Fucking Bastard

"Swearing is a really important part of one's life. It would be impossible to imagine going through life without swearing and without enjoying swearing [...] The sort of twee person who thinks swearing is in any way a sign of a lack of education or a lack of verbal interest is just a fucking lunatic [...] they say 'it's not necessary'. As if that should stop one doing it! It's not necessary to have coloured socks, it's not necessary for this cushion to be here, but is anyone going to write in and say 'I was shocked to see that cushion there, it really wasn't necessary'? 

No, things not being necessary is what makes life interesting - the little extras in life."

Stephen Fry in Stephen Fry: Guilty on BBC4

When did you first learn to swear?

I use swear words with reckless abandon at times (I used to think that phrase was "reckless abaddon" because of a location in Diablo II), at other times I am selective. Often I am very worried about the implications of using certain words, particularly any words relating to sex for fear of breeding an anti-sex atmosphere e.g. if I say someone is a dick for doing something bad, I imply that dicks are bad (which they certainly are not), the same goes for pussy, twat, cock, arsehole, wanker and, of course, fuck.
As a cis male, I am especially concerned about the implication of using the cunt-word (this modified way of saying the c-word amuses me greatly but spits in the face of the concern I have) as well as the many names for lady-bits out there.
Wanker portrays someone who enjoys a bit of the ol' self love as somehow bad. Arsehole and ass suggest that there is something wrong with those potentially fun parts of the body. Slut, slag, whore and hoe (not that I would say hoe anyway) are linked with women who enjoy sex being wrong. Bastard implies that there is something wrong with being a bastard; yet, by some definitions, I myself am a bastard and there's nothing wrong with that. Even less "serious" swear words like bugger are connected to oppressive ideas of sex.
I don't want my language to promote homophobia, misogyny or puritan ideals of sex which leaves me with shit, crap and piss, and even these present problems for people who are into that kind of thing.


All of this is kind of off the point, I want to have a myriad swear words which don't have a nasty history full of negative connotations that could be socially damaging; I want to be able to use strong words that are meaningless but I expect that is impossible. To insult someone or something, or to add emphasis, there needs to be some meaning and history; this brownie isn't just good, it is fucking good; that guy isn't just mean, he's an arsehole. To really insult someone, or say something is great, meaning is important; that guy is a misogynist - now that has meaning and if it's true then it is a great insult (whilst I would be very insulted - or driven to question why - it wouldn't insult everyone) but it requires consideration and analysis that can't be dedicated to every encounter. Maybe this means I should avoid these swear words in negative contexts, or maybe I'm fine to use them provided I bear in mind the problems. I don't really know the answer.


Anyway, I've gone off the point again, my point was a memory of learning a couple of swear words...
I learnt the expression "fucking bastard" in the dining hall of Willow Farm Primary School. A boy told me the phrase, he was various things to me throughout primary school; a best friend, a worst bully, an expert manipulator (in my eyes), the reason I was scared enough to run home from school, the reason I played Final Fantasy VII, the reason I tried to enjoy McDonalds, the reason I am damned to the Hindu equivalent of hell (according to him) and in the end he was a powerful force for making me independent - I chose to spend the last 2 weeks (this was a big thing to me, at that age) of primary school with no friends instead of going back to that friendship group.


He was a false witness. He told my mum I'd called him gay when I'd done no such thing (the group had been calling me gay). My mother asked my what I thought that word meant, and I replied "It's when two men love each other" along with something about how I didn't think there was anything wrong with that (I honestly believed that and thus felt the whole situation was very unfair) and I hadn't said it anyway. That is the first time I remember her telling me that it was totally ok if I was gay and that my family would love me no matter what (or something to that effect).
I have just remembered something my parents would tell me when I was younger, if there were mean people who bullied me then they would not go far in life since people wouldn't give them chances and they wouldn't be happy as grown ups - that was what happened if you were mean to people. Whilst it obviously wasn't entirely true, I still liked to see the world in this somewhat Karmic way. I suppose I still do in some ways.


For many years after we parted, I wished suffering on him, I hated how he'd made me suffer and how he'd compounded my discomfort in social situations. I spent secondary school with his shadow in every social interaction I had, I also spent that time with the firm expectation that he was suffering for his cruelty.
I was a bit shocked when I got to college and he was a healthy functional person who shared some of my maths classes so I spent 2 years stoically avoiding eye-contact and outwardly ignoring his existence. I was resolved that if I saw him unconscious on a trainline, I would leave him there - I genuinely think I would have done.


Back when we were in school, he and his little sister used to come to our house as his parents finished work late so when my mum found out that he'd taught me the expression "fucking bastard", she was not impressed and asked him where he'd learnt it. He said, "It's what my mum calls my dad when they fight". It seemed that this was a regular occurrence and there were even hints of domestic abuse.
For all the years of suffering, for the unknowable psychological damage I may have suffered; he was, in many ways, just a product of his environment, as was I. I had the benefit of a loving, supportive family who rarely fought; I can't be sure how much of this he had, but I know he must have suffered. My worldview has changed in many ways in the 10 years since he was last able to bully me, I would certainly not leave a man who made mistakes as a child to die under a train but I also doubt I could make eye contact with him.