I love a good swear word, so I do, ya ***t.
Yup, I’m a big fan of the Glesga vernacular, splattered as it so often is with spectacular swearies. Okay, sometimes the sheer scale of the effing and blinding is right over the top – 19 mentions of the “c” word in one short paragraph is the current leader of the First Bus Effathon held daily on the number 3 fae the Drum tae the People’s Republic of Govan. But Glaswegians have generally got a right good knack for swearing in style, they crack me right up.
Nope, industrial language doesn’t particularly bother these tender ears. And anyway that would be a bit too pot and kettle given my own lifelong contributions to the great Scottish swear box. I can’t say I’m crazy about colourful language in front of the weans, but I realise that marks me down as a hypocrite of the highest effing order. And anyway, I blame the parent. (Aye Dad, I reckon you started using bad language just to upset your parents, but it rubbed off quite nicely on your own three wee angels…)
It’s a bit of a wonder, given its everyday omnipresence, but coarse language can still have the capacity to shock and provoke some bloody brilliant badinage. Listening in to a recent presentation that included the word “twats” made me laugh like a stank, and cheer to the rafters. The fact that the word was delivered in context was funny as f**k in the first place. That it was delivered by a high ranking professional woman made it all the more priceless, and as rare as hen’s teeth.
Hot on the heels of the twats came a “fuckssake” and a “pissed off”, tho those wee sweary snippets tripped off the lips of this wee wrangler of (bad) words. I’ve got to admit tho’, it did feel a wee bit risqué to go for a cheap laugh in a professional setting. And after I’d done my bit to turn the air blue it got me to thinking that bad language in business really is a whole other can of wordy worms. Let’s face it, it’s not the done thing. Or maybe it is behind closed business doors, but up front and personal, it’s definitely deemed not very professional.
I dunno tho’ – that whole professional thing is a real poisoned chalice. Think about it. Who decides what’s professional and what’s not? Where’s the Rule Book for Perfect Professionals? Aye okay, maybe it’s not very good form to turn up for work reekin’ of bevvy and last night’s doner kebab, but there’s a whole pile of high functioning alcoholics out there who have scaled the greasy pole pretty damn well, even under the influence. They’re professional pissheads, in fact.
But of course, it’s important to play the professional game when duty demands. I reckon in business I’m already picking and choosing my moments to let off a stream of expletives. But jeezo, sometimes it’s hard to take Maryhill out of the girl, so I reckon there will still be some fine effing examples of swear word slippage.
Sorry ’bout that, but I’ve given you plenty of warning. And you know what to do if you don’t like it. Aye, shove it right up yer high professional principles.