Sweirie Words

Well, since everybody else is talking about them, I thought that I would lob my thoughts in.

It is always difficult to know what is unacceptable in a different culture. If truth be told, it still rankles a wee bit that I got called to task for using ‘keech’ which is, I assure you all yet again, a totally innocuous word in Jockish. Whatever, water under the bridge and JulieT took it in the spirit intended, being a Jockess. Haven’t spotted her yet at the Embran Fringe/Festival, by the way, but I hope that she has/is enjoying it/them.

Recently returned from Oz, I am in awe at their relaxed attitude to absolutely everything, particularly their humour and their ability to poke fun at everybody, including themselves. Sometimes in robust language which I was able to cope with, having had an induction course from Bearsy and Donald. Mrs M was occasionally at sea with the whole thing.

Two examples in Cairns. Sitting in the Best Western Motel with our new close personal friends, Kev and whatever her name was, it was my shout. VB for him and a Mud Slide for her. We were discussing our respective pollies and the name of T Blair Esq came up. I was quite forthright in my opinion and Mrs M looked at me askance. You should have heard what they called Julia. Mrs M got even more askancer.

Two days later, we had come back from Kuranda (google it in case you don’t know it) and were relaxing by the pool when we got into conversation with this Aussie from Sydney. Retired and a volunteer at the Maritime Museum there. Sailed up to Cairns on the replica of the ship of that great Jock, Captain Cook (born south of Hadrian’s Wall but the son of two Scots if you want to check that).

We told him that we had done Kuranda that day. He said ‘Wonderful. Isn’t it a superb experience visiting such an unspoilt non-touristy sort of place? Mrs M did the askance bit again and I said ‘Don’t come the raw prawn with me, mate’. Then I bought him a beer and he bought me one back.

It was a total lovefest until he told me that Mrs M sounded Scottish but that I sounded English. I sulked for the rest of the night.

Moving on to SA, who will probably win the forthcoming Rugby World Cup, in my opinion. I think that I can see where Soutie is coming from. Only done a month there but I will be going back, as I undoubtedly will to Oz. Two great countries.

Durban on a cold winter night. Dinner on a moored ship in the harbour. Mrs M’s cousin is a tobacco fiend so we are the only table sitting outside, huddled under the gas burner. The door from the indoor warm bit opens and about 10 young men come out clutching bottles of beer and lighting up. The ‘F’ word is used a couple of times.

Mrs M’s cousin’s husband glances across at them in a meaningful manner. I tense expecting trouble. They spot us and two of them come across and apologise profusely for swearing in front of ladies. Summed up SA for me. I found all the South Africans that I met unswervingly polite to each other in public places.

So to Caledonia (stern and wild), my own and dear native land. I grew up not using most of the bad sweirie words unless seriously provoked. Then I went on holiday one year. On my return, I found that my ‘friends’ had nominated me for the Committee of our Hearts Supporters Club in my absence. More, and worse, I had been elected.

I turned up at the first Committee Meeting, intending to resign before it happened but the Secretary persuaded me to give it a whirl. I stayed for seven years. I think that I really got hooked when one of the members lost it and used the ‘F’ word seven times in three sentences.

The Chairman banged his gavel on the table and said ‘Less of the f–ing bad language, ye c—. We’ve got a f—ing new member here.