Swearing just wasn’t a thing in our house, my Dad never swore at home and Mam only had ‘ya flipping flamer or ya divil’ when having a go at me our my brother. One day is always fresh in my mind re.swearing in the house though. My elder brother very often called me a little punk, I was perhaps about 7 when the incident happened. I was at the bottom of the stairs, Mam was in the kitchen, down the passage with the door open, in my full view, my brother was upstairs. I certainly got the word ‘punk’ wrong when I shouted up the stairs to him, “Where’s my socks ya c*nt?”. Mam’s legs gave way, my brother came to the top of the stairs open mouthed. I think we had to give her gas & air, she was absolutely trembling.

Needless to say I was marched to confession the next Saturday dinner time. Funny how things stick in your head, this one has because swearing just didn’t happen in our house.

Me & the Mrs often comment now that we wouldn’t be able to watch the telly nowadays in both our Mam’s company, we’d be squirming with the way things have gone.