There are more words than even a verbose lifetime could speak. Even English alone provides a resplendent, near endless vault of language, a million glittering gems to construct an incalculable array of speech and writing, soliloquies and monologues, novels, plays and essays of intricate complexity and expanding linguistic creativity. A rich and expressive life can be maintained without resorting to crude vulgarity, which inherently excludes those who would choose to shy away from a mode of communication that disregards the taboos society has in place to protect delicate individuals who suffer a profound distrust of bodily concerns and a squeamishness regarding human sexuality.
So what the fuck is the point of swearing?
Is it having the vocabulary of a retarded sack of shit? Or acting like an arsehole, hellbent on pouring steaming buckets of irradiated verbal spunk over the aforementioned delicate individuals in a malicious attempt to blind them with piss stained vowels and then rub the severed monkey penis of swearing into their filth inflicted wounds? Maybe receiving brain-damage at an early age by seeing a poorly drawn knob on a bathroom wall, just above a phone-number for a whore offering tea-bagging and anal milkshakes and opposite a Biro confession that sawing off a prick does not a cunt make, and actually just leaves messy bollocks?
Because fuck does not mean the same thing as sex or shag or making love or sexual intercourse or mating or doing it or getting a leg over or ‘ow’s yer father or making the beast with two backs or ‘avin’ it off or getting laid or the ol’ in out in out or rumpy pumpy or any of the other million ways to describe shoving a dick into someone. Style contains substance, sound and feel and usage mean as much as a technical definition. Crudity and vulgarity are vital aspects of the English language that aren’t fully expressed by a language criminally bound and neutered by an unfounded, regressive and oppressive taboo.
And they sound fucking great.