There are
many advantages to living the life bilingual, but possibly the most delicious
one has to do with behaving badly.
Having been
brought up in a nice, respectable family in the nice, respectable wilds of
deepest Surrey, I’m not much of a potty mouth.
I’m no angel, of course. The
occasional “Shit!”, “Fuck!” or "Bugger!" blurts out, but I usually follow-up by looking round to make sure the Mother
Ship isn't listening. As we were growing up, Mum had a zero tolerance policy on swearing, except for "Bugger" which for some reason no-one really understands, she uses frequently and with great gusto and simply doesn't consider it bad language at all, despite repeatedly having the dictionary definition shoved under her nose. I’m still smarting from the memory of having my mouth washed out with a
bar of Lifebuoy soap after sticking two fingers up at her in a fit of pre-teen pique. But to her credit, I
grew up surrounded by books and so entered adulthood armed with a vocabulary
that lets me express EXACTLY what I feel without resorting
to ‘naughty’ words.
But the
truth is, there are times when you want to – no, you NEED to – just let rip and
turn the air blue.
Enter the
joys of speaking Greek.
It’s a
great language for letting rip (if you don’t believe me, just pay a visit to
the nearest Greek tax office).
It's a terrific language for obscenity. The Hellenic dictionary of foul language is filled with words that are meaty and fibrous, they fill your mouth (oo-er Missus!) and the satisfy that need within you to tell that ***** ****** ****** who just cut in front of you just what you of think of him – and if you’re in the UK, there’s a good chance he won’t have the foggiest what you just said.
It’s an earthy, colourful tongue filled
with heartfelt oaths and insults to help you spill your guts and vent your
spleen when you really need to. You can shout out an explosive expletive of “Γαμώ τη
πουτάνα μου!” (Translation, to be said in your most measured BBC received pronunciation: Fuck my prostitute),
“Τι στο σκατα?” (What the shit?), “Αι σιχτίρ!” (Go to hell - I believe dating back the days when Greece was occupied by the Ottomans) and other delicious γαμοσταυρίδια (assorted obscenities) without making anyone bat an
eyelid.
Back in Blighty, though swearing is pretty mainstream these days, many everyday Greek oaths would be frowned on for their extreme lack of Politically
Correctness. Here, they're par for the course - and it’s probably a lot healthier
than the British habit of swallowing our bile and letting it fester inside.
It also
comes virtually guilt-free for an English import like me. I know it's swearing, but having come to the language as an adult and not an impressionable child, it doesn't really feel like I'm being bad.
Since
slotting my oh-so-British self into Greek society more than two decades ago, I've gained the ability to swear graphically without inflicting an iota’s worth
of damage to my ‘good girl’ halo from the land of my birth.
And by
assimilating my bilingual vocabulary of bad language I have created
something of hybrid, which keeps my Greek Other Half entertained. He
still chuckles at the memory of me flying round the house in the early days of
our marriage, desperately trying to create a pretense of tidiness for my
mother-in-law’s surprise visit, and roaring a frustrated “Oh, bloody, fucking γαμώτο!” as a wardrobe door that refused to stay closed
against the pile of scrunched-up clothes stuffed into it.
Greek is
great for releasing such frustrations. I’m so glad to have its panoply of
obscenities at my disposal. I believe I’m a healthier woman for it (or maybe I
just need to be, to deal with some of the practicalities of daily life here?).
But there’s
one word that my Greek will never replace. It’s one only a true Brit (or possibly
an Aussie) can say convincingly. It’s simple, direct, and conveys utter contempt
– especially when delivered in a total dead-pan response.
It is, of
course, “Bollocks”.
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