I grew up in a vehicle repairs (including those of buses, lorries and tractors) environment. Admittedly, the workers consisted mainly of school drop-outs and some of them later became gangsters. I used to hear stories of so and so, working in the same compound by day, but fought as opposing gang members at night! One thing in common was the foul language spoken, mainly in Cantonese. Strangely, despite all the exposure, I did not acquire the bad habit.
Recently, someone sent me a recorded telephone conversation in Cantonese, of a caller and the person who answered the call, in Hong Kong. I forwarded it to a shop manned by three young ladies, who have the habit of using foul language whenever it suited them. Now and again, one of them would switch on the recording and everyone would laugh about it. It was like revision to improve on their foul language skills! Sometimes, even Indians or Malays would laugh because they too know some common phrases. In fact, in Perak, there are many Indians who can speak Cantonese or Hakka, just like the Chinese, or even better than some, like my wife who speaks Cantonese with a mixture of Hakka.
Anyway, here is the joke:
A man went to church one day and afterward he stopped to shake the preacher's hand. He said, 'Preacher, I'll tell you, that was a damned fine sermon. Damned good!'
The preacher said, 'Thank you sir, but I'd rather you didn't use profanity..'
The man said, 'I was so damned impressed with that sermon I put five thousand dollars in the offering plate!'
The preacher said, 'No shit?'
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