A bad language diet

I’m non specifically bad tempered again at the moment. Unreasonably pissed off. You could say, out of sorts. I’m even annoyed that some of my clothes are too big for me now. You’d think I’d be delighted what with me being on a diet and all that, but it just seems like an inconvenience.

I won’t be trying to gain weight for the sake of two pairs of black jeans though.

I don’t swear much when I write, orally I’m positively potty mouthed especially when irritated. Professionally I try and keep it under control and I never swore in the presence of the Duchess. Some might describe my language as atrocious, not just bad. At it’s worst I can barely manage a sentence without an expletive in it. I like swearing, I can’t quite say why. I didn’t curse until I went to art college in Northern Ireland. I don’t know another people for whom swearing is so imbedded in daily language or used with such expressive effect as it is by the Irish. I thank them for my introduction to and full immersion in profanity.

A while after I left Belfast I was attending a posh do at the Reform club in London hosted by an advertising company. As I was handing over my coat as a swap for a glass of champagne I heard ‘aah fuck n fuck n fuck n fuck’ and knew it could be but one person, an acquaintance from college, Gabby. I often wondered if his parents would have christened him after the angel Gabriel, divine messenger from God, if they’d had an inkling that he would develop the filthiest mouth in all of Ireland. I like to think they would have and winked at the priest as they did so.

I learnt my Irish lesson well. I work for a couple of big organisations, my regular days at one place of work are Tuesdays and Thursdays. I love leaving work on Thursday and shouting across the workspace ‘See you next Tuesday’ or more accurately ‘C U Next Tuesday!’ it makes me smile every time.

Following a recent swearing debacle I realise that I really should go on a bad language diet. It’s time to stop this cursing. One morning last week I received a message from a colleague I work closely with, a request for flexibility in the delivery of the days work, could I do the reviews solo? This request was not unreasonable and not too inconvenient, of course I could. I decided to ring her hands free on my way in to put her mind at rest. She was unable to pick up so the call went to voice mail, at which point I was distracted by an erratically driven white van. ‘Fuck You!’ I shouted as the driver veered in my direction. I completely forgot about the call. Yes dear reader, a colleague asked me for a favour so she could care for her sick son and the voicemail reply she received from me was ‘Fuck You!’

She’s cool, we laughed but really….

The Duchess would not countenance using bad language so used inoffensive words as exclamations. She had worked in a confectioners that sold chocolate made by a company called Buddy. ‘Buddy’s nuts and fruit’ was one of her curses. I’m trying to take a leaf out of Mum’s book and start my swearing diet by finding some inoffensive replacements. The words need to feel right in the mouth, but not sound profane; bottle tops, Brandy snaps, flabber…..

Obviously my heart just isn’t in it.

My giving up swearing might be about as successful as me giving up bread, that is, a bit of a non- starter.