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Last updated on August 8th, 2017 at 05:30 pm
The Weekly Standard’s Joseph Epstein vows to kick his swearing habit:
I decided to banish profanity from my conversation because it began to seem indecorous, especially in a man who is a grandfather. A clue that it was time to cease was when I began to part words in the middle with the F-word: as in unf——-believable.
I completely underf——-stand. (Read Joseph’s enf——-tire piece, by the way; very funny.) I’m a moderate swearer by Australian standards, and absurdly mild by Australian journalist standards; you’d be particularly surprised at the conversational sweariness of some ABC presenters. It isn’t unusual for Australians to use the f-word as an “umm” substitute:
“So I went to the … f——- … supermarket, and I bought some … f——- … lightbulbs to replace the … f———… bulbs that blew out on the … f———… porch.”
No particular emphasis is placed; it’s just a pause device while one gathers one’s f——- thoughts. (Please think no ill of my grandmother, supplier of the above quote.) Journalists—especially female journalists—are among our finest swearmongers. The Australian’s Elisabeth Wynhausen recently turned up at News Ltd’s Sydney office wearing a burka; although disguised, everybody knew Elisabeth was the burka model because of all the cursing and ranting coming from inside of it.
(Via auntie kc, a recovering Florida swearstress)
UPDATE. The Age’s Jason Koutsoukis reveals Labor’s meek little Kevin Rudd to be a lively swearboy:
Asked to write a story about who the Liberals might fear the most, I dug up this quote about Rudd from a senior Liberal strategist: “Rudd is the class prat, the sort of guy who would have worn a bow tie to the high school quiz contest,” said my source. “He might know all the answers, but everyone would want to beat him up after school.”
The phone started ringing very early on the day the story appeared and before the receiver even reached my ear I could hear someone shouting at me.
Amid liberal use of the f-word and several colourful references to me being some kind of very smelly, very fat and very stupid walking genital not fit to breathe the same air as human beings, I realised that it was none other than the bow-tied class prat himself.
The problem, it took me some minutes to work out, was the bit about the bow tie.
“I never even knew what a f—-king bow tie was when I was in high school, let alone how to put one on,” Rudd bawled down the phone.
Rudd went all the way through high school without knowing what a bow tie was? Worldly!
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