Or they say [swearing is] 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 there 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

After 46 days of a supposedly swear-free Lent it’d be great to write that “cursing is a cancer that is destroying our once great language.  Over the past seven weeks I have regularly witnessed the feeble-minded scrabble for the crutch that is swearing in an attempt to support their woefully limited lexis.”

That, however, is not the case.   I tried hard to rescue something meaningful from the wreckage but when I asked the person who challenged me to quit swearing to explain her reasoning she said, “I just thought it’d be funny.”

These past few weeks have reinforced my belief that swearing is rarely offensive and the level of offence, if any, very much depends on the situation.

It all began with a list of banned words that, while comprehensive, was overly restrictive and did not take into account the varying levels of offensiveness.  I guess what I’m trying to say is that there’s a difference between bloody buggery and fucking cunt (even now that Lent is over I’m thinking that I should probably asterisk that out).

The impact is also altered not only by the words used but by the context in which they were used.  The best way to illustrate this would be to look back over my experiences.

Throughout Lent I “swore” 23 times.  The amount I swore each week decreased over time, apart from a blip in week four that I like to call Lil John.  The numbers look something like this; 10 (week one), 6 (week 2), 2 (week 3), 4 (Lil John), 1 (week 5), 0 (week 6), 0 ( week 7).  I could turn this into a graph if I wanted to, I don’t.

If we remove swear words I muttered under my breath at inanimate objects (usually in the privacy of my own room) and also strike out any curses that were caused by me singing along to songs we arrive at the number seven, let’s take a look.

“Hell knows.” This one was used in conversation in response to a question.  People offended: 0.

“She was alright apart from when she used to grab my cock in public.”  This was true but how many patrons of Wetherspoons were offended? 0.

“At least I’ll be warm in Hell.” Once again no one in Wetherspoons batted an eyelid.

“I do in a half-arsed kind of way.”  It’s true, that is how I promote this blog.  Anyone who can think of a suitable replacement let me know.  People offended: 0.

“‘Fury over Cherwell editors’ infant buggery party’”  Was anyone offended by me reading extracts from The Guardian aloud?  No.

“Originally it was a story to warn girls against putting it about, she gets in bed with the wolf and is eaten.  That’s why she wears red because she’s a ho.”  Was anyone offended by learning?  No.

“aww, why should you care what he thinks anyway? (and why is he fucking people in your loo?)”  Yes, someone was offended but not by my swearing.  She was offended because a guy was having sex with some random girl in her bathroom.

There are few positives to be drawn from this exercise but I will try.  I thought more about what I say, I noticed how much I use the word hell as a stopgap word and with £1 for each curse I have raised £23 for charity.  Using my somewhat rusty GCSE Mathematics skills I calculate that this pushes Gingell’s 10k race sponsorship for Lupus UK up to £216.52.

Gingell & Piggles