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I swear, cursing no longer shocks me

AS the Aberdeen train pulled into Queen Street station I prepared to disembark.

Standing by the door I heard an anguished cry from inside the toilet, the gist of which was: "I'm an oilman, get me out of here!" The sentiment, however, was expressed in language that in a family newspaper may best be described as fruity. Eventually, the toilet's occupant – a young man so inebriated he fell backwards when he pulled on his rucksack – was released by the guard, whom he thanked profusely and profanely. It was this, rather than his drunkenness, which shocked other passengers and me, his inability to utter a sentence without the use of a pungent swear word.

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