I believe, firmly and wholeheartedly, that society as we know it is destined for failure. Why, you enquire, I assume, as you are likely to do? Read on, good sirs, and all will become abundantly clear.
The following is an article to illustrate my intellectually stimulating point:
"It was announced today, in a report published by government-funded focus group Uncommon, that profanity and vulgarity are rifer in our current climate than they have ever been before. "Citizens of Great Britain, and surrounding provincial areas, have under no circumstances sworn so offensively, so indiscriminately, and with such vigour, as they do now, today," Eustachia Primly told press, "and it's a fucking nightmare."
She claims, "These motherfucking plebs are profaning like goddamn sailors being castrated."
Hazel Blears, Secretary of State for Communities and Local Government, denies the allegations that society under her supervision has sunk to an unprecedented moral low. "Can you believe this bitch?" she asked reporters at the press conference arranged by Miss Primly, "and do you swallow this bullshit?" "What a whore," Blears expostulated, unable to contain her indignation."
As a lowly journalist, I am faced, on a daily basis, with foul language; and it shocks me. Insulted, wounded, infuriated - the adverse effects of limited vocabularies have hurt me, dearly, deeply, over the years. Last week, one cunt, yet, had the nerve - presumptuousness, veracity - to refer to me as "a pompous arsehole." I nearly cried, right there, in the strip club.
If we make but one alteration in lifestyle this year, my friends, my readers, then let it be, namely, to commence a radical endeavour to remould, and resensitivise our lexis; I implore you, my dears, to shut the fuck up with your goddamn shit already.
THIS WEEK DEREK DIMBLEBY: watched the entire first season of Lost, and made conceited, overly critical statements every five seconds to his fucking dog.