“Language, Dad.” Wendy whacks him in the arm. “You’re making us look a right bunch of wankers.” Natty Blazer Feller is peering at my chicken. “Why can you say wankers, and I can’t say bollocks?” “Bollocks is swearing, wankers ain’t swearing.” “I don’t think that’s right, love,” says the little old lady with the glasses. “If it’s about your underwear bits, it’s swearing.” “What about tits?” asks Johnny, who’s already sitting on the sofa.
