Why I love saying ‘Fuck’

There are a few things on this earth that give nothing but sheer pleasure. These are different for everyone, but I can think of a good common few:

• the first bite of a sandwich when you’re really starving, and the last crisp in the packet.
• waking up without a hangover…and to your latest SAAS instalment.
• getting the last book on the short loan shelf for your essay.
• finding a fiver in your pocket.

And let’s not forget the simplest of all great pleasures: making it to the toilet when you really need a poo.

But there is something that puts all these miniature pleasures to shame, something proven to be healthy for you, something that makes almost any sentence seem bigger and better than any other literary mechanism in the English language. And that is the perfectly executed swearword. Indeed, there is nothing I find more satisfying than screaming FUCK after I stub my toe, or shouting COCKETY-BOLLOCKS when I realize my essay is earlier than previously thought. The act of swearing possesses a certain beauty all of its own.

Take when you’re walking down the street and the sky suddenly sends the pisses of the world raining down on your uncovered head. A quick BASTARD loud and clear, lets those around you see the mistake you made in forgetting your umbrella (it is Scotland, for fuck’s sake). It doesn’t matter whether it’s whispered, muttered, or shouted; whether it’s fuck or shit or bastard-balls. Swearing just feels good. And it turns out this feeling is not without justification – studies have proven that swearing actually helps one cope with physical pain. Who needs pain killers when you have FUCKING-ARSEOLE-BASTARD-FUCK-FUCK-FUCK and SWASH-BUCKLING-WANK-SOCK whenever you need them?

The good effects of swearing don’t stop here; the words are quirks that add to the flavour of our lives. I truly believe that as a good outfit is perfected by good accessories, so a good joke should be perfected by good swears. The funniest people come with the best-executed swearwords. Perhaps it is coming from Glasgow, where “fuck” is shouted out as gleefully as “hello”, that instills within me a deep seated need for strong words (as well as strong women and drinks). Whatever it is, I would much rather be told “fuckety-bye” than “get lost”. I bond with strangers over the whispered expletives that spill out their mouths as they deal with coffee spills on their jumpers, and the other horrors of everyday life. There are endless benefits to this greatest of pleasures.

Don’t just take my word for it though. Stephen Fry, the pinnacle of all things warm and good in the world, calls swearing one of life’s “good little extras”. He also points out that words that connote some of the biggest atrocities known to human-kind (“hell”, “torture”, “UKIP”) aren’t nearly so badly received as “fuck”, “shit” and “wank”, despite the latters’ ability to describe the most intimate and mundane acts of human life.  For whilst swearing is proven to be a fantastic outlet for the pain of stubbing your toe, it’s also one of those fantastic little nuances that humans have developed over the years, one that can tells us more a lot about ourselves. Isn’t it funny that something that people can take offence to so badly, is something that causes no direct physical pain at all? And still, the weight of a word can carry more meaning, and punch (pardon the pun) than a fist? And lastly – whether this is the English student in me, I don’t know – isn’t it funny how much self-expression can be used by the tone and delivery of one, universal four letter word? What a funny little fucker. What a funny little fucker.

So next time you spill your drink and find yourself hissing a hasty little expletive through your teeth, you should smile as you say it. Hell, shout it loud for everyone to hear. Just make sure that you do so with gusto, and feeling. Tra-la-fucking-la.