“I think it’s clever to swear …”
Good old punk poet John Cooper Clarke. The above quote is from his song, I Don’t Wanna Be Nice and it always makes me grin. On the strength of that line alone, JCC briefly became a hero of mine … some time way back in the last century. I love to swear. And if you’ve ever heard JCC’s Evidently Chickentown, you’ll know this is a guy who’s also seriously lovin’ de curse words.
I’m not sure why I like swearing so much. I suspect the reason isn’t too complicated … the shock value, perhaps? Or maybe it’s that as an adult, I can get away with the sort of language that, as a child, would’ve sent my mother grimly rummaging around in a drawer for a wooden spoon.
When I was working in radio, a Media Studies student came to the station for a week’s work experience. After two days of sitting in the cubicle next to mine, she said I swore more than anyone else she’d ever met in her life. I rather liked this. Eventually, my foul mouth wore down my colleagues and one or two of my better efforts were absorbed into the workplace vernacular, like substituting “arseholed” for “drunk”: I went out on Saturday night and got completely arseholed.
But now I work for myself. I no longer get much opportunity to wow the Great Unwashed with my profanity, so you can imagine how very excited I was indeed to join online knitting community, Ravelry.
Stop smirking.
Ravelry is great. Yes, it is. Not only is it filled with funky fan groups like this and this (enabling Your Correspondent to nurture her inner geek while playing with pointy sticks), you also get to include your very favourite swear word on your profile. You’re invited — nay, encouraged — to do so. Why else would Ravelry’s designers put a blank field next to a label reading, “Fave curse word”?
You can be sure I wasted no time at all in obliging. These Ravellers were my kind of people! I duly typed up my current favourite — fucking mongrel arse-head — and sat back, waiting for all the like-minded cuss-merchants to add me as a friend.
That hasn’t exactly happened. I have just one friend on Ravelry. I think the only reason she added me was because she joined a group I belonged to and automatically clasped every member of it to her bosom. Still, it’s nice to have a “friend”, even if her “Fave curse word” is “pork monkeys” and she’s never contacted me again since and probably never will.
There are times when I wander blithely through Ravelry, hoping I’ll connect with someone — anyone — who’s prepared to bare their all in the “Fave curse word” stakes … but I never have. Most people leave the field blank. Others make weak excuses: they’re trying to give up swearing or they stopped when they had kids (I thought that was when a lot of people took it up in earnest). Then there are the “pork monkeys” brigade; those who use ordinary words (sometimes with exclamation marks) and weakly try to convince us that these are a credible cursing substitute. Here are a few examples I’ve just found: Monkeys! (What’s with the fucking monkeys?) Flangdang; bother; rats; diggity … you get the picture.
It’s a bit disappointing, really. I’m considering starting up a new Ravelry group called “Knitters who think it’s clever to swear”. I want to reach out to them, those special few, those oh-so-lost souls forlornly crying, “Fucking prick!” and “Shithead wanker!” into the void. I will gather them together, offer them sanctuary and then, as one, we’ll brandish our bamboo needles … and really let rip.
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10 comments
One of my other favourite bloggers (http://whatladder.wordpress.com/) talks about ravelry a lot, sounds like a fun place if you’re a knittery-type (I am not).
I am not afraid of swearing though: my eldest (almost 2) has “shit” down pat, in context, and “fuck” might not be far behind, given the amount of crap I’ve almost sprained my ankle on in the past week.
I love swearing too. In fact I was just stomping around my kitchen swearing rather loudly (my boyfriend is late home from work). I’d happily join your group except, um, I can’t fucking knit.
Set it up though, don’t let the bastards piss you off.
I’m proud of you, Lizz. Foul language is a wonderful gift to give any toddler. My sister and I taught our little brother to yell “Arse!” and “Knickers!” and “Fart!” at quiet moments during ballroom dancing competitions, affording everyone many minutes of innocent amusement.
Love that blog, btw. Thanks for the heads up.
Shelley: ha! All that profanity warms the cockles of my stony old heart.
Arse! Knickers! Oh the cruel humour of older siblings…
But you were so CUTE, the way you’d yell things out and then giggle at everyone! More importantly, you got away with it.
I was thinking about you today and hoping you’re all over the jet-lag xxx.
The swearing is a kiwi bird thing - I’ve totally had to tone it down for the UK workplace..until I started working at my present office where my boss thinks he is a gangster rapper despite being a tall, skinny, speccy white man. It is now perfectly acceptable for me to describe clients as cockheads and muthafuckas - hooray!
I’m so glad you mentioned cockheads — I LOVE THAT ONE! I was going to use it in my next post.
Finding a profanity “fit” in the workplace is almost as important as teaching your child to curse with skill and gusto. Well done.
Nukki
It is of course possible to be clever with your profanity - as you can see I attach a snippet from Roger’s Profanisaurus.
Bolton dip test n. A quick check of a lady’s undercarriage to make sure that she is well-oiled and ready for sexual intercourse. ‘Heliotrope could smell Fandango’s musty male aroma as he held her in his muscular Crufts judge’s arms. She could feel his hands explore every inch of her lithe pedigree labrador breeder’s body. Then he reached down for a quick Bolton Dip test.’ (from ‘Pedigree’ by Jilly Cooper).
*speechless*
hahahaha! Jilly Cooper is great fun. So are you, for going to all the trouble of copying that out!
Motherfucken perlers! I too am an afficionado of the curse … and have also contemplated this a little seriously in the past, especially after the radio experience where my esteemed younger female colleagues demonstrated how well-placed use of the C-bomb sits comfortably in Gen Y land. Liberating. And I loved Gina Davis saying, ’suck my dick’ in The Long Kiss Goodnight. And I have Tim Winton to thank for showing me how much better fucken is over fucking most of the time. I’d better stop now. When we get together for that long overdue drink, let’s have a cuss-a-thon!!! Love to youse both.
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