Under the headline “Apology”, the monthly lifestyle title says:

“In our January and February 2009 issues of Cotswold Life we published a number of articles focused on upcoming events in the county which included original material taken, without permission, from the website www.soglos.com. We are very sorry that we failed to seek permission, and we are therefore pleased to take this opportunity to apologise to SoGlos.com.”

Is this all the consequence of editorial cutbacks my mole wonders (tellingly they describe themselves as an ex-staffer for Costwold Life parent company Archant).

Sacha Baron Cohen isn’t just upsetting sections of the gay community with his latest movie, Brüno. He’s causing all manner of confusion for sub-editors at The Guardian.

First, subs received this email:

A note about Brüno’s umlaut

Hello - it looks like our diligence with the umlaut may be scuppering

our SEO, as everyone’s searching without umlaut.

So please could you leave out the umlaut from headline, link-text, standfirst, trail and slugwords.

Many thanks

Catherine

Next came this:

Re: A note about Brüno’s umlaut

Just clarify that:

- we should still use the umlaut in print headlines.

- we should launch web stories without the umlaut in the furniture

- once the article appears on Google*, we should update the furniture and put the umlaut back in.

* you can check this by searching for the headline in quote marks on Google.

thanks

Celine

Finally (or possibly not), subs received this:

SUBS  PLEASE READ:

Bruno’s umlaut -  update

Hello,

re: Sacha Baron Cohen’s film Brüno

In a change to last night’s instruction, from now on please do not use an umlaut in the headlines and furniture for web stories.

Print headlines should still use the umlaut however.

Web subs, you can change headlines on front pages to include the umlaut.

thanks

Celine

I fear hackette Tanya Gold is about to lose another friend … all because she felt the need to tell Guardian readers how she hates wedding lists.

On Wednesday she wrote: “Three weeks I ago I received a wedding list from a friend. Let me be more accurate. She used to be a friend, but as her wedding looms she has been replaced by a shape-shifting, John Lewis-icking monster.”

The friend’s error was to want “ice-crushers and cookbook holders and spoons. Give them to me, she squawks through her John Lewis proxy, because I am in love - and that means I get consumer durables for free! I demand a new kitchen - and you will pay for it!”

Gold favours another type of wedding gift.

“I will take my friend out for dinner … Although I suspect she will probably stick the cutlery in her bag and take it home.”

When the article appeared on the Guardian website, it didn’t take long for Gold’s poor friend to deliver her verdict. In a comment posted on Wednesday lunchtime (a time when the hungry hack was unlikely to be at her computer), someone called Jo Holland wrote:

“As the bride referred to in the piece I should point out that Tanya was invited to my wedding but no wedding list was included in her invitation because I know how much she hates them.

“I do have a wedding list at John Lewis which I can appreciate is bourgeois but we decided that it would be practical, though by no means compulsory. The irony in all this is that I really, really don’t care about gifts and have never even brought the subject up with Tanya (my dress, I concede is another matter). It might sound trite but all I want is a happy unforgettable day surrounded by people I love. My wedding is less than a month away and frankly, Tanya I don’t want any spoons but I’m not sure that I want you at my wedding either.”

Oh dear, another weekend at home beckons for poor old Tanya.

Sadly, Piers decided the word coined by Fry was “too rude even to repeat in this column”.

For those who may not have heard Fry on that famous edition of I’m Sorry I Haven’t a Clue, Axegrinder is happy to reveal that the word in question was “countryside”.

Just as the Telegraph is allowing us to look into hitherto hidden areas of MPs’ affairs, so this desire to reveal all is extending to its own website, right down to Home Affairs Editor Tom Whitehead asking publicly: “Can I say Baby P’s killer?”

Axegrinder feels this is perhaps taking glasnost too far.

And, no, you can’t say “killer”. But thanks for asking.

Once iPlayer opens skip to 30 minutes and 20 seconds in to hear Allen read the news headlines at 1.30pm. 

And one imagines that it was only for reasons of good taste and decency that the paper declined to explain the reference to a “cuddly toy”. Shame.

Nine News’s website gives an edited taste of her account (”There were these two [men] fighting… The fatter [man] said to the skinnier [man], ‘Oi bro, you slept with my cousin’.”

But, as the unedited film of the interview reveals, her actual words were shockingly different and it’s astonishing they are still on the Nine News website.

Axegrinder can’t wait for the day she appears in court as a witness.

First woman, pointing at tall, glum-looking, bespectacled chap : “Look at that man’s hair. Do you think it’s a wig? It’s extraordinary!”

Second woman: “I don’t know. Why would you buy a wig like that?”

Axegrinder intervened to explain that the man in question was Mark Byford, deputy director-general of the BBC, and, no, it was not a wig but his very own hair.

“Really?” replied the first woman. “You’d think he could afford a good hairdresser.”

For the concert, Byford sat in the front row upstairs and looked a picture of misery from beginning to end … which may give the BBC Concert Orchestra cause for concern.

Here’s a touching tale that suggests relations between the press and the police aren’t as bad as some would have us believe.

An officer was pounding his beat in the King’s Cross area on the evening of May 8 when he came across a rather unpleasant sight — a young man, clearly the worse for wear, enjoying a very public piss.

Alongside him stood his girlfriend and another man. They both looked highly embarrassed.

The officer waited while the drunk concluded what he was doing and had zipped up then went to make an arrest. As he did so, the drunk wisely managed to string together some coherent sentences.

He explained that he had attended the Regional Press Awards earlier that day, where he had been nominated for a top prize. He had failed to win and had been drowning his sorrows ever since.

The chap with him, who was now holding his head in his hands, was his boss, the editor of a daily newspaper.

Astonishingly, the cop took pity on him. Why? His brother was also a journalist (indeed one who’s been involved with Press Gazette in the past) and so the officer let him off with a warning.

But he declined the reporter’s invitation to shake hands.