You were always going to be on rocky ground, TV's Professor B Cox, sitting on a sun-dappled Oxfordshire hillside and proclaiming it to be "July 10th".
Bl00dy Americanizm.
That might have been me
Might also have been Sam'l Pepys, were he not somewhat deceased.
Meanwhile I, having in idle moments scraped the barrel of Netflix's bottom to watch a few episodes of the cardboard Phryne Fisher, was punished for my gutter-dredging by having my ears twice hammered by the exclamation "he's fitting!" Not seeing why the gent lying a-quiver on the floor might be appropriate to anything, I took this to mean that he was having a fit - maybe for corsets and they were too tight, or possibly an epileptic seizure; which latter did prove to be the case. Yet another case of ignorance combined with insouciance, both probably from Hy Brasil or Vinland but undeniably recent, twisting crystal-clear language into Grauniad knots. Somewhat out of place in the mouth of a superannuated antipodean flapper in 1928.
Ditto the phrase "15 minutes and counting" from a contemporary gent, "and counting" having leaked into the vernacular from Cape Canaveral via TV in the 1960s. But what else can you expect when the script-writers are evidently only 10 years old?
However, neither instance can compare with that of Cesare Borgia bellowing "medic!" down the corridors of the Vatican. That's my favourite so far.