Culture – John Vincent

Swearing in English Culture

I do suppose that it’s my country upbringing, but that’s not entirely so. There was a set of opposing tensions that spread through society in the 1960s as much as they did in the 1660s.

On the one side there’s the authenticity of the country born and bread son or daughter of the soil in honest toil. That image of the rural artisan, painted by a famous artist, struggling with the elements to put bread on the table wasn’t as clean and tidy as the artist depicted.

On the other hand, was a spirit of bettering oneself. Elevation from the base worker day reality, up to one’s knees in muck, and practicalities of country life. Middle class, educated entrepreneurial, energies directed at improvement and modernisation.

An indicator of the side of the line that was most natural for a person was the use of langauage. Another might be the seriousness with which a Sunday church sermon was listened to. Another could be the frequency of evenings spent propping up the bar in the village pub.

Here my focus is on language. I’m of a generation who was told off for swearing. Whether at home, school or most social situations. This idea of self-improvement and good manners was handed down. It didn’t just spring from our parents’ ambitions. There was pressure to behave.

To suggest that colourful swearing didn’t happen was far from the truth. Even the highest minded tended to shift their disposition depended on the situation. Afterall, if I have had a calf stood on my toe or lost a wellington boot in deep cold mud it’s unlikely that my exclamation would have been – oh dear! that was jolly inconvenient.

Swear words are a constant. What continues to change is the meaning and level of offense that each one has attached. Casual obscenities that were thrown about like confetti may now be totally out of bounds. Calling someone a “bastard” in past times might almost have been considered a term of endearment.

Campaigners rail against suppressing free speech. Regulating what can be said. Rightly so, in most cases. That said, it’s rare that common place langauage is what such campaigners wish to protect. Even the traditional mundane ones are converted into softer tones to avoid offence.

If I think back to my childhood and market days in towns like Sturminster Newton in Dorset, then a great deal of English culture has been lost. Some may say thank God for progress. For me, the rural landscape isn’t as colourful or characterful as it once was, but what do I know?

Don’t read me wrong. I’m not calling for expletives and offensive words to spill out of every page or be heard up and down the high street. Social media is full of grossly offensive nastiness.

That’s part of my point. Authentic swearing doesn’t have to be used as a weapon. Yes, swearing in the 17th century was often used that way. Today, it’s better used as emphasis, exaggeration or an expression of despair. Like a valve on the lid of a pressure cooker, the occasional use of a rude word is a manner of relief. I’m sure Shakespeare would approve. Even he was censored.

As an expression of despair, we do need everyday tools to hand. If that’s the lively use of traditional langauage then so be it. For those who are offended please look at the bigger picture.

Age Restrictions

Inevitably whenever there’s a decision as to what is age-appropriate one’s own experience comes to the fore. The experiment that is going on in Australia is one to watch. That country has taken a step towards the regulation of social media that provides defined limits. From zero to age 16 there’s to be a ban, or a restriction as the more diplomatic commentators say. One discussion could be about the whole necessity, and possible effectiveness of a ban on social media and another about the age limit that has been set.

This is one of those debates where there are good cases to be made on both sides. I could start by citing examples of harm caused, in particular cases, of social media use by children. That would reinforce a compelling argument for restrictions by law.

Alternatively, looking at the subject in the round, I could wonder at the position of young people first encountering an avalanche of social media on the day of their 16^th birthday. Or the creativeness of young people in finding ways to evade a punitive law.

For me, my 16^th birthday was a day of great liberation. Growing up in the countryside has lots of advantages. The downside is the effort needed to get anywhere beyond walking distance. No buses. No trains. Just a pushbike. Miles of country lanes, green fields and distant villages.

No demanding, distracting all-encompassing digital paraphernalia. Maybe a radio, cassette recorder and a pile of vinyl records. For me a couple of beaten-up cars and motorcycles too. As per the famous four Yorkshiremen sketch: try telling that to the kids of today.

Yes, my 16th birthday was a day of great liberation. That because of the law. I wasn’t alone. It was there for every schoolboy who could afford one. Shiny in the showrooms. Names like: Fantic, Gilera, Garelli, Yamaha, Suzuki and Puch, were all on our list of wants.

In December 1971, the British Government create legislation that restricted 16-year-olds to 50cc mopeds (motorcycles with pedal assistance). This was a worthy effort to improve road safety and reduce the carnage of motorcycle accidents. What was unexpected was the frenzy of innovation that this well-meaning law triggered. Motorcycle manufacturers set to their drawing boards and radically transformed the moped. I do mean radically.

I came in at the end of this era. By early 1976 manufactures had squeezed every drop of performance that was possible out of a mere 50cc engine. Designs had gone from uncomfortable, sluggish commuter bikes that would feel embarrassed to own, to sporty fast racing machines that were extremely desirable.

Ah, the unintended consequences of worthy legislation. For me this was wonderful. It opened a whole new vista and introduced me to one or two roadside hedges. Waiting for me on my 16th birthday was one of the best. A Puch Grand Prix Special. In black and gold, this really was a fast and refined two-stroke machine. Even with cast alloy wheels and a front disk brake, which was whizzy for the time. Racing along the main A30 the bikes gearing was such that I went fastest downhill, while my mates Garelli overtook me going up the hills.

What can I say? When it comes to age-appropriate the results may not be what is intended.

Note: Reference: Funky Mopeds! The 1970s sports moped phenomenon. Richard Skelton. Veloce Publishing. ISBN 13 978-1-84584-078-5 www.veloce.co.uk

UK’s Digital Dependency

Under the title of “Culture” The Guardian newspaper offered an article that caught my eye this weekend. The author, Tim Wu was offering a point of view about the economic landscape that we inhabit in Britain. The theme was the drift that has taken place whereby we find that a huge dependency has grown-up over the last couple of decades. That is the unassailable dominance of a small number of US companies throughout the whole of our country.

What am I using to write this remark? It’s a computer program called “Word” sold to me by a multinational company called “Microsoft.” What’s strange is that this way of expressing my relationship with Microsoft isn’t commonplace. There’s a tendance to treat software, like Word as if it has always been with us and always will be. Like the public roads I drive my car on. Completely taken for granted. That is until a problem arises.

This Saturday article wasn’t about computer software per-se. Although the world of computing is riddled with intellectual property rights there remains a kind of openness to new ways of doing business. Digital ones and noughts are like the text on this page. They can be rearranged in all manner of diverse ways. The combinations and permutations are almost infinite.

Tim Wu argues that we should look to the way transport systems developed as an analogy to the electronic communications infrastructure we use.

Roads developed in the era of the horse. More than 200-years ago, before the time of the railroad. In fact, they go back a lot longer than a few hundred years ago. The Romans were particularly good road builders. However, that was a state enterprise aimed at getting armies around a sprawling empire.

The condition of roads in Britain took a leap forward when commercial enterprise found a way of getting an income from the primary land transport system of the day. Road tolls were a way of building and maintaining a network of highways. This network was physical. Fixed in place.

Digital infrastructure is more than cables, wireless systems, and databanks. Without the human interface all that extensive structure is unusable. That’s were a small number of US companies dominate the marketplace. This complete extra territorial dominance is, like my comment about Word above, taken for granted.

Tim Wu’s analogy doesn’t cut the mustard. It does illuminate an inconvenient truth. The reason the big US companies are driving the future of communication and technology is because they have captured a massive global income stream. However, much of that position depends on the laws that prevail in each nation. That prevail at a time when globalisation was seen as almost unquestionable. Now, the question arises has national sovereignty been sacrificed on the alter of progress? If so, what next?

There’s often been a hard kick-back against anticompetitive behaviour. Monopolies are not considered the best way to serve the public interest. Nevertheless, throughout history they have been pivotal in our story. Like it or not, that’s how the elegant country houses and castles of Britain were paid for and furnished. The same experience can be witnessed at the Newport Mansions[1] in the US.

How do we democratise rapidly advancing technology? There’s a mighty big question.

[1] https://www.newportmansions.org/

Why Embrace False Utopias?

Why do clever people often become dayglo prats? Not stupid by any means. More foolish and not embarrassed by their recklessness. It’s one thing to be incompetent or ineffectual but that’s not what I’m getting at here. It’s smart people who get carried away with delusional dreams.

How many vocal futurologists have said – “work is dead”? That one day we will be living in an age of leisure and ease because sophisticated machines will have taken all the drudgery out of existence. Intelligent machines doing all the things we once considered to be work.

In essence it’s a utopian vision that stands-up to be knocked down. In fact, the subject matter has been chewed over in science fiction ever since science has played a big part in our lives. Such popular fiction takes us from a dream world to a hideous dystopia that the original dreamers hadn’t envisioned.

The year is 2274. Almost 250-years ahead of where we are. Humanity is living in a bubble. That bit doesn’t change. Most people are unaware of how their society functions. Again, that bit doesn’t change. Rituals and customs dictate the path individuals take in life. Like today.

Strangely, even in the year 1775[1] those three aspects of life were evident. Maybe they are perpetual. However, there’s an exceptional point to make. That’s our rebellious nature.

The year is 2274. The movie is Logan’s Run[2], made at a time when society had ripple of anxiety about the so called “silicon revolution.[3]” That’s 1976. Before the elevated level of interconnection and communication that the INTERNET has afforded us.

It’s a sobering science fiction movie with a somewhat optimistic ending. Looking dated. I can get past the images and props that epitomised the seventies vibe. That’s become vintage.

To me, aspects of the theme of the story come from H. G. Wells. Nothing wrong with taking great ideas and reshaping them for the time. In the end the flawed utopia is defeated by our rebellious nature. Or at least of some people. The seeking of truth, at all costs, and to look behind the mask that everyday life paints.

You may ask – what the hell am I getting at? It’s a reaction to the recent headline[4]:

Musk says that in 20 years, work will be optional, and money will be irrelevant thanks to AI.

I like growing vegetables. Gardening is a superb way of doing something practical, staying grounded and in touch with nature. It’s good for one’s mental health too. However, the notion that work will be optional is far-fetched. The idea that money will disappear in a couple of decades is nuts. That’s not going to happen.

I know that the motivation to say such things maybe merely to provoke. That has its function. Nothing like stimulating a debate about the future. Surely, we are in for some dramatic changes in my later years on the planet. Surely, we need to equip the next generation to deal with these changes. Surely, we need to protect the public interest in turbulent times.

“Prat” is an often-applied British term. There are a lot worse terms than that one.

[1] https://www.clarkstown.gov/weekly-column/the-revolutionary-year-of-1775/

[2] https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0074812/

[3] Intel’s 4004, released in 1971, packed the core of a central processing unit (CPU) onto a single chip for the first time.

[4] https://fortune.com/2025/11/20/elon-musk-tesla-ai-work-optional-money-irrelevant/

Navigating Aviation

Each profession has a way of speaking. This is not usual. Just try reading a long-winded contact on any subject. There are lots of references to a “third party” and more than one. Copious uses of the word “herein”. A good sprinkling of “hereby” and “foregoing”.

I don’t speak those words. If I used them in everyday conversation, I’d get locked-up. Nevertheless, these English words are universally applied to common legal documentation. The hundreds of End User License Agreement (EULA) that we all sign up to, whether we know it or not, apply legalese language liberally [love the alliteration].

Aeronautical people are no different. I could have said aviation people or professional flying people. There’s the rub. Even to say the same thing, there are a myriad ways of saying it.

One major problem that we all encounter, now and then, is having to work with a community that uses language in a different way from ourselves. I’m not talking about language as per dictionary definitions of words and standard English grammar. For good or ill, English opens the door to a numerous of ways of saying basically the same thing.

Professional English users, as I have alluded to above, choose their own pathway through the possibilities. English is not alone in facilitating this variability of expression.

I once worked in Bristol. A Filton. A large aircraft factory with an immense heritage. That included the Concorde project. Here both British and French engineers had to work closely together on a huge joint venture. It succeeded. Supersonic flight was commercialised.

One of the delightful little books I picked up from that time was a handy English/French dictionary of aeronautical terms. Those in common usage at an aircraft factory of the 1970s. To communicate effectively it was recognised that technical words needed to be explained.

What I’m noting now is this reality hasn’t gone away. For all the imaginative language Apps that might grace my mobile phone, there’s still a need to explain. This gets even more important when it’s a specific aviation community that is being discussed.

How do people from other communities get what regulatory people are saying when it’s perfectly obvious to them what they are saying? Take a banker or financier that wants to invest in electric aviation because they believe the future points that way. They come across bundles of jargon and precise terms that are not found in everyday conversations. Not to say that the world of money doesn’t have its own langauage.

In aviation there’s not only particular words with detailed meanings but a raft of acronyms. Combinations of words that are easily expressed as a package of letters. Then the short, sweet acronym surpasses the original text.

SMS, POA, DOA, ODA, OEM, TSO, TC, ICA, CofA, SUP, FDM, FAR, CS, NPRM, NPA, AC, AMJ, ACJ, GM and I can go on and on.

Maybe we need a Sub Part – better understanding.

Public Broadcasting Value

It seems to be the season to have a downer on the BBC. As the gloomy light of winter gathers all around. The trees are shedding their leaves and that hunkering down mentality is invading my thoughts. Lawns no longer need mowing. Soden with moss and leaf fall.

I understand the dislike that partisan commercial broadcasters have for publicly funded broadcasters. The question of a “level playing field” and “bias” is always likely to come up.

Making a living from commercial advertising is highly competitive. Demands never stop. Seeking income from a marketplace that rises and falls with fashion and fad. That’s hard. Admittedly, there’s the compensating factor of wealthy benefactors or owners, prepared to make a loss, pumping funds into like minded companies. Shifting sands of political influence.

So, looking across the aisle at a major broadcaster that gets funds from the public, as a matter of law, must seem rather disconcerting. Certainly, it’s the sort of issue the wealthy benefactors or owners of media are going to kick at. Some to the extent of wanting to destroy chartered institutions with an ethos unlike their own.

What is a “level playing field” in the British media landscape? Can there ever be such a thing? That’s not an easy question to address. Shifting sands of public likes and dislikes shape the playing field (sorry about the metaphor overload). What might have been considered as independent, objective and neutral in the 1990s is way different from that now, 30-years on.

The British media landscape is not static, nor should it be so. In the period of three decades digital communication has advances at lightning speed. The sheer diversity of channels of communication has multiplied (even if they do repeat the same messages).

One sign of a healthy debate is the self-flagellation that the BBC often undergoes. As an institution, doesn’t it like to agonise about itself. With good reason considering some of the grave errors it’s made in the past. Supporting presenters whose behaviours have been found to be appallingly bad, and even criminal.

Let’s not tar everyone with the same brush. To be able to make mistakes and then correct them, with a good degree of learning in-between, is a strength. Some partisan commercial broadcasters seem unable to do this with any conviction. They just move on.

A publicly accountable broadcaster has no choice but to stand in the dock and take a reprimand, when appropriate. That’s no reason to shut it down. It’s a reason to make sure lessons are learned and not forgotten.

Doing a simple intuitive cost-benefit analysis. Taking the BBC as an example. What it offers, when it works well, far outweighs the costs. Listing three points, these have significant value: unifying impact of having a trusted national broadcaster, quality, broad base and originality of its output and editorial independence (not selling products or ideology).

Overseas critics may get upset, now and then, but that’s for them to get over. There’s no way such critics should shape the future of the broadcast media in Britain. That would be untenable.

Reinventing Debate

Once upon a time. A wise sage of great age, a not so bright mean-minded troll, a flighty light-headed dreamer and a jobsworth cog in a lumbering bureaucratic machine all met round a table. Bright lights shone on them so they could not see the masses assembled in ranks who had come to gawk at them in their deliberations.

What a strange tale can be told of their troublesome quarrels. To keep the peace, rarely with success, a queen of spades presided over their preordained disorder. Weekly viewers were invited to take a winding decent down the rabbit hole. Rarely was that rabbit hole decked with anything other than predicable hewn earth.

That’s how I think of the BBC’s Question Time in 2025.

Once upon a time. A programme of thoughtful debate, conducted by articulate men and women who wrestled over current affairs, each with a slice of insight however different their perspectives. Painting contrasting visions of the rights and wrongs of the day. Getting to the heart of the matter as their chairperson questioned and tested their opinions. Or so I thought.

Whereas I’d only hide behind the sofa when the Cybermen stomped around on Dr Who, now I desperately search for the TV remote control whenever Question Time is announced.

It’s not that I don’t enjoy debate. Far from it. It’s a wonderful thing to witness, if it’s done well. Honest debate is much needed given the complexities of our world’s trouble. The idea that everyday people question those who make a career of espousing their opinions is undoubtably a sound one. A little slice of accountability is a powerful medicine.

Sadly, a programme format, that was created for black and white TV, lingers on like the ghost of a smartly dressed long-gone presenter. The audience is treated as if they were merely brought in the shout and howl like citizens of Rome, as the lions’ devoir some poor sap. Playing the crowd both at home and in the theatre, the chosen names of the day become as predictable as cabbage butterflies seeking cabbages.

My fantasy would be to have a real-time on-line forum. A virtual and physical place where answers to questions and rational opinions could be sought. No lack of drama but where the focus was on discovery and inquiry. Another dimension that takes account of the new media landscape. That is, providing a civilised and respectful space where, by the end of the show advancing new ideas or changing minds becomes possible.

If regular topical debate just means reinforcing polarisation the rabbit hole will get deeper. Much deeper. All sense of common sense will be lost. A routine of gainsaying each other will thunder on as a pointless parade. Like an ever-darker version of The Prisoner. I’ll switch off.

#BBC

To the Moon

Daily writing prompt

How much would you pay to go to the moon?

View all responses

About £10. If it was good enough for the Apollo astronauts, it’s good enough for me.

“Fly me to the moon. Let me play among the stars”. Just imagine what that song, ringing out in the empty space between Earth and its satellite, would feel like.

Recorded in 1964 it was timed so well. The “We Choose to Go to the Moon” speech happened in 1962. The song is older than that, but I wonder if that was a reason for Frank Sinatra[1] taking it up? If this song doesn’t put a smile on your face – what will on Earth.

[1] https://youtu.be/Y2rDb4Ur2dw

Global Ambitions to National Introspection

When did it start? At least in recent times. When did we start looking inward rather than outward? That introverted xenophobia that’s infected about a third of the country. If the polls are to be believed (and that’s a leap).

It’s strange, isn’t it? Britain, a country that spanned the globe with its trading accomplishments went from imagining a transformed world to sitting in front of an iPad complaining about either putting up Union flags on lampposts to taking them down. Painting roundabouts with red crosses or decrying the idiocy of it. Dressing up as crusader knights and thundering on about some lost imaginary England.

Pictures tell a story. Being in the aviation business, a global business, one picture that sticks in my mind involves a handkerchief and a British Prime Minister (PM). It seems a long time ago, now. Nearly 30-years ago. Back in 1997 British Airways (BA) took to celebrating their global coverage by getting international artists to produce new artworks for their aircraft fleet[1]. This was not to the liking of a former PM at the time.

For me this slippery slope was particularly evident. Living in the Surrey town of Reigate. An affluent former Conservative Party supporter, James Goldsmith set-up a new political party dedicated to one issue. The name gives it away. The Referendum Party took to the stage in 1994. Initially, seen as a joke and merely a plaything of a wealthy man, it captured the Member of Parliament for my town. For all the good it did (not), for a couple of weeks in 1997, George Gardiner, the MP for Reigate, joined the new party.

So, the British political mood in 1997 was evident, or so it may have been thought. Nothing of the sort. Of course that was the year of Tony Blair’s Labour landslide victory.

It’s possible to trace a lot of strangeness back to Margaret Thatcher. Although initially internationalist in outlook, she broke a domestic consensus and crushed a lot of hopes. Yes, the country needed radical change. It was the brutality of that change that people reacted against.

In 2001, BA succumbed and returned the Union flag to its tailplanes. Lots of poor excuses were made as to the reason for reverting. A Boeing 747 model and the handkerchief bit back.

Can I construct a thread of events from that moment to the European referendum in 2016? Certainly, there are connections as the country shook off the Blair and Brown years and plunged into a messy 14-years of incoherence. The financial crisis of 2008 didn’t help in the slide to introspection. A government that bailed out the bankers whilst making the population pay did nothing to earn a moral reputation. It further encouraged a growth of a blame culture.

So, if you supported the Referendum Party, the UKIP Party and the Brexit Party that followed, and now the Reform Party surely, it’s possible to see that you are barking up the wrong tree. It’s an empty cul-de-sac. It’s a fruitless orchard. It’s a road to decline.

These are not the heirs to Margaret Thatcher. They are bandwagon hopping con men. Money men who like their pockets lined. They will not help those who have missed out on their share of the country’s prosperity – past, present or future.

[1] https://www.flickr.com/photos/linda_chen/albums/72157625997434719/

Music to Dance Under the Moon

Flicking through the vinyl albums that no one wants there’s one I should have rescued this week. In a corner, charity shops usually have a pile of gifted vinyl records. I like to look for a hidden gem. Unfortunately, what’s left is the tatty and practically valueless disks. Versions of musicals that have fallen out of fashion, scratched classical concerts and embarrassing compilations.

It’s harvest time. Autumn is undeniable. A colourful carpet of leaves litters the pavements. Remarkably warm. Monday’s blue skies set of the spectacle of the trees display. When the October weather is like this there’s not much to complain about. Crisp walks through the dappled light as the low sun’s rays shine through the branches. Good to be alive.

Looking out of the window in the early morning it was as if it was a spooky daytime. In a monochrome light the outline of the tree line was like a cutout silhouette. Nothing could move without being seen. Grass glittered. Hedges stood like army ranks. All because of the intensity of the moonlight. Constant in the cool air.

The pop tune that entered my head was there for the taking but I’d left it to one side. This is a song that resonated from my boyhood. Some might cringe a bit. Let’s suspend judgement and let the 1970s be the 1970s. “Under the moon of love” is about as catchy as it gets. Showaddywaddy[1] dressed up in their brightly coloured exaggerated 1950s garb. They were not the only ones to do that for Top of the Pops. What’s memorable is the danceability of their pop classics. It makes me want to move. Don’t tell anybody. Sadly, my long hair has long gone.

It’s the time of the harvest moon. So, it’s a time for moon tunes. Not just any moon but the first supermoon of the year will grace the sky tonight, Tuesday 7th October. This bright full moon of 2025 will light up the nighttime. It will not have a musical accompaniment in my garden even if there’s a lot to choose from. The neighbours wouldn’t like it.

The best of the pile is Neil Young and his Harvest Moon[2]. 180 degrees from the Showaddywaddy pop effort. Neil scores top rating. It’s melodic, melancholy and memorable. Fantastic. Just right for a quite evening gazing at the moon overhead.

On a melodic theme the next one I’d recommend is from Nick Drake[3]. Again, it’s the 1970s that provides the music. It was a decade of variety, to say the least. Song writers were pushing the boat out and coming up with magical results.

And here’s another. Another to dance to in the moonlight. Moondance in fact. Van Morrison[4] this time. Perfect for an October night.

And if anyone has ever doubted the genius of Beethoven there’s the Moonlight Sonata.

The coming night will mark the start of a run of 3 supermoons. November and December will be graced with magical moons. I hope that’s an omen for good. Love and happiness.

POST: For more information BBC Radio 4: In Our Time: The Moon

https://www.bbc.co.uk/sounds/play/p0m77cfm

[1] https://youtu.be/qigUdmLyMBs

[2] https://youtu.be/n2MtEsrcTTs

[3] https://youtu.be/xqe6TF2y8i4

[4] https://youtu.be/7kfYOGndVfU