[ Expletive Deleted
]
As time rolls inexorably onwards
I’ve started to expectorate a swear word or two at a frequency which sometimes
astounds me. I used to keep these invectives very well hidden indeed and
would only drag them out for those special occassions when nothing but
harsh words would do. Although I’m hardly at that low-down stage of using
them as a general purpose adjective (as in “Hey Annette, I’m goin’ down
the f*in’ shop to get some f*in’ milk.”), I have sometimes caught myself
in the act of cursing loudly and violently at a game of Rugby League that
has turned sour or at yet another government minister babbling on incessantly
or, even, at the state of the weather these days.
One of my dearest friends would
say that this is just another facet of my slowly continuing metomorphosis
into a COB (Cranky Old Bastard – copyright Sue) and, I suppose, there is
more than an element of truth in that. However, as in all things Monday
Missive, the truth, and nothing but the truth, lies in my past – and I’m
talking way, way back this time.
Apparently one of my first ever
words was a mild expletive. As mum and dad took me on a train trip somewhere
I perched myself on one of their legs, looked out the window and said,
in time with the rhythm of the wheels clacking on rails, “bugger-bugger,
bugger-bugger, bugger-bugger, bugger-bugger”. I think I got this from my
dad as it was one of his favourite oaths when something went wrong. Either
that or else I was (and still am) possessed by a daemon from hades!
“Erk alors, you f*in’ bastard,
where’s the soap? I want to scrub out that dirty, filthy, most vile mouth!”.
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