One weekend my brother and I were on the couch just chilling out. Anton was singing the Sweet’s Fox on the Run with the appropriate emphasis on Fox so it sounded like “Faaaarx on the Run … “.
Our little sister Charlene, who was six at the time and excelled at dobbing, yelled out “Mum, Anton said fuck!” and within seconds he was getting several layers of shit smacked out of him. Mum must have travelled through three walls to get from the girls’ bedroom to the living room in the 3.3 seconds it took to arrive on the scene to hand out justice.
It went like this (in about the same time it takes to read it):
Faaarx on the Run
“Mum, Anton said fuck!”
“Huq, you fucken rude bastard”
Aaaaaargh! Nooo! Ouch!
Ha ha ha (me laughing)
I sat on the couch transfixed in equal measures of amusement, awe and horror. I instantly rose to the defence of my hapless brother. Not because I felt sorry for him, but because I was worried that this crazy woman could turn on me. I calmly explained that Anton said fox as in Fox on the Run, but she was gone and laying into Charlene for swearing and dobbing before I could finish my explanation.
Ironically mum hated it when we dobbed.