An O An O My Kingdom For An O

I need to warn you up front that this post will contain sexual swear words – both in the form of references to said profanities as well as good old-fashioned writing down of expletives in digital form.

Don’t go getting all high-horsey. The swearing is an integral part of the story. A true story I might add. One that happened earlier today.

With the odd embellishment for effect.

Seriously, this one is going to get ugly. You are one line and a read more tag away from the repeated use of a very bad word.

Still here? In that case as a wise Australian friend of mine used to say about people…“Fuck ’em if they can’t take a joke.”

Just to be clear, we haven’t got to the swearing part yet. Fuck doesn’t count. Fuck is word-bacon. Take any sentence you like, throw in a fuck and it’s instantly better.

Try it.

Fucking try it.

Bet you fucking listened the second time.

Leave the bacon-fuckery now. Practice in your own time. I’m afraid we need to unleash the C-bomb to tell this one.

It was an innocent mistake that started it. There’s something about an innocent mistake that sets my brain off. I can’t leave it alone. It’s like having a scab on your cerebellellawotsit that you can only scratch through a period of comedic thought-rambling.

I got an email earlier today that, like many of my emails, had various references to data. This one included explicit instructions (literally as it turned out) about the kind of data that needed to be analysed for a specific piece of work. On another day it would have been give me the average revenue by client or give me the sum of all calls placed in the last week.

On another day.

Today it simply said Give me the cunt of all subscribers.

My brain went something like this.

Preamble…blah…get to the point…ok…yes critical to business blah blah…subscribers need to count them per region…holy fucking absent spellcheck batman did he just write what I think he…WHAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHA

I tried to move on but the seed was sown. It kept winking at me.

Give me the cunt of all subscribers.

I had a chat with my brain as I often do.

Settle down. We all know he wants a count of subscribers. It’s a perfectly reasonable request. Just leave it alone.

Yeah you’re right. Sorry.

It’s ok brain. I found it funny as well but maybe we should…

Yeah but what if there really is a cunt of all subscribers? Can you imagine what it must be like to be that person? Of all the tens of millions of people who subscribe – a good percentage of whom could be anything from paedophiles to murderers to politicians – this one is the cunt of all of them. The cunt to end all cunts.

Stop it. Can we just…

One cunt to rule them all one cunt to find them…

STOP IT.

OK. You’re right. Sorry.

I should probably respond to this, do you think I should correct the word…

What if there isn’t just one?

What?

What if there isn’t just one? What if there’s a list…like…the FBI’s Most Wanted or something. Surely you can’t just go from nobody to top-cunt overnight? And what would make him or her that little bit more of a cunt than say the nine slightly lesser cunts vying for the throne? Surely that lot deserve a mention somewhere? Some wanted posters around the office maybe?

Please. Will you just drop it. I need to get back to work.

*insert pointless phrase indicating end of internal conversation here*

I think you get the general idea. No need for me to keep banging on about it.

My point is simple. If you are going to write emails, stories, blog posts or letters to your cat you need to be a good citizen and check for unintentional errors.

Simply put: You Are Accuntable.

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