Antipo Potty Mouth

All my life I have looked like a nice girl, but my love of bad language is all-consuming. This passion of mine is so great that I am currently deriving plenty of amusement from swearing and cursing like a sailor all day long when I’m at work. Now that I can no longer blog during office hours, I have to entertain myself somehow during those long, dreary hours of making phone calls, 95% of which do not actually reach the intended person.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not all angry and swearing out loud in an aggressive way. I bid each interlocuteur goodbye in a sweet, polite voice at the end of each call, then hang up and whisper to myself in a sing-song voice “And fuck you!”

Or I delete an e-mail and merrily trill “Fuck off to the sin bin, you little bastard!” but sotto voce... And anyway now that I’ve been moved into my own private orifice (as The Lovely Ms. Mac calls it), I can say exactly what I like, knowing nobody can hear me.

Even when I’m walking to and from work, I play a little game to keep my spirits up. I have to cross several roads on my way, and invariably spend time waiting at each zebra crossing, because the drivers in my village do not usually stop for mere pedestrians. Obviously their time is much more precious then mine, so heaven forbid they should have to spare five seconds out of their day to actually come to a complete halt, even though one of my crossings is situated on a very sharply angled exit from a roundabout and in theory they have to slow right down simply to keep all four wheels on the road....

So as each car whizzes dangerously past, I say softly to myself “Bitch... slapper... whore....” for each woman driver, and “Bastard... scum... fucker...” for each male driver, but always in a genteel and dainty voice. For variety I sometimes insert “Sheep-shagger”, “Cunt" or “Scum-sucking toe-jam”. I can’t tell you how much this ludicrous and peurile game lifts my spirits!

On the rare occasion that a driver actually stops for me, I’m so grateful and joyous, that I mouth ‘MERCI!!!’ as exaggeratedly as possible, and literally skip across the road wearing my widest, crazy-lady grin (showing gums). This usually has them sufficiently worried to cast a glance in their rear-view mirror as they drive away.

Well, when trapped in the drudgy monotony - or the monotonous drudgery even - of the daily rat-race, I do feel that one has a moral duty to get one’s kicks in any way one can.