At New World Supermarket in Oamaru today, I stood in line behind a man emitting a subtle aroma of beer-marinated nicotine. He was attempting to procure two six packs of beer, but appeared confused by the transactionary nature of the exchange.
Him: This <EXPLETIVE RHYMING WITH ‘MUNT’ APPLIED AS AN ACTIVE VERB DELETED> <EXPLETIVE DELETED>ing government.
Him: I mean, they <EXPLETIVE DELETED> you in the ASS – half of this is <EXPLETIVE DELETED> tax.
Me: Ok then.
I don’t think it’s any secret that I’m a passionate fan of appropriate swearing. However, I was so shocked by this man’s language I dropped a packet of frozen peas.
After he had shambled off to process his beer before dinner:-
Me (to checkout assistant): Oh my god!
Checkout assistant: He wasn’t very happy.
Me: You think? He used words I didn’t know existed. Or maybe I’ve just had a sheltered upbringing-
Checkout assistant, with indulgent chuckle: Ooh, I think you have, dearie.
Me: ARE YOU <EXPLETIVE DELETED> SHITTING ME?!