Blogs
Going Sloley
A blog from the Waterfront's Chris Sloley
Wash Your Mouth Out
- 27 Feb 2007 09:00
With Lent approaching, the religious - well Christian I guess - amongst us will again take it upon themselves to 'better' themselves with the sacrifice of one of vice or virtue. Now I am not religious and I don't intend on this being an open-letter to attack anyone; quite the contrary, I wish anyone who tries it the best of luck. Because it's bloody hard.
One Saturday morning I switched on my laptop, with its delightfully annoying tune it informed me through an email that I had a problem with one of my lecturers. My response? Like any like minded individual I found my nearest housemate and ripped into said lecturer like a particularly mouthy sailor on shore leave - on National Swearing Day - who'd just stubbed his toe on a doorframe.
After wiping the spit of my venomous tirade from her face, she retorted: "you swear too much". Nothing to take notice of but she then induced a clause that was brilliant fun during the second year of Uni - the 'Five Pound Challenge'. Simply put - think of something stupid, challenge the other one to do it and they win a fiver - got it? Good.
Still reeling from failing to sleep in all of our housemates' beds for one hour, with photographic evidence of the act, and no collusion, she bet me five English pounds I couldn't go 48 hours without swearing. Simple rules anything you could say in front of a friend's grandma allowed; anything else is instant defeat. Now that doesn't sound too hard, does it? I mean 11 AM Saturday to 11 AM Monday. Psst. Easy. Um... well, it wasn't.
This particular weekend incorporated the Powergen Cup Semi Finals featuring the Ospreys and a host of others. Now I am no mathematician but:
Drinking + professional sport + housemates = calling a lot of people 'wanker'
Now I did well, I did damn well. Sweaty palms clenched, lips bitten until slightly bloody, fighting the urge to shout something stupid at the massive screen that adorns the wall of the Bryn, missed pass after missed pass. Having resorted to calling someone a 'Fisherman', realising how stunted my vocabulary is without guttural filth, and shouting 'Shi... Sugar' a few times that gave the table in front of me the impression that I was either delightfully effeminate or from the 1950s. Still the lingering promise of five pounds led me on and I lasted two back-to-back rugby matches, even with the chiding and attempted trappings of housemates and I thought: 'yes, I did it'.
Not quite. The rugby took me only as late as six o'clock and it fell. Seven hours in. Over the simplest thing; reaching for a pan out of a cupboard. Now I blame the beer because I wouldn't normally say 'get the fuck out the way' but it was gone, in an instant I had lost. My fiercely competitive nature dampened by one indiscretion and five pounds out of my pocket for defeat. Now I would love to see someone like Lily Allen have to reciprocate these actions because I challenged another housemate who lasted two and a half minutes, and another even less. In fact the next word was something you shouldn't say with a child present. Anyway the point of this rant is simple, if you're mate is trying to give something up be supportive even if you think it's silly, it is hard and the sense of personal reward is massive - so for God's sake don't be a prick about it.
Chris Sloley