I've always been a bit of a cunt-fucking sweary-mouthed bastard
And have been from a very young age.

Let's set the scene - I was in my third year of state-approved infant incarceration (or 'Primary School', to give it it's proper name). I was in the corridor outside our classroom, looking for something in my schoolbag when something fell out and rolled under the benches. Feeling understandably peeved, I let out a loud, "Oh bugger."

Unfortunately for me, my exclamation was heard by the most uptight, god-bothering, snivelling little tattle-tale shit of a kid you could ever have the misfortune to meet. Douglas Creighton. 'Brown-nose' Douglas. The kind of cretin who loves telling the teacher whenever someone's doing something they shouldn't be. The slimy little bastard who grassed me in for putting a live worm in Susanah's schoolbag without her noticing. The kind of fucker who's probably became a traffic policeman, pulling you over for going 3 miles above the speed limit and says, "It's the law" with a big fucking grin on his face like he's enjoying it. A massive twat, in other words.

On hearing my exclamation, Douglas' eyes grew wide, and, looking at me like he'd just walked in on me fucking his disabled grandmother, said, "Owaah! You just swore!"

"What? No I didn't!" I shot back in indignation.

"Yes you did!" said Douglas triumphantly, as though performing a brilliant manouver at chess. "You said 'Bugger' and that's a swearword!"

"No it isn't," I countered. And, like a poker player laying down a royal flush, I said, "Swearwords are words like 'Fuck!' "

If it were possible for an eight year old child to have a heart attack, then Douglas would have done so. He went as white as a KKK rally, and could only point and stutter. He was looking at me like I was Garry Glitter (nemesis to children everywhere). I don't know how long he stood like that, in total shock, but he eventually recovered his senses enough to scream "MISS!!!" at the top of his lungs.

Needless to say, the teacher was soon filled in, and in no time at all I was hauled before the headmaster, who had called in my Mum. She told me later that she had to bite her lip to keep a straight face as the situation was explained. After she had forced down the laughter, she advised the headmaster that she really couldn't see what the problem was - after all, I was merely pointing out what a swearword was, and not actually swearing. However, she agreed to talk to me about it at home.

After school, I made my way cautiously through the front door, vaguely aware I was in big trouble but not entirely sure why. My Mum came to see me with a very serious face, helped me out of my coat, then led me down our long hall. With each step, I felt more and more anxious. How much trouble was I in? Would I get the belt? Would she stop my pocket money? Was I _(gulp) grounded?

She led me into the living room, sat me down on the couch. She then sat opposite, and turned to face me, with a severe look on her face. She leand forward, looked me in the eye, and said...

"I don't want you to ever hang around with that Creighton boy. He's a nasty little telltale."





One of the many reasons my mother is fucking ace





Nice one Mum
(Pavlov's Frog figures no-one really reads sigs anyway, Fri 18 Apr 2008, 2:30, Reply)