At the moment I’m trying to limit myself to ten swear words a day. Which does sound like a lot, but it’s definitely not. I find I can usually use up my day’s quota by simply getting out of bed…where’s my feckin…who put the feckin knife there…why are there feckin chips in my tights…..and we’re nearly half way there and I haven’t even got my glasses on yet….then of course there’s the deciding which words are actually classed as “swear” words. Basic rule of thumb is that if you can say it on radio 4’s Women’s Hour then it’s not really a swear word is it? And if you change the letter “u” to an “e” in the word “fuck” is it acceptable in public places and children’s play areas? Does that count?….And then there’s the dilemma of having only ten swear words in my repertoire so how do you choose when to use them? And nobody wants to waste a golden ticket. So when is the most appropriate time to use the swearing – should you just freestyle in the first hour of the morning and then ration out the evening’s pub one?
If you change the letter “u” to an “e” in the word “fuck” is it acceptable in public places and children’s play areas?
It’s a bit like stopping smoking. The urge to swear inappropriately is enough to bring on a momentary dose of terrets…but like smoking you need to replace it with something else.
Like chewing a biro, punching a small child, stealing cheese…that sort of thing, blasphemy for beer, now there’s a winning campaign…Although it has to be said my favourite people giving up smoking are the ones who down the pub replace the cigarettes for beer…every time they want a fag they simply have a drink….
….”I’m sorry I’m completely smashed and drinking a snakebite with three shots of tequila for every one of your cleansing foaming ales, but I’m trying to stop smoking….yes, I know it is only 10am….and yes, you’re probably right I shouldn’t be driving the bus, but I love my job and somebody has to keep the imaginary kids in fish fingers….I know…but I’m trying to stop smoking….oh that’s alright then, thank you officer”…
…..and there’s no real goal, or ultimate prize for stopping swearing, unlike smoking when “they” say (by they I mean closer magazine, fern britton and general daytime tv programmes) put the money you save into a jar and buy something lovely with it….like a holiday or a chainsaw…..watch that money mount up ….you can’t do that with swear words…you can’t collect them in a jar and let them mount up to one big giant rage of swearing…god knows I’ve tried but they tend to evaporate overnight especially the purple ones. And of course you never realise how much you swear until you try and stop…. Like for example just the other day I thought I’m a bit peckish, I can’t find the tin opener so I’ll go out for something to eat. Which went something like this….Can I have a table please? No…I look round, there’s tables free all round the room…No…it’s a private function….sorry, what?…we’re having a private function….there’s nothing to say it’s a private function and thinking I can see three tables from here….I’ll give you a private function….all over your …..calm, calm….bearing in mind of course I’ve already used up my ten words driving to the restaurant and having…
…an altercation with a cyclist on the way there…well he was wearing the high visibility jacket and who can resist knocking him down and then shouting “sorry mate, didn’t see you there”
….and I’m sure he saw then funny side when he came round….so….back to the issue in hand…the restaurant with tables that I’m not allowed to sit at….will everybody just calm down please…and when in trouble I often think how would the queen mum react, what would the queen mum do? Nothing clearly because she is dead but of course in a compromised situation swearing is always big and clever… I’m an angry girl on a short fuse here …so what’s the alternative?….stage my own dirty protest…write, “I got skittles from this place” in my own excrement over the door way…cover the signage in17 year old’s virgins blood – which is quite hard to find in Leith or by keying my name and mobile number on the side of his car? No, none of those options I retaliated in my own way, by thanking him and leaving quietly….and then waking up at 3 in the morning after spending 6 hours thinking of really good come back…phoning up, shouting “fuck you” down the phone and then slamming it down…..sadly not very inspired but ultimately incredibly satisfying and well, I was into the next day’s quota of swearing…..although maybe I should really start smoking instead…..