Political Correctness Gone Mad
Late last night, on the way to a friend's new house, I found myself a bit lost. Not terribly lost – I knew where I was, but was fucking fairly clueless about where I was going. Standing in the light of some kind of swankyarse abortion of a modern vegan fusion restaurant in Stoke Newington Church Street, I consulted my trusty pocket A to Z. Despite this mild confusion, I was feeling pretty good. And I wasn't even drunk.
A tiny voice interrupted my sensitively lit cartographical studies.
"Trick or treat!"
Somewhat startled, I looked up and found myself staring at a miniature Satan standing in the dark street, complete with trident. It was a bit fucking alarming.
"Oh shit!" I exclaimed.
"Oh shit?" repeated the kid, a well-spoken girl of about seven years old.
Uh oh. Over her shoulder, I could see her mother approaching, merely a few steps out of earshot of the new word I'd inadvertently taught her daughter. No, no, no, my eyes implored the girl, for fuck's sake, shhhh!
"What's 'oh shit'?" she said, again.
There was only one thing for it. I immediately hotfooted to somewhere else, treating her only to a few compliments on her deeply freaky costume, hastily called out from over my shoulder.
At this point in my life, it is unlikely that I will stop swearing. I fucking love swearing, as a matter of fact – it's part of my heritage, my culture, and I think I'm pretty good at it. I'm not one of the greats (do a find-on-this-page search for "roaring purple vagina") but I feel I foul up my language certain amount of flair. So what's to be done about this? How can I avoid accidentally exposing innocent young minds to dirty words like this?
Well, don't fuckin look at me. It's the parents you need to be talking to, if you want my opinion. I mean, what the hell? How can this child not know "shit"? When I was her age I was honing my skills with the likes of Pishflaps, Cuntarse and Felchspoon, for the love of christ - and those were just my friends. "Shit" was a word for the little kids.
I honestly don't know what this country is coming to, when a person can't turn the air blue in the street without risk of making some precious little fucking bubble boy burst into tears, his outraged parents clamping their mitts over his unsullied little virgin ears. Fuck that! Parents, do your goddamn jobs! Clearly these kids aren't getting the education they need in the nation's playgrounds anymore, a sorry indictment of the modern era if ever there was one.
Please, I beseech you. The future depends on you, you sanctimonious fucks! Don’t go cleaning it up. Start your home schooling here.
5 Mewling Pricks
Just click this link and you will see gr8 website - elosu
a) Yeah I know, I probably should, but I hate those fucking verification things.
b) It's a rancid poncehole alright - I dunno what time it was, but the Fresh'n'Wild was still packed full of people buying their organic peas. The good thing is that just 100 yards away, down on the High Street, it starts getting sketchy as hell, and it consoles me that those in the swankier areas might be living in a state of permanent abstract fear as a result. I was only passing through, anyhow.
c) 'Tis true - sometimes I act all Hugs, even when I'm thinking Snotty. Impotent rage is my speciality, anyway. I'm a seether.
But what the fuck huh? 3 weeks? And what am I supposed to do, have a pocket full of sweets and shit in case I get stopped? Bad enough the little fuckers turn up at your house without them shaking you down in the fucking street.
shoulda handed the little shit a parcel of your own...
The last link is broken. Also, three weeks before Halloween? Should be shot.
Thanks.
...Although, I have just had a warning message come up from the College, so I may be in smeg now - thanks.
Oh, also, you know you'll still get those automated comments until you activate word-verification.
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