Here’s an interesting one.

I’m not one of those who enjoy swearing; I don’t revel in it or strive to fit a curse between every other word like some. But I do appreciate the extra items in my vocabulary, and I’m not counted in the gathering of people who worry that each time they say “fuck” a fuckfairy will die.

My general philosophy on morality, as most of you will know, is this: that what is wrong is what forseeably does more harm than good (commence debate on the definitions of “harm” and “good”). Given that I use “swear words” (let me presently make known my distaste for the categorisation, which suggests that there is something to differentiate these words from the rest of the language, when in fact the difference is the product of the labelling itself) as I use any other word in the English language and without prejudice, I can’t claim that I gain any especial pleasure from uttering them. I only find them useful, as I do the words “revolting”, “fascinating”, “sad”. To stop using swear words, though difficult at first, would not throw me into a depression. And some people have a problem with swearing. Some people have a problem with hearing other people swearing. And, however unreasonable their request, I can’t deny the fact that for me to stop using these words when such offendable characters are liable to hear or read them would be to do something that forseeably does more good than harm.

Some would suggest that it’s a matter of principle: that I should be free to use whichever words I wish and that those who tut and grimace and leave the room in response are suffering only from their own superstition. This assertion is correct. But I am free to use those words. If I choose not to for the sake of someone else’s contentment, is that anything but commendable on my part? As for the phrase “a matter of principle”, it stinks of fundamentalism to me. “Matters of principle” are entirely contradictory to the philosophy set out at the beginning of this essay. I don’t believe that anything should be based on principle; I suggest that everything should be based on circumstance. (I also realise the slight irony of making such a straightforward assertion.)

It’s hardly a life-changing issue, but, as ever: discuss.

I just found out that one of my past headteachers is in a mental hospital. His young wife died while he was still head of our school, and he went on to have a mental breakdown, though I hadn’t realised how far it has since come. (It’s sad because he was a reasonable man, and friendly, and, for all my issues with the British education system, I quite liked him.) It’s strange to think of someone that you know in a situation like that. It’s strange to think that somebody can steer so far from who they once were, perhaps irreversably. I refuse to acknolwedge that there is such a thing as insanity, but it’s horrid that people can become so obtuse within their own heads that they’re dangerous, or unable to look after themselves, or, worse, unable to be looked after by those of their friends or family who would like to. Having to commit a friend, a father, a brother to that must be heartbreaking.

Some news you hear just makes you want to cry.