Taking the faggot debate on a mite … what is it about the British and naughty words?
I swear. Quite a lot sometimes. I’ve worked all my adult life in journalism, and when things get stressed, journalists swear. The same goes for troopers, troupers, navvies, cabbies, doctors, proctors, accountants and bankers.
It’s all a matter of degree and proficiency. And not a little creativity at the top end of the scale.
When things get bottled up, a good cuss lets that tension out; or at least some of it. In the grand scheme of things, it’s only a sound, a noise, and if it does you good … what’s wrong with that?
Of course, like most swearers, I don’t do it in polite company. It’s a matter of British politeness, I suppose. And there’s nothing wrong with that. But we have to guard against the prude brigade doing to swearing what the politically correct brigade has done to other parts of our language. Emasculate it. (Am I allowed to say that?)
There … I’ve got that off my chest without one swear word.
There’s hope yet for this old fu … lminator.
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