bodlin is cunt

shold have a fuckin sundial in there not klok so behind the fuckin times. surprise all peppl work there go in there not get astebestoesis from all them fuckin 14 cent book fished out of duckin stool.

it terible plac. shod have 3 koach go to eston pancreatic britsh libry instid.

-- XStatic Peace (xpeace@hotmail.com), February 18, 2002

Answers

Yes, yes, yes. Blah, blah, blah!
Xstatic: It was quite delightful when you were pushing back the boundaries of acceptability and taboo by using that dreadful 'C' word all the time; but don't you think that the word fuck and its derivatives are terribly overplayed in this day and age? Every fucking schoolkid uses it as every other word, in every fucking sentence they utter. It's not fucking big, and it's not fucking clever. So just lay off the fucking fucks will you, you fucking fuckwit. It's just a fucking waste of fucking band-fucking-width u fucking cunt.

-- Sue Denim (s.denin@aol.newt), February 18, 2002.

My controversial standpoint would be that, in order to achieve complete sexual equality, the stigmata and consequent bias currently attached to slang words for female genitalia need to be neutralised (which can only be done via familiarity engendered through common usage) and the potentially misogynist bent removed. Thus cunt needs to be liberated, which I am duly doing.

-- XStatic Peace (xpeace@hotmail.com), February 18, 2002.

"I use the word cunt because women need to stop using our swear words to describe their genitals"--Gerry Sadowitz

-- Frighftful oik (mike.morris@anthro.ox.ac.uk), February 18, 2002.

well he b jew cunt so make no difference to him dunnit e get the cut ergo cut out.

-- XStatic Peace (xpeace@hotmail.com), February 18, 2002.

"My controversial standpoint would be that, in order to achieve complete sexual equality, the stigmata [... and so on]"

Mr. Peace, this explains all! Your being tedious, stupid and unimaginative is All For Our Own Good. Perhaps you would also like to make plain that It Hurts You More Than It Hurts Us.

Alternatively, you may prefer to take the tack that It Is We Who Should Thank You, or the ever-popular It Is Medicine, So It Should Taste Bad. How about claiming you are merely the Instrument of Progress and that you are Fullfilling Your Inevitable Destiny?

Whatever way you choose to go, I for one will insist on addressing you by your proper title, The Self-Appointed One.

-- Aimless (aimless@national_raffle_association.org), February 18, 2002.

I would say that the last sentences of your second and third paragraphs comprise a pretty accurate summation.

-- XStatic Peace (xpeace@hotmail.com), February 19, 2002.

XStatic:

‘Cunt’, in its non-literal sense, means a vile person or (in your unusual use of it here) thing.

By employing the word frequently – thus engendering familiarity through common usage – you can indeed reduce its shock value. What you cannot do is abolish the equation of the female genitals with vileness. Quite the reverse: you accustom your audience to it.

I’m not sure how you are thus reducing sexism or shrinking the vocabulary of misogyny.

You seem to be arguing that a sexist word ceases to be sexist when it’s so widely used that people stop reflecting on its literal meaning. Others argue that sexist language does most harm when it’s familiar and unconsidered and part of the landscape.

-- Rex (rex@waitrose.com), February 19, 2002.

Or deployed within a self-styled postmodern context. I refer you to last night's episode of Shooting Stars, packed with running gags about "jungle" music and Jordan's large bosoms which would not have been out of place in the Cannon and Ball Laughter Spectacular circa 1978. But because it's Reeves and Mortimer we know it's a facade and crease ourselves anyway, albeit guiltily.

-- XStatic Peace (xpeace@hotmail.com), February 19, 2002.

I remember Bodmin. Twere a nice change frum Ilkley. We 'ad a grrreat time on't charabang wi' six bottles a Newcastle brahn ale an't loose wench on't back seat twixt 42 uv us. Acourse this were all during't war when sex were on ration like, an we was ony allowed a quick grope afore t't drill sergeant pulled us off wi' a shout uv "save that fer Hitler ladddy". I remember thinkin' as 'ow this 'itler bloke was going to be reet poplar when we finly got ter meet 'im, but 'e toook t't cowards way out afore us Fortyninth Royal Yorkshire Terriers gor 'old of 'im. Pity. Any road up, we ended up doin' maneuvers on't Bodmin mooor. Fog were so thick, we 'ad ter blow us survival whistles at each other so's we could get shot at. Eeeee, they was grrreat days. Ony five of us got through t't basic training wi'out a major injry. There was me an Jimmy Puckleworth an Joe Fartwright as ad growd up wi' each other, an a couple a stuck up lads as was brothers frum Scunthorpe an' ad bin ter big schoool. Well we know'd they wunt stand a chance on thir own like, aginst Natzis like, so we toook up wi' um, and by t't end a training we was all t't best a mates. Broke me 'eart when I 'ad ter tell't news ter their mam 'bout ow they buth got blowed up, yer know. Still, we 'ad some grrreat times tugether. Like t't time we was trainin' on't mooor. Ol' Jimmy swore't was a sheep, but I says, 'Nay Jimmy, that's pit pony'. Well, we ended up scrappin' o'er it an' ne'er did find out which of us was right. By 'eck we 'ad some laffs.

-- Mick Andmontmourency (tommy.handley@breadanddripping.com), February 19, 2002.

FUCK
FUCK
FUCK
FUCK
FUCK
FUCK
FUCK
F UCK
FUCK
FUCK
FUCK
FUCK
FUCK
FUCK
FUCK
FUCKFUCK
FUCK
FUCK
FUCK
FUCK
FUCK
FUCK
FUCK
FUC K
FUCK
FUCK
FUCK


-- rwerw (rwerw@pji22.net), July 31, 2002.