Do you kiss your children with that potty-mouth?

Karen pointed out to me today that I had swore in front of two people I hardly knew at the Mayor's Ball last night.

The person was Widow Twanky who Karen recognised from the Morley Operatic performance of Aladdin last month.

I have to admit that I hadn't recognised her- my reasoning for this was that as she had grown a beard and decided to give up the Dame look to become the butch one in a lesbian relationship she was no longer quite so obvious.

Anyway, Karen suggested I go and check if I didn't believe her so I did and we were still chatting away merrily fourty minutes later when everyone else had gone home apart from the Caterers.

Anyway, our conversations were wide ranging on the theme of entertainment and I did try very hard to get them to buy the Morley Pavilion to turn it back into a live theatre, but unfortunately their society isn't quite that flush. (Indeed they seem to be behind in their account submissions, oh dear...)

Anyway, as well as me trying to sell them the idea of a community theatre, they were trying to sell me the idea of getting involved. I touched on my previous experiences, including my joining a very well known Am-Dram that was so disorganised that I'd moved away by the time they got round to contacting me. It was at that point that I used the term Fuckwitts.

in my defence, I used it as an adjective rather than a noun as part of an amusing story, and I also had the mitigating factor of having had a small tincture earlier in the evening (or as Karen put it- three shits to the wind).

Now I always know when i've had enough to drink- because I fall over, throw up and hit a policeman. (BUM BUM Tish!- copyright Alexei Sayle).

More seriously, I am conscious that I will occasinally profane in this blog. My view of this is that swearing isn't big or clever- unless done with impeccable comic timing. The Web is for consenting adults, however certain words can get blocked by content technology used by businesses and I don't want my reader to not be able to drop in over his lunchtime sandwiches from work because his office websweeper doesn't approve of my content.

To get round this, I will be tempering my language and introducing a dictionary section into the sidebar, similar in concept to the Viz Profanisaurus (but obviously nothing like it at all, for legal reasons).

I'd quite like a witty name for the swearing list that will enable me to retire after I flog off the copyright to Harry Hill and welcome suggestions from the commentariat below.

Go on, you know you want to.



SCUNTHORPE.

Damn, it just slipped out. that'll be me blocked in the U.S. Bible Belt now...