If you work any of these into conversations on the regular, although it saddens me to have to tell you, all signs point to Cunt City: Population: You.
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On principle and paper, the word is all that is to be enjoyed about the world, and as painful as it is to brand all its user base cunts, unfortunately there is sweet shit-all to be done.
The word’s motives have been methodically lead astray by legions of syrupy-toned public schoolboys, who think announcing it to the heavens constitutes banter itself.
Started some years ago, a nationwide campaign to rob the words of its impact has proven triumphant. A word once great, molested into self-parody by the rampant, gloopy pronunciation of the privileged. Could they not have stuck to raillery or badinage?
Lying in bed, cringing pillow-deep, you hear it repetitively desecrated by swarms of courteously rowdy hockey-jocks. It’s exploited into propping up the climaxes of forced, hollow chants ‘weeeeeeeliketodrinkwith…….’. Then the b can be heard, rolling out with a smug, ominous rumble, until the pressure gets too much and it just bbbbbbbbbursts out.
Now soiled, ‘banter’ is used only ironically to subsidise wayward, tumbleweed punchlines. Or it is wheeled out as a sort of communal fallback joke, where everyone starts repeating it, gradually getting louder.
Come one come all, join me on my life’s mission to reclaim it from the mouths of the insufferable.
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â˜› Read Next: A Guide on Using the C Word