What the Dickens?

My first memories of the British Broadcasting Corporation was the 2030 news which would ping into our home on our German Radio, with my father anxiously waiting for news of our ongoing war over Bangladesh, with Pakistan ( 1971 ). When India was giving the enemy a pasting in East Pakistan, there would be an easy smile on his face, but if we were taking a few body blows in the West, his mood would be somber.
Amidst all the action, the enduring mystery to me was why we had to get news of our war from far away Britain. Anyway, it was from that time, that I’ve been hooked to the BBC & have always marveled at British English and the wonderful diction that the news readers have.
So the other day, when the BBC channel, suddenly popped up on my TV (It wasn’t offered for quite a while by my cable operator) I was thrilled and as the clear Brit accent floated through our living room, I summarily summoned my son, to enjoy the BBC news. My son who apparently was playing a game of soccer between Liverpool & Chelsea on our PC was a reluctant visitor and a little annoyed as to what the fuss was all about. His rather lukewarm response to BBC did nothing to dampen my spirits and BBC has been the order of the day over the last week or so.
I have grown up on a staple diet of Sir Conon Doyle, Shakespeare and Wodehouse and have not been a great fan of American authors and keep a safe distance from the nasal twang that our friends from the Americas adopt. This also is a common theme around the dining table as my son has firmly set his sights on the US of A. To cut a long story short, I was a little surprised to see my son waving the main paper of the TOI at me. Surprised because he normally restricts himself to the Bangalore Times section which lists the latest gossip, movies and such other news of critical importance. He was drawing my attention to a small column, which talks about a letter the Prime Minister of Britain, had written to the mother of a soldier who had died fighting in Afghanistan. Not only was the lady’s name misspelled but there were other mistakes in spelling, causing the lady to throw the letter in disgust compounding her grief. (as reported). Gordon Brown has since apologized for the brouhaha and has promised to send a correctly worded letter.
My son had a twinkle in his eye & a smirk on his face even as I was left speechless. Are the Brits losing the last vestiges of their days of glory? Thus far they had at least clung on to the English language. Is that going down the tube as well?
My favorite fictional character Bertie Wooster would have screwed his monocle tighter into his eye socket and exclaimed ‘What the Dickens?’, while sadly shaking his head in disappointment.
What effect has the episode had on me? I have decided that as legitimate legatees of the Brits and their language, my correspondence, henceforth will be sans compare and in keeping with that have hidden my son's dog eared copy of 'Eragon' and have replaced it with, 'The Sign of Four', where Sherlock Holmes grapples with a few Aborigines from the Andamans!
As for the grieving lady my heart goes out to her...................