‘Better out than in’: Why I love swearing

Aussies have a certain way of expressing themselves through swear words, and Phil Brown f***ing loves it. Pardon his french.

You know how we say “pardon the French” before we swear?

I’m not sure why we do that because it’s not French and it seems a tad inappropriate considering I don’t think the French swear as much as we do.

Late last year we visited France and had lunch with an old friend from Rockhampton who now lives there.

She is married to a Frenchman, and we dined with them in Paris. My friend was telling the story of how they met at the Olympics in Sydney. She was, she told us, dancing on a bar at the time in a rather celebratory mood.

Swearing is a good release.

“And he told you to get off the f--king table, right?” I offered. She smiled.

“I miss Aussie swearing,” she said. And rather than finding my effing and blinding over lunch offensive she thought it was charming and it reminded her of home.

I’m glad to help wherever I can.

I don’t know, maybe I swear too much? But as I always say, better out than in and I’m only referring to swearing.

I think swearing is a good release and I did recently read that research shows swearing may in fact display a more, rather than less, intelligent use of language. To that I say ken oath and hope you know what I mean.

I certainly didn’t swear as much when I was growing up in Hong Kong but all that changed when we moved back to Australia. I was 13 and dumped at Miami State High School where profanity was rife.

Phil Brown loves a good swear.

My cussing education got a boost when I worked in my teens at my father’s quarry near Nerang. That was hard yakka and the men who worked there were a rough mob and boy could they f--king swear.

Every sentence included an F-bomb. They’d say, “Hey Brownie, pass me that f--king shifting spanner” or “Get in there and tighten that f--king bolt, ya skinny little bastard.”

One day Stan, who drove the big grab that worked the quarry face, opened his lunch box and let fly one of the longest string of expletives I’d ever heard because his wife had given him the same lunch as the day before.

But I’m not involved in any hard yakka nowadays so I’m f--ked if I know why I swear so much. Pardon the French again.