Tag: swearing

#oneaday Day 954: I Love Cock

“Cock” is possibly my favourite word in the entire English language. I don’t care if you’re using it to refer to a rooster or an erect penis (I always felt that “cock” implied “erect”, as does “dong”, “schlong”, “wang” and numerous others; meanwhile “winky”, “dick”, “willy” and “tallywhacker” imply flaccidity, but I digress) — it’s just a fantastically satisfying word to say.

You have to say it right for it to be satisfying though. Try it with me.

Take a deep breath, in through your nose. Now open your mouth a little as if you’re going to cough up a big ol’ flob and pronounce a nice, crisp, hard “C” sound. Immediately follow with a round, fruity “O”, where your mouth makes the perfect shape of the letter it’s pronouncing, leave a short gap, then follow up with the “CK”. Ideally, you should throw back your head slightly while doing the “CO–” bit and give a pervy smile while doing the “–CK” bit. Advanced “COCK”-ers should feel free to add a crescendoing “mm” or “nn” sound beforehand for added amusement. “mmCOCK!” “nnCOCK!”

Lest you feel I’ve lost it here, let me explain my love for this gloriously expressive one-syllable word. It came about back in secondary school. Some friends and I were hanging out, and I, for some reason, happened to pronounce the word “cock” in the manner described above, and everyone fell about laughing. According to my friend Craig, it was hilarious because it, I quote, “sounded like a porn star saying it.” (It sounds even more like a porn star saying it if you also say the word “SUCK” in the same manner as the word “COCK” described above.)

Anyhow, the word “COCK” became our go-to insult or space-filler when there was a lull in the conversation. This use of the word, completely devoid of its usual context, came to a head one summer when my parents had gone on holiday and I was left alone in the house for the first time. My friend Woody and I had recently discovered Final Fantasy VII and, having both finished it possibly several times by this point, were doing a communal playthrough together, fuelled by tequila which we had decided we would attempt to drink despite the fact that both of us felt that it tasted like what a glass of water would taste like if you dropped about fifteen cigarette butts in it. As night fell, we decided that The Thing To Do would be to switch over and play Resident Evil 2 very loud while absolutely munted off our tits. (We also left a metronome ticking outside the room our friend Ed, who had flaked out early, was sleeping in.)

For whatever reason, during our Resident Evil 2 session — and remember we were absolutely twatted by this point — we then decided that The Thing To Do would be to turn to each other and repeatedly say the word “COCK” in the manner described above to each other while attempting to continue normal play. Normal play was already somewhat difficult due to the amount of alcohol we had imbibed coupled with Resident Evil 2’s cumbersome controls, so it largely degenerated into just the shouting of the aforementioned syllable over and over and over again.

I don’t know for how many hours we kept this up, but it was certainly a long time. Probably at least one hour and possibly more. I’m pretty sure that we somehow got most of the way through the game while repeatedly bellowing “COCK” at one another, because I have a vivid memory of collapsing in a drunken, exhausted heap after failing to kill the final boss and waking up the next morning in an awkward position with the PlayStation still running.

So there you go. That’s how much I love cock. I’ll go all night with it.

(Aside: WordPress recommended “wine tasting descriptors” as a tag for this post. I’m not sure I need to make any further comment than that.)

#oneaday Day 80: I Swear, By The Moon And The Stars In The Skies

(If you are offended by swearing you may wish to skip this one. But then that’s kind of the point of this post. So perhaps you should read it.)

Swearing’s a funny thing. On the one hand, a well-timed expletive—particularly a creative compound one, such as “felchbastard”—can make everyone laugh. On the other hand, people who use the word “fucking” as verbal punctuation and/or a non-fluency feature are, well to be frank, complete arseholes.

It’s curious how some swear words are more acceptable than others though, especially given the fact that many of them refer to the same thing. Refer to someone as a “twat” and that’s generally seen as just fine and peachy (unless you’re, say, talking to the Queen or your grandparents (assuming they’re not the kind of grandparents who swear like sailors (possibly because they were sailors) or squaddies (ditto) and now I’m not sure how many nested brackets I’ve used so I’ll just hope) or the local vicar) but call them a “cunt” and you’ll quite possibly be the recipient of a stony silence, a slap in the face or a detention, depending on your age/social status and/or occupation.

But why should this be? “Twat” and “cunt” both refer to the female genitalia, yet some people feel more uncomfortable saying the word “vagina” out loud than “twat”, yet “cunt” is still some sort of horrendous secret taboo. They all mean the same thing.

Oddly enough, no synonyms for the penis (of which there are many, as the back page of my Year 8 homework journal from secondary school will attest) appear to be regarded as anywhere near as taboo as words for the vajayjay. “Cock”, theoretically the most offensive one, as it’s (arguably) the one you’re most likely to hear during pornography, is flung around with gay abandon (not literally) pre-watershed on Top Gear, while “penis” is still seen as somewhat awkward, despite being an anatomical term and not a swear.

“Fuck” and/or “fucking” are the words that gets a lot of people though. “Fuck/fucking” are, in themselves, rather multi-purpose words. They can be used as a verb meaning sexual congress (“He fucked her good and proper”) or as a verb meaning “broke” or “beat up” (“She fucked him up good and proper”) or as an adjective (“Cover that fucking bruise on your face, you big wuss”) or as an intensifier (“That was brilliant.” “No, it was fucking brilliant.”) or just a an expletive (“Fuck!”).

The trouble with “fuck”, though, is that it’s overused. First five minutes of Four Weddings and a Funeral aside, you just have to walk down any inner-city street in the UK to hear the word “fuck(ing)” used so frequently you wonder if the people uttering it are actually aware they’re saying it quite so much. In theory, a lot of their usage of it is as an intensifier—but seriously, saying “I went to the fucking shops” is utterly redundant. Saying something is “fucking brilliant” makes it very clear that it’s better than brilliant. However, saying you went to the “fucking shops” is useless, because the shops are the shops, and however much “fucking” you put in front of them, they cannot be any more shoppy than they already are, in that they are already 100% shoppy, and if making them into the “fucking shops” made them more shoppy than 100% shoppy, then that would defy all laws of physics, metaphysics, logic and possibly a few bits of theology, too. And no-one wants that.

The only exception to this is when you’re annoyed at the place you’ve been. Then you can do that sulky teenage stroppyface and say “Yeah, I went to the fucking shops” as if it’s the biggest hardship in the world that you had to suffer being dragged around New Look a little bit when all you really wanted to do was get home and masturbate/take drugs/yell at a gerbil that just isn’t pulling its weight any more/watch Noel Edmonds (on TV, obviously, unless you live with him, which would be a hellish existence in and of itself more than worthy of using the word “fucking” at every opportunity).

Basically, cockweasel, stop being such a fucking prudish cunt, and enjoy the rich tapestry of bullshit that the English cocking language has blessed us twats with.

#oneaday, Day 51: Litmus Test Your Friendships

Congratulations on your acquisition of one or more friends! To get the most out of your new acquaintances, you may find it necessary to perform one or more simple diagnostic checks to ensure that these people are, in fact, your friends and not just “people you know” whom you see occasionally. Interpersonal compatibility is a complicated issue and there is no guarantee of 100% compatibility between you and any friend(s) you may have acquired recently, particularly if said friend(s) were acquired via a third party.

Some of these tests may not be compatible with your own personal social interaction algorithms, in which case you may feel free to omit them. If you end up omitting all of the below tests, then you may wish to consider upgrading your interpersonal software to the new “Lighten The Fuck Up” edition to ensure normal functioning in society.

Test 1: The Quotation Test

To perform this test, first ensure you are in a social interaction scenario with your new friend(s) and the background volume is set to a level where you may be heard.

As an optional safety measure, you may wish to preface this test with the statement “have you seen [insert name of favourite movie/TV show here]?”

Performing the test is a simple matter of quoting your favourite scene, including impersonations of the actors/actresses if your vocal communication facility is up to the task.

Success criteria include: laughter, quoting another line, finishing the lines with you, rolling on the floor laughing, applause, eternal adulation.

Failure criteria include: blank looks, expressions of confusion, the word “what?”, awkward silences where there should be laughter.

Safety note: overzealous performance of this test may lead to people regarding you as “the quote person” and reconsidering inviting you out to social occasions on the grounds that you’re unable to hold a conversation without Blackadder quotes.

Test 2: The “Name That Tune” Test

A prerequisite for this test is a certain amount of self-confidence and/or alcohol. Assuming these conditions have been met, you may commence the performance of this test by bursting into a song of your choice, the sillier the better.

Success criteria include: joining in with the song, harmonising with the song, adding percussion parts to the song.

Failure criteria include: confused expressions, sudden claims that they have a “thing” to “do”, walking 20 feet behind you in the street.

Safety note: if you are in a social environment where bursting into song is frowned upon, such as a library or the quiet bit of a classical concert, consider performing this test when the environment is more appropriate.

Test 3: The “Compound Swear-Word” Test

In order to perform this test, steer the conversation towards something that really, really pisses you off, preferably a person or agency which gets your goat and makes you want to throw things. When the time comes in the conversation to say exactly what you think of your ex-boyfriend/tax inspector/boss/co-worker/weird guy you see on the bus every day touching himself, refer to them by making up a compound swear word.

For added safety, you may wish to prepare a suitable bank of compound swear words in advance. Examples include: “cockwipe”, “dicksplash”, “creamdick”, “felch-monkey”, “knob-jockey”, “cock-custard”, “fucknut”, “twatbag”, “bellwodge”, “cretinous cum-gullet”, “insatiable scat-licker” or “cuntishly twat-faced bellend-arsepipe”.

Success criteria for this test include: a moment of astonished silence followed by hysterical giggling and requests to repeat the compound swear word in the same irate tone of voice you originally uttered it.

Failure criteria for this test include: awkward, rather than astonished silence, frowns, tutting, slaps around the face either with or without the use of a haddock.

Test 4: The “Say The Funny Word Over And Over Again” Test

Performing this test requires that you have determined what your favourite word is. This may or may not be an obscenity, but it tends to work best with single-syllable rude words such as “cock”.

To perform the test, utter the rude word in an exaggerated voice without explanation. Then repeat it a number of times.

Success criteria for this test include: people joining in with saying the word, laughter, recording of video evidence using mobile phones.

Failure criteria for this test include: invitations to leave, the arrival of psychiatric nurses.

Test 5: The “Failure Recovery” Test

In order to perform this test, think of the worst joke you have ever heard that never makes anyone laugh. It doesn’t need to be offensive, but it sometimes works better if it does.

Utter the joke. Following the inevitable awkward silence, follow up with either the word “Anyway…” or an impersonation of howling wind and tumbleweed.

Success criteria for this test include: laughter at your own self-deprecation, a patronising pat on the head, a complete change of subject.

Failure criteria for this test include: requests to explain the joke in great detail, making it even less funnier than usual.

What next?

If you’ve successfully performed at least one of these tests, it is safe to assume that the people in whose company you are presently are, in fact, friends rather than people you just happen to be at the pub with.

If all tests have failed, it is extremely important that you fake a phone call and/or trip to the toilet but actually run for your life in the hope that you will never see these people ever again. You may also wish to contact technical support and attempt to install some more acceptable social graces into your personality.

Good luck out there!

The Hate List (September 2009)

Hello!

Here’s the official September 2009 edition of Things That Piss Me The Hell Off That I Can’t Do Anything About So Might As Well Ignore Them But Can’t.

Irrational rant and much sarcasm ahead.

In no particular order:

  • People who cough, then gob on the floor.
    If I can cough and then either swallow my own phlegm or spit it into a tissue just to maintain some amount of public decorum, you can too. You’re not a pirate. Or a cowboy. You’re an idiot.
  • Casual lawbreaking.
    “Ah, it doesn’t matter if I speed/park here/drop this litter/break this thing that doesn’t belong to me/steal this thing/let my dog shit there/threaten someone. Everyone else does it.” That’s right. And that’s why driving means you take your life into your own hands, you can never find a parking space (and when you do, it’s blocked by someone who has parked where they shouldn’t), our streets and parks often look more like rubbish dumps, kids whinge that there’s ‘nothing to do’ because it’s all broken or stolen or covered in dogshit, and people are afraid to step up and stop people from doing these things. Everyone hates the idea of a nanny state (myself included) but by doing all these stupid things you just encourage those in charge to put tighter and tighter controls in place in an attempt to stop you behaving like a self-obsessed bellend.
  • Cyclists who don’t understand the Highway Code.
    If you are cycling, you are a road-based vehicle. Granted, a very small one that is mostly person-propelled, but you’re still a vehicle. Don’t swear at me if you come screaming down the pavement and nearly ram into me when there’s a perfectly good road with no people walking down it. Also, red lights mean stop. You massive twat.
  • Car drivers who don’t understand the Highway Code.
    Quick recap: Blue sign with white arrow means “one way”. Red sign with white stripe across middle means “don’t go this way”. Stop muddling the two up.
  • Lorry drivers who overtake on the motorway.
    You have an acceleration of 0-60 in 3 years. The thing you’re trying to overtake also has the same acceleration and there is a difference of 0.01mph between the two of you. Overtaking it will likely take you a very long time and get you into a position where you’re stuck behind another lorry that is going the same speed as the one you just overtook. Why not – here’s a thought – not bother?
  • People who absolutely have to get where they’re going faster than you.
    Subject of the second ever entry on this blog, fact fans. Travelling around London is a sure-fire way to see this. You know the whole point of an escalator is that it’s a moving staircase that you don’t have to walk down, right? So pushing past to get to the bottom two seconds faster than everyone else achieves nothing except annoying the people who are patiently waiting. Also, standing behind someone who has a large suitcase that takes up a large step and tutting isn’t going to make the suitcase magically get small enough for you to get past.
  • Mercedes/BMW/Audi drivers. (Except my Dad, who drives a BMW in the most non-BMW-driver way I’ve ever seen.)
    Those flashing orange lights on the side of your car are not “parking lights”. They do not mean you can park anywhere. Similarly, if you are in a traffic jam, weaving between lanes actually slows everything down rather than allowing you to get anywhere faster. Also, if you come up behind me and flash your headlights when I’m driving at the speed limit in the fast lane, overtaking things in the slow lane, I will slow down just to annoy you.
  • Fat exhaust pipes on shit cars.
    Your car is loud! It sounds like the exhaust is broken! You’d better get that looked at. In the meantime, why not drive like you think you’re in a Mercedes?
  • Using the word “fucking” as punctuation.
    When considering whether it is appropriate to use taboo language in conversation, consider 1) your audience, 2) the context and 3) whether it will help your message to be heard. “Ah went dahn the fahkin’ shops and bought some fahkin’ bread” is an example of the word “fucking” not being used to enhance the sentence in the slightest. “People who do this are fucking idiots” is a good example of using the word “fucking” in one of its primary uses as an intensifier. A “fucking idiot” is more of an idiot than an “idiot”. However, the “fucking shops” are no more or less a shop than the shops. Also, bread.
  • T-shirts with slogans about being drunk.
    Oh! You like to drink! You’re so wacky! “Take me drunk, I’m home!” That’s clever! That’s so clever!
  • T-shirts with slogans about having a large penis.
    If you need to shout about it, it’s probably not worth shouting about.
  • T-shirts with swear words on them.
    I’m not averse to using bad language in a situation where it is appropriate and/or acceptable, but to walk around town where there are often young children and also people who don’t particularly want to see your T-shirt imploring them to “FUCK OFF” present marks you out as being 1) inconsiderate and 2) a massive tool.
  • Men who wear too much aftershave.
    If I can still smell you a minute after you’ve walked past me, that’s too much.
  • Smokers who smoke underneath “No Smoking” signs.
    Ooh, you big rebel. Get you. Now take your stinking cancer-sticks and shove them up your arse where I can’t smell them but you can feel them. Preferably lit.
  • Beauty fascism.
    Eyes age in two ways! (So you must fix them!) Wrinkles appear on your body! (So you must Polyfilla them!) Your teeth are dirty! (So bleach them!) Your skin is pale! (So paint it orange!) Your hair is not quite blonde enough! (So dip it in Domestos until it’s just right!) Your clothes suck! You’re a failure! A FAILURE! WHY DON’T YOU JUST DIE, YOU PATHETIC BAGGY-EYED, PALE-SKINNED FAILY FAILURE FAILINGTON?
  • Confused.com’s advertising. (YouTube)
    Are you really expecting us to believe that people voluntarily sat down in front of a webcam and talked about their experiences buying home and/or car insurance so you could put their gurning Everyman mugs all over our TV screens every five seconds? Because I’ve bought both home insurance and car insurance. Both experiences made me want to kill myself. Maybe I should go on cam and say that. Apparently the emo-looking kid in the purple top (“Phil”) is quite well-known on YouTube. Sell-out.
  • GoCompare’s advertising. (YouTube)
    No-one sits in a coffee shop saying things like “Car insurance, eh? What can you do?” – even floppy-haired douchebags like the ones in the advert. Also, if a singing twat burst in encouraging me to “Go Compare” I’d tell him to “Go Fuck Yourself” and punch him in the neck.
  • Compare the Meerkat. (YouTube)
    Almost funny once. Not funny the five hundredth time. In fact…
  • Insurance advertising.
    Just sod off and stop trying to make one of the most boring things in the world look exciting.
  • McDonalds’ advertising.
    You have a recognisable jingle. Well done. Would it kill you to put it in the same key as the rest of the music in the advert?
  • People who use the word “unfortunately” when they don’t mean it.
    You don’t care that I can’t do that thing I’m trying to do. It’s no skin off your nose. So don’t patronise me by bemoaning my poor fortune.
  • Unnecessary layers of management.
    The most extreme example of this I’ve seen came while I was temping for a loss adjustment company. An insurance company hired a firm of solicitors who hired the loss adjusters who hired some surveyors who hired some building contractors who hired some builders who charged the building contractors who charged the surveyors who charged the loss adjusters who charged the solicitors who hired some cost recovery specialists to recover the costs from the insurance company who hired their own cost recovery specialists to recover the fees from the person whose fault it might have been (but they weren’t sure). Unsurprisingly, the whole case (which was incredibly boring, something to do with a little crack in someone’s living room wall which may or may not have had something to do with a tree outside the window) took several years to resolve, by which time the crack had probably gone all the way up the wall and broken the house.
  • Spar.
    Why is it I can go into Tesco Express, buy lunch, dinner, toilet roll and a few household essentials and spend approximately £10, while I do the same in your rotten little shop and have to spend £20 for inferior products? Also, one of your cashiers needs to buy some deodorant.
  • The X-Factor.
    Simon Cowell was quoted this week (in the Star, admittedly, but I’ll let that pass for the sake of this rant) as saying “The Beatles wouldn’t have won the X-Factor”. Good. That means they actually have a future and won’t ever do a duet with Flo Rida. Speaking of whom…
  • Flo Rida.
    You can rap in triplets. Well done. Now try writing your own songs instead of pinching other peoples’. Which reminds me…
  • Cover versions that aren’t cover versions.
    Sugababes recently covered Right Said Fred’s “I’m Too Sexy”. Badly. Pussycat Dolls recently put out a song which wasn’t “I Will Survive” but inexplicably breaks into it completely incongruously halfway through. Flo Rida… ugh, just make him go away. If you’re going to cover a song, show it some respect and/or creativity.
  • Radio 1.
    There are more than ten songs in the world. Some of them aren’t even done by floppy-haired idiots or women with shiny legs. Please play them.
  • There/Their/They’re.
    You learned this in primary school. I can still remember it, so why can’t you?
  • Your/You’re.
    You also learned this in primary school. I still remember it also.
  • Basic punctuation.
    Capital letter at the start of a sentence. Full stop at the end. No need for kisses. “[Anonymous] is pleased today over it really should be better paid for all the hassle going to enjoy a bottle of wine and a good catch up x” is a sentence that makes fairies cry.
  • Apostrophes.
    Apostrophes denote possession, a missing letter or being pretentious. (People know what a “bus” is now. We don’t really need to call it a “‘bus” any more. Same for the phone. Or the ‘phone.) “Flower’s for wedding’s” (seen on a road outside Fareham) is not correct. “Please do not use mobile phones or personal stereo’s in this area” (seen on South West Trains) is not only incorrect, it is inconsistent. “All reasonable offer’s will be considered” is similarly not correct. “Pete’s last entry sure was full of vitriol” is correct. “Fish ‘n’ Chips” is correct.
  • Facebook games.
    No, I don’t want to join your Mafia or adopt your stupid spastic black sheep that “turned up” on your farm. If it turned up on your farm, you take care of the little bastard.
  • Facebook.
    Facebook is full of noise. It’s like trying to be heard while standing in the middle of a ball pit filled with drunken giggling teenagers at the local Happy Eater while a man shouts “MAFIA WARS! FARMVILLE! AAAAAH!” at the top of his voice. (This has now been allayed somewhat with the launch of Facebook Lite, aka We Wish We Were Twitter.) (Additional note: I still like and use Facebook. But it is getting noisy.)

That’s nearly 2,000 words there. I think that’s probably enough for now! If you have any pet peeves of your own you’d like to share, please do make them known in the comments.

If all that depressed you, let Maru cheer you up: