I Blame Eliza Doolittle...

So women are swearier than men, FFS! What a startling revelation in the Sunday press yesterday. Well, of course we are. We have been primed since birth, to be equal to our male counterparts which means healthy competition. And competition means sometimes we win. Even this dubious trophy.
Apparently our ability to swear like troopers curtails in the over 50s. I can only imagine that the appearance of grandchildren  encourages us to apply the filter which miraculously converts, in my case, the ubiquitous bugger into a little acknowledged Beatrix Potter character called, Buggerlugs.

These days I hear bad language wherever I go. Essentially, I have to tune  it out or I would be going around in a state of perpetual disapproval. "Who are these people who can swear louder and lairier than me?" Frankly, when it comes to swearing, I believe in context and knowing your audience. So I was amused the other day when I happened to be in Selfridges' young Menswear department (looking with increasing desperation for the Ladies' Loos) and saw this jacket.

Reading with my red marking pen in my head, I bridled at the mixture of upper and lowercase letters and the lack of apostrophe in No ones. For a moment, I read it to mean that  people were talking very nicely and not using sweary words at all, when, blow me down, I spotted a double negative.
I was further offended by the £675 price tag.
Shame. Would have sorted Dearest's Christmas present..