Foul Language Gone Wilde

Oscar Wilde, the famous 19th century Irish poet once said: “The expletive is the refuge of the semi-literate”. In other words; swearing is for dumb heads.

Well, all I can say is, if the ‘refuge’ was an actual place, it would be packed to the rafters -- considering the number of foul-mouthed ‘dumb heads’ around these days. And yes, okay, I might be among their number too at times, I admit. (Before anyone starts calling me a hypocrite because they’ve heard me say naughty words). Yes, we 21st century folk say lots of words that would’ve made our grandparents’ hair curl.

As a kid I was aware of most of the swear words but would never dare use them. And, even though my Dad was always careful not to swear around us kids or in public, I still, in fact, heard my first F Bomb from his own lips as he wrestled angrily with some recalcitrant piece of machinery in his shed. He must have thought the tin shed walls were soundproof!

Mum was not a swearer. In fact, the worst thing I ever heard her say was when she called our kelpie “Face Ache” as he persistently tried to herd her around the clothesline. I thought this was hilarious. In her later years, after a severe stroke had sadly stolen much of her capacity to remember words, she adopted the unlikely (for her) “Bugger Awful!” when things displeased her. Coming from my Mum it was priceless!

Then came my own parenting. We were always careful to keep it nice around the kids and I used to warn them thus (and forgive me Oscar!): “Only dumb people swear because they are too stupid to know any better words.”

The kids got it (I guess no-one likes to be labelled as stupid) and pretty much refrained from using bad language -- around me anyway. I told them I didn’t actually care what they said when they were somewhere where no-one could hear them. BUT (and this was my big stipulation) if there was even just ONE person who might be offended -- or little kids -- within earshot, they were not to do it.

I’m not sure how effective this advice actually was but the fact that the kids spent quite a lot of time down the river suggests maybe they had more words to get off their chests than I realised. (If only the gum trees had ears!)

But anyway, a while ago I was with my sons (now young men) when one of them accidentally dropped the F Bomb. Before I’d even raised an eyebrow in protest, he quickly apologised to me. My heart swelled with pride that my child was so respectful, until his brother chimed in that what he had said was nothing compared to what he usually says! Hmph!

More recently, after a local outdoor rock concert, I commented to Number Three Son that I wished the band hadn’t sworn so much as the microphones were carrying the offensive words all over town.

Number Three just rolled his eyes and said, “Will you just get over this swearing thing, Mum? It’s just part of life. You make such a big deal out of it!”

“So you don’t have a problem with it then?” I asked him. “You’re okay with people swearing anytime and any place, are you?” He nodded emphatically.

“Well, okay. How about getting your own (*F Bomb*) breakfast then?” I inquired politely. Number Three nearly fell off his chair!

Funny how something’s okay until your mother does it. I guess it’s all a matter of perspective. (Sorry Oscar, but we 21st Century mums have to work with what we’ve got!)