I mentioned in discussing caption accuracy the heightened standards of polish to which we naturally hold written prose, and the resultant tensions in transcribing the spoken word. Here too, such sanctity comes into play. There is arguably an added punch to seeing, in neatly scrolling printed subtitles, a commentator calling her colleague festering dunderhead, compared with merely hearing the muttered words.


So we must wield our power with caution, doubly so when bearing in mind the technology of voice captioning. Our Anglophone swear words are etymologically diverse, but whether Romantic, Germanic, Norman or the many shades of “other” (and Melissa Mohr has done some fascinating work on the different historical taboos which manifest in different cultures’ litanies of vulgarity), they’re very often ancient, fundamental, and monosyllabic. As attested to by any bawdy limerick, they rhyme easily and diversely. George Carlin discovered that this delightful musicality extends both to exemplifying and alluding to vulgarity. Take a minute out of your day and watch this:


“Dirty, filthy, foul, vile, vulgar, coarse. In-poor-taste, unseemly, street-talk, gutter-talk, locker-room language, barracks talk. Bawdy, naughty, saucy, raunchy. Rude, crude, lewd, lascivious, indecent, profane, obscene, blue, off-colour. Risqué, suggestive, cursin’, cussin’, swearin’. And all I could think of were shit, piss, fuck, cunt, cocksucker, motherfucker and tits.”


Carlin had a number of famous routines built around the last seven words, which is why the crowd begins applauding when he reaches them. They outline a kind of classical swearology, most notably augmented today by a set of no-longer-acceptable epithets denoting (and enacting) discrimination. The array of short, sharp and unacceptable racial slurs is perhaps ironically a paragon of diversity, and they too trend monosyllabical and easy to say. Our vulgarities are so fundamental that we can describe them as the N-word, the F-word, the C-word etc, and be easily understood.

Sequels suck.

So when you’re in the business of talking into a microphone and having imperfect voice recognition software convert it into text, and put it immediately on the air, certain precautions need to be taken. All that stuff I said about rhyming monosyllables becomes a liability – the “chef’s pick” of huevos rancheros on your morning lifestyle show must never become the “chef spick”. Also, I mentioned imperfect software – now, when you’re sitting alone in a room and your computer isn’t behaving, what kind of language do you use to work through your frustration? Know, dear reader, that the presence of a hot mic linked to millions of television sets does not make one immune to this kind of reaction.

HELLOOOO. Is it MEEE you’re looking FOOOR?

So there are two possible ways of dealing with the combination of software-generated profanity and human indiscipline. One could manage Dragon’s dictionary, screening out some words so they literally can’t be understood and transcribed. Or one could create a house style which autocorrects by either blanking out the offending words or replacing them with the likely variant (“can’t” is the most obvious here).


The disadvantage of the former is that it fails to pick up anything typed, while permanently hobbling our ability to create uncensored live speech. So onto the house style option – once upon a time, swearing fell under the domain of our company-wide “miscellaneous” house style, which also corrects a number of common errors. As we took on some more adult panel-discussion shows, however, this became unworkable as it meant the ability to swear (by disengaging “miscellaneous”) carried with it the ability to make unnecessary common mistakes.
No, wait, I mean “4, 8, 15, 16…”

So we now have a separate, slimmer swearing house style. When it’s on, swearing gets corrected and elided. When it’s off, Dragon can embrace its inner sailor.


So I mentioned ethical considerations. Inappropriately putting obscenities into the mouths of innocent speakers is only half of that equation. Far more important, in my opinion, is that we don’t patronise our viewers by censoring in translation. I started this post with a look at the potency and elegance of many of these words – the corollary of that is that if they crop up, intentionally or not, in an appropriate context or not, there’s a good chance they’re important. They’re what will drive the water cooler discussions the next day, and will thus be necessary for true accessibility – for caption viewers to fully participate in the cultural life of our society. Live captioners all have “(BLEEP)” programmed in, so we can pass on any network censorship (including dipped or blanked-out words, which aren’t technically a bleep but are expressed as such for simplicity), and I keep “effing” and “N-word” and so on programmed in as folks on prime-time shows sometimes literally say that. But if they don’t, we have a duty of honesty. Also, y’know, a decent percentage of our viewers can lip-read, so condescending censorship might be both irritating and obvious.

Seamless

I might close with an anecdote. I was captioning a late-night stint on a 24-hour news channel. I had my rundown looking pristine, and I’d tidied the previous hour’s interviews, crosses and pre-recorded VTs. My “miscellaneous”, “RC’s personal” and “swearing” house styles were all on, and the newsroom was sticking pretty well to the rundown. The anchor threw to a sequence recorded the previous hour outside Westminster (“earlier our correspondent sent this…”). Then something magical happened. They rolled a tape from the right journalist, in the right location, but the “in-words” (the first words of the package) were subtly different from what I remembered, and from what I’d saved. I started respeaking, while scanning what I had, in case it was merely re-cut. About 20 words in though, the bells for which Big Ben is justly famous began to toll. The journalist let fly a hearty “Fucking hell!” and then stared silently into the camera, waiting for them to finish so he could start again. The silence pretty much became sentient.


It wasn’t live, but an accidentally-rolled out-take, so he had no urgency or contrition, and the anchor was expecting 60 seconds or so of pre-recorded package, and was decidedly unprepared. That was what saved me – an awkward silence in which to dump the text I had prepped for that story, and quickly type in the bells tolling (an unimportant sound which suddenly mattered). But now I had a problem. It takes a few seconds to disengage a house style, and this lovely moment was going to evaporate very soon. Luckily, we’re permitted to distinguish regional accents, provided we don’t go overboard. And I realised that in fact, in my opinion, what he had actually said was “Farkin’ hell!”, which the house style shouldn’t catch. No time for second thoughts, so I typed it and pressed send. In this case a bleep or other self-censored form of the word would have been actively misleading. The whole meaning of this happy accident revolved around a candid, unfiltered moment, a moment when the veil of professionalism was lifted from TV journalism. And who doesn’t love that?



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