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THE Royal Mail is proud of its Optical Character Recognition system, which
dispenses with the need for fallible human beings to read the addresses on
envelopes and parcels.

Within certain limitations, that is. When Feedback recently complained about
the late delivery of packets, the Royal Mail blamed the printed labels on them,
which the OCR apparently couldn’t read. After a considerable amount of
difficulty, we finally got the Royal Mail to explain exactly what kind of label
the system can handle.

Names and address, we were told, should always be on separate lines and the
address must be exactly as it appears in the Royal Mail’s database, not how the
householder might think it should be. The town must be in capital letters, with
all lines aligned to the left, in a sans serif typeface of point size 10 to 15,
no italics, at least two character spaces between the address and edge of the
label and the postcode in the last line. Stamps must be in the top right hand
corner of the envelope.

There should be no punctuation in the address, because the system can be
“confused by commas and full stops”. Country names, like Wales, can confuse it
too. So can words like “near” or “by”.

Phew! And that’s just a printed label. Imagine what the OCR makes of a
handwritten address.

READER Brendan Eagles tells us that customers in Queensland can buy
free-range eggs endorsed by the RSPCA. The egg boxes carry this statement:
“These eggs come from hens that are: Free from hunger and thirst; Free from
pain, injury and disease; Free from fear and distress; Free from discomfort;
Free to express themselves.”

Feedback is now applying for a job as a free-range hen in Queensland.

FOR ONCE, it seems, size really does matter—at least, it does if you’re
a dogwhelk. Like the researchers at the Dove Marine Laboratory at the University
of Newcastle upon Tyne
(This Week, 8 May, p 23), scientists at the Marine
Laboratory in Aberdeen are investigating the effects of the boat antifouling
agent tributyltin on marine ecosystems.

According to them, measuring the length of a dogwhelk’s penis is a good
indication of exposure to the pollutant.

They can measure variations in length as minute as 0.01 millimetres, which
they say is critical to calibrating the effects of pollution. Dogwhelks can
apparently muster an average 2.6 millimetres, compared with their overall shell
height of 25 millimetres.

The Journal of Environmental Monitoring reveals one hitch with this
work: when a frozen whelk thaws out, its penis gets bigger. So researchers have
to take this factor into account when making calculations from frozen whelk
samples.

It all sounds quite fascinating.

THE MENU at the roadside restaurant chain the Little Chef has a bold
statement on the front: “Price Freeze”.

On the back, however, it states in small print: “Prices subject to change
without prior notice.”

WE DO NOT usually pass on messages in this column, but in view of the
auspiciousness of the occasion, we’re going to make an exception.

The Ig Nobel prizes are awarded each year for achievements in science that
“cannot or should not be reproduced”. The organisers of the prize-giving in
Massachusetts in October tell us that the theme for this year’s celebrations is
“heredity”. They are looking for the descendants of famous scientists (such as
Isaac Newton’s great-great-great granddaughter, if such a person exists) to
grace the stage as authority figures during the ceremony.

If any Feedback readers can boast famous scientists among their forebears and
would like to go to the shindig in Massachusetts (at their own expense), please
let us know and we will forward their names. We understand that people who
attend the Ig Nobels usually have a rattling good time.

OUT OF Tom Sargent’s copy of the British Medical Journal fell a
leaflet for HUSH (the Haemolytic Uraemic Syndrome Help group). On the front it
read: “Please read this leaflet if you can answer any of the questions
inside.”

But . . .

FROM hospital, Horst Puschmann writes to tell us that his bed is of the
high-tech sort, where the position of the back can be adjusted by the push of a
button. This requires an electric motor, which is mounted under the bed.

On this motor, he tells us, is the following sticker: “Caution. This actuator
is qualified for automatic washing machines and it is not allowed to open it for
reasons of closeness.”

How worrying. We hope that Puschmann gets better very soon before his bed
starts trying to spin-dry him.

AND here is another case of a manufacturer playing it safe. The instruction
manual for David Bownes’s new Denon hi-fi mini system tells him: “As an aid to
better understanding the operation method, the illustrations used in this manual
may differ from the actual system.”

FINALLY, are computer games making kids more stupid? We doubt it, but games
manufacturers evidently worry that they might be. The instructions for a game
called “The 11th hour” that Steven Danieletto bought advises users: “Never clean
your CD with a blow-torch as it will void the warranty.”