Swearing .....

 I've been having a little bit of the giggles, this evening. This has been brought about by a simple, yet enduring, memory of long ago.

 Ye see, I'm a self confessed, and totally unrepentant, foul mouthed fucker. Moment I hit secondary school, my vocabulary hit the gutter. I could have sailed through an A Level in Fluent Filth. Fuck it.

 True though. Never heard my Dad swear. Not once in his short life. Ever. But, he was dead before I got to secondary and so, I guess, I lost his restraining influence and my grammar went feral. Anyway .....

 So, aeons ago now, in Portsmouth, I bought a boat. Just an open thing. Big, what we who know fuck all about boats ~ thus can be mug enough to buy one ~ would probably describe as a rowing boat. Only, it would take some fuckin' rowing, size of this thing!

 And that's why my first wife and I were down at this boat club one evening. To see if I could join. And do note; This was a Boat Club. Not a fuckin' 'Yacht Club'. No stupid cunts in captains hats and blue blazers here.

 But, no swearing either. It was eerie. All these solidly working class, Pompey blokes. Donkey jackets, thick jumpers and muddy waders were the norm. And not one cunt amongst them so much as said 'Fuck'. I couldn't hack it.

 So, having promised to consider my application, I backed out into the fresh, creek air. There I told me wife that No Fucking Way was I having anything to do with those bastards. I'd never be able to relax for a second in their company. No one swore!

 Wife, who aside from being young, attractive and rather well educated ~ too fucking good for me. That I'd never even try to deny. Fuck knows what she saw in me. Anyway, she pointed out that ~ dick head! ~ they were simply watching their manners around a strange female. 

 Frankly? She'd might as well have tried to explain to me that a bunch of blokes were barking like Dogs because they'd had frogs legs for dinner. It was just alien to me. I swear in front of babies and grandmothers. Makes no odds to me. 

 But, anyway, she managed to convince me to go ahead and join. Which I did. And that's why I was sat there, in a club house that had very much the air of a Public Bar about it. People were yelling and laughing. Plenty of good banter. When I heard it .....

 Some woman said something. Her husband replied. She turned round and said - for those of you unfamiliar with a good, Portsmouth accent by the way? It's said to be the closest thing to Cockney. But, different. 

 Anyway, she turned on him, like a good natured harridan, and screeched, " I woz tawkin to 'im!!! ".

 Without missing a beat, this guys shouted back; " I know! I can tell that; Coz 'is faakin ears 'r bleedin'!!! "

  Much beer was spat .....