Why I love dropping the F bomb

GREG Hunt’s sweary rant at a grandmother has nothing on my foul mouth, writes Margaret Wenham. A well-delivered F bomb is an Australian tradition to be proud of.

OUR Health Minister Greg Hunt recently made big headlines.

Not for finally coming out to sternly condemn gay conversion therapy and voice support for state and territory governments working to ban this dangerous quackery. Nor to happily announce an upswing in private health insurance membership numbers thanks to very clever policy adjustments suddenly making it simultaneously heaps cheaper and terrific value for money (because, in fact, the latest quarterly stats released by APRA on May 17 showed another .1 per cent decline).

No, it was for — shock horror — using the f-bomb, allegedly aggressively, in pointed comments aimed at the Mayor of Katherine, Fay Miller, during a December meeting after which Miller wrote twice to Hunt seeking an explanation and apology, and then to the Prime Minister’s Office.

Last week, six months having elapsed, a fed up Miller finally contacted the media about it.

Then and only then did Hunt apologise “publicly and sincerely and absolutely”.

These two issues — using the f-word and delivering timely and appropriate apologies following a blunder — are dear to my heart, though I realise my attitude to the former may not be widely and enthusiastically shared so, at this juncture, I need to make my position crystal clear: I enjoy deploying the f-word. Always have.

As Malcolm Tucker in The Thick of It, Peter Capaldi delivered some of the most florid and operatic swearing ever heard on the screen.

Back in the day, it was a deliberate ploy that was an intrinsic part of being a devoutly nonconformist (and tiresomely know it all) teenager committed to flouting convention of all sorts. There was a great deal of satisfying shock value to be had in the 1970s when that choice four letter word came out of the mouth of a relative babe and a female one at that. It would result in sharp intakes of breath, head shaking and lip pursing by prim and proper adults in the vicinity.

Most manifestations of this almost automatic convention-flouting went the way of my youth, receding as my capacity to empathise with others advanced, but a predilection for the f-word remains. Why? For a start the “f” consonant means it leaves the lips with a pleasing front-teeth-on-bottom-lip smack, allowing for extra initial emphasis if needed.

And, well, having been around since around the early 16th century, it’s just so versatile. It’s perfect, in short form, as an exclamation to express a wide range of emotions — anger, happiness, sadness, frustration and so forth. An element of the divine may be added by prefacing it with a “holy” (as in “Holy f--- I just scratched twenty bucks”). Or the word “me” (to connote surprise) can be added or “yeah” (to signal enthusiasm). Alternatively, still as a single word, the “u” can be drawn out to express wonderment, awe or admiration.

As well, various words — such as wit, head and knuckle — can be appended to it to create the perfect epithet for incompetents and those who aggravate. Among them might be, say, the Member for New England, the ex and just about every other driver on the road.

Minister for Health Greg Hunt should remember that if you’re going to swear, you need to be prepared to issue the odd, and prompt, apology. (Pic: Mick Tsikas/AAP)

Then there’s WTF. In short form it’s useful as it avoids the risk of significant offence because you’re not actually saying the f-word. But in long form it is a particularly rewarding means of expressing disbelief. You might use it, for example, after learning Channel 7 paid Barnaby Joyce $150,000 for the Sunday Night interview.

My personal favourite is FFS, delivered in full. It’s my go-to phrase to convey frustration (as a preface as in “FFS, that was never a high tackle!”) or disapproval (as a postface in “So Greg Hunt only apologised when Fay Miller contacted the media? FFS!)

But, having left my teens behind, even I know there are limits. Like when it occurred to me there was a risk my sons’ first words might not be “mum” and thus I made an effort to tone it down, particularly when driving with the little cherubs lined up in the back, big ears flapping.

And so it is I might pull my “f” punches depending on who I’m talking to and who might be within earshot. That’s not to say I don’t have to be reminded occasionally. My conservative colleague can be of a delicate disposition and I was obliged to apologise to him several months back after I let fly with, admittedly, a bit more than an f-bomb (in my defence it was something to do with Tony Abbott).

So Hunt might like to better consider things like time, place and the sensibilities of those to whom his f-laced comments are directed and also the value of apologising promptly when next his fondness for the f-word gets him in trouble.

The United Nations Ombudsman & Mediation Services website says “an honest and sincere apology has the potential to restore dignity and diminish fear of retaliation or even desire for vengeance on the receiving end. On the giving end it can be a powerful tool to reconcile a working relationship and to initiate the restoration of trust. Accordingly, an apology can show strength of character, demonstrate emotional competence and reaffirm that both parties share values in their relationship they want to commit to.”

Sorry, Greg, but that sounds f---ing spot on to me.

Margaret Wenham is a Courier-Mail columnist.

Originally published as Why I love dropping the F bomb