The Auntie Doris Years: 1990

image The 1990s was my final decade in the land of the living. I was 76 in 1990. Getting old, body failing and my mind starting to lose interest a bit. The human body is an excellent device for allowing the human soul to express itself in the material world, the land of the living. But it only lasts so long. Towards the end, you get stuck in a failing body, and everything seems a bit too much effort. Still, life is so good, and separated from the other side and The Meld, you are under the illusion that it is all that you have. You definitely want to savour the very last drops.
I know I ruddy well did, particularly when my nephew Michael became a father that spring. I could hardly ruddy believe it. Him and his ruddy girlfriend. Not much more than kiddies themselves. Well, he was pushing thirty, but he’s over fifty now, and still a ruddy kiddie in my book. May Rose, they called her. I asked them not to tell me what it was going to be, and I was delighted to discover that she was a girl when she came. Having the chance to hold her in my arms gave me a real thrill. I could see myself in her, and April May, and my Mother. My Mother, who was born in Victorian days! And this little baby, my grand niece or whatever she was. So obviously full of my mothers stuff, call it DNA, Reincarnation, The Meld, whatever. It was ruddy marvellous to see.
She kept my interest up, otherwise I would hardly have bothered when the Tories kicked Thatcher out of 10 Downing Street that winter. It was a master stroke any road. She had become so much of a power crazed figure of hate that she was a ruddy liability to them. They replaced her with a new Prime Minister, John Major, a man so bland, genteel and well mannered that it was very difficult for anyone to muster up any dislike for him, which stood them in good stead when the elections came a couple of years later.
Like I said though, I wasn’t really bothered for my sake. But I didn’t want little May Rose to be growing up in a country ruled by someone like Thatcher. She was a bad role model for women. I just hope to God that the next woman that becomes the prime minister is a genuine caring person. And say what you like, I honestly don’t believe that there are any of those in the ruddy Tory Party, even though it would be hard to find one as vindictive and self obsessed as Thatcher.
Auntie Doris’s Top Pop Hit of 1990: “Nothing Compares” by Sinead O’Connor. All I can say is, I liked that one. It was a lovely tune and a lovely song. Not bad for a lass with a funny haircut. They had it on the stereogram when I had my first cuddle with May Rose, and it was true. Nothing compared to her.

Auntie Doris’s That’s Swearing #12: The F word, the C Bomb and the B

imageGentle reader, I sincerely hope that you have enjoyed our little excursion into the world of foul language over the past two weeks. I also hope that you are now able to swear with confidence, knowing when to use rude words, what they mean, and when to avoid using them. However, there are some words that should never be used in polite company under any circumstances. I blush to imagine that you know what they are, and I trust that you don’t need me to go writing them out in full for you to be sure. I have some elderly readers and I really don’t want to put any strain on their weakly beating hearts.
Some people think that using these words is big and clever. And surprisingly, it’s not just those ruddy gangster wrappers either. My nephew Michael has been heard to utter them on more than one occasion, and although I have tried to alter his behaviour, my influence can only go so far. To be honest, men are men, and many of them have no more sense than schoolchildren who think that the language of the gutter is something to be proud of. There are always alternatives to these words, so no one, particularly no lady, should ever have to stoop so low as to say one out loud.
The F word, refers to the act of having carnal relations. As everyone knows, this is a special act which should only really take place between two people in a loving, caring relationship. Or maybe at a stretch, two people who have some feelings of each other, even if for one of them this may mean a sense of duty. Sometimes it might occur between two people who are very, very drunk, or maybe just very, very excitable because of their hormones. In my opinion this act should never be used as the basis for a cuss word, and anyone who does use it so ought to have their mouths washed out with carbolic.
Same with the C Bomb. I understand this to be a crude reference to a lady’s front bottom. Her fragrant garden of pleasure, a bit like the Pleasure Gardens at Withernsea. Why anyone would want to use the Pleasure Gardens at Withernsea, or anything like them as a horrible swear word like that is beyond me. If they do then they have obviously never had any pleasure there is all I can say on the matter. Plenty of people used to take a kite to Withernsea in my day, but not all of them managed to get it up. Those that couldn’t manage it were usually foul mouthed so and so’s.
Finally the B. Which apparently means someone who not only doesn’t know who their father is, but who’s mother probably doesn’t know either. There are more people in this position than you might think, and to make a swear word out of it isn’t right in my book.
F.C.B. Apparently it’s a ruddy Spanish football team or something. But in my book it is three words to avoid.
Some alternatives to the F, C and B words:
F: Flipping, Flaming, Chuffing, Blinking, Ruddy, Sodding, Carnal.
C: Front Bottom, Lady Garden, Mary, Lizzie Dripping, Wee Wee, Boreham Wood, Tufnell Park, Ladbroke Grove
B: Beggar, Bugger, So and So, Rascal, Tinker, Sod, Pillock.