MUCH heralded, the grotesquely titled Accomodating Brocolli in the Cemetary - a bit like Eats, Shoots and Leaves but described as "a delightful compendium rather than a zero tolerance guide" - is published tomorrow.

Compiled by Vivian Cook, professor of applied linguistics at Newcastle University, it's sub-titled "Why can't anybody spell?" and backed by US president Andrew Jackson's that it's a damn poor mind which can only think of one way to spell a word.

From the "difficult words" spelling test, here are ten particularly tricky examples. Readers are invited to nominate which of three alternatives is correct - answers at the foot of the column.

Dessicate, desiccate, desicate; ecstasy, exstacy, ecstacy; milenium, millenium, millennium; minuscule, miniscule, minniscule; liaison, liaision, liason; ocurence, occurrence, occurence; pronounciation, pronounceation, pronunciation; questionnaire, questionairre, questionaire; embarass, embaras, embarrass; iresistible, irresistable, irresistible.

SINCE Smith's on Darlington railway station didn't open until 10am on bank holiday Monday - what sort of paper shop is that? - we fell on the journey northwards to reading the Virgin on-train audio guide. It includes "Romance from the Gadfly" by Shostakovich. Don't you just love it?

ANOTHER classic, last week's column kicked about the subject of seggetty and tacketty boots and the difference between segs and tacks.

Mr Pete Winstanley's query over whether "tacketty boots" has any link to "ticketty-boo" may probably be regarded as frivolous in a column as erudite as this one. Bill Tennant, now in Durham, recalls that in his Clydeside childhood his grandfather fixed his boots - "and everyone else's" - with tacks, simple small nails. "Segs were the Rolls Royce. Why spend lots of money on them when everyone had tacks?"

Chris Stewart, BBC TV's North-East chief reporter, reckons that in his 70s schooldays, "segs" were considered different from "Blakey's", though it was Blakey's in Leeds who probably made them.

"Blakey's were crescent shaped, specifcally designed for the heel and had the word "Blakey" stamped on them. What he would refer to as segs were smaller - "in the shape of Dairylea slices with the sharp end chopped off. "

Chris supposes the word to be short for "segment", in that when hammered together they formed a complete crescent. He is undoubtedly correct.

SEGS appeal and sex appeal may even have been synonymous, of course. Elizabeth Steele in Staindrop recalls that her school didn't allow boys to wear such things, but that the lad who delivered their groceries sported them with polished pride.

Seggitty boots were considered glamorous. "I had a terrible crush on him," concedes Elizabeth. "Later he won a scholarship to the school and with the ban, the glamour faded. Sic transit gloria."

BOB Harbron in Norton-on-Tees also recalls that, though Britain was in deep depression and seriously on its uppers, boots both tacketty and seggitty were banned when the new Frederick Nattrass school opened thereabouts in 1933.

Though it caused embarrassment for a number of boys (and girls) who hadn't socks, there were those who hadn't shoes, either - prompting the mayor of Stockton to set up a "boot fund" in the borough. Teachers would also buy "sandys" - PE shoes - to help out.

Since we're in this with boot feet now, Bob also recalls that Reed's, a grocery business on Norton green from 1834-1960, had a glass fanlight above the shop door on which the legend "Grocers to the gentry" was inscribed in gold lettering.

Not to be outdone, a shoemaker called Green in Ridley Yard had a similar sign. "Cobblers to the gentry," it said. The business, alas, closed in the 1960s.

MUSING upon where babies come from, last week's column supposed that it was only boys who were found beneath gooseberry bushes, and that little girls were left in parsley beds.

Since we've already heard from the BBC, Rob Williams at Tyne Tees Television suggests that parsley bed is "an old euphemism for the area of the female anatomy where Ruskin was famously surprised to find hair."

He may be getting a little near the watershed.

THE other matter which greatly concerned last week's column was the origin of the phrase "the dogs' bollocks", meaning the very best and somewhat improbably said to owe its origin to the Meccano set.

It's in that connection that we've heard from Alan Chesterton, once in Darlington and now in Morpeth. "Four or five paper shops in Morpeth sell The Northern Echo if you're up early enough to get it," he says.

Alan's a live music man, among his favourite bands Los Cojones del Perro "bluesy, country, great guitarist" - led by Bruce Campbell, who by day also manages the HSBC bank in Cramlington.

His view is confirmed by Richard Slade, owner of the spendid Magnesia Bank pub in North Shields. "One of our most popular bands, very good indeed," he says.

Spanish sun seekers will already have translated, of course. Los Cojones del Perro is Spanish for "the dogs' bollocks."

THE shop on Durham bus station has a shop not only advising that cigarettes won't be sold to under 18s but that neither Cafe Rock nor army cards will be accepted as proof of age. Thus is it allowable to fight for queen and country at 17 but not to buy a packet of cigarettes. Fire without smoke, no doubt.

Spell check

THE ten correct versions are desiccate, ecstasy, millennium, minuscule, liaison, occurrence, pronunciation, questionnaire, embarrass, irresistible. (Accomodating Brocolli in the Cemetary - which manages to spell "in" and "the" correctly - is published by Profile Books (£9 99).

The Gadfly column is now away for a short spell, too. We return on September 15.