At the risk of sounding like a right “CU Next Tuesday”, I think it’s high time we had a frank discussion about the use of the C-word in modern British English and how its usage appears to be increasing in recent years.



However, herein lies the anxiety of using the C-bomb. While I am very happy to use it (a little too liberally admittedly) in my everyday parlance, it still feels slightly shocking to see it written down and one is reminded that, for many, it is still the last word in offensiveness.

Furthermore, my mum is probably reading this and it would really upset her to see it in print. So for this reason, I’ll stick with the C-word where possible, rather than cunt.

It seems that this old word, beloved of Chaucer and Shakespeare, is enjoying a renaissance. Kickstarted perhaps by the feminist movement reclaiming it in the 1970s, it now seems to be used across the board to describe a wide range of situations, things, people and phenomena.



In 2014, the Oxford English Dictionary announced that it would be adding cunty, cuntish, cunted and cunting to its venerable tome. Suddenly, the word originally used to describe a lady’s undercarriage is not only a noun, but also an adjective and a verb – and it’s precisely this linguistic versatility that I find so appealing.

I also delight in the sound of the word: the monosyllabic weight of it, the harsh consonants. I particularly enjoy hearing it in my own east London accent – the way the U is drawn out and the letter T is exaggerated. Ts are routinely dropped from a cockney’s speech and it is as if special reverence is placed upon the C-word, making us want to relish every one of its four letters. This seems appropriate, as the first use of the word, according to the OED, was in the London street name Gropecunt Lane (1230).



I particularly like using it to describe inanimate objects. When there is a major delay on the tube, for example, my Facebook feed becomes a steady stream of updates referring to the Central line as one, because quite frankly, it is. Certain situations just cry out for it – keys breaking in the lock, not being able to find the starting point in a roll of sticky-tape, running out of bin-bags. The kind of everyday annoyances that Alanis Morissette would define as irony are actually cunts as far as I’m concerned.

Sometimes it is the only appropriate word for a particularly annoying person or their shoddy behaviour. In this instance, I find it extremely cathartic to shout it really loudly. Drivers who pull out of side-streets with no warning, Victoria Beckham’s posts on social media, people who don’t reply to emails, and certain politicians are all worthy recipients of the word.

However, with its increased frequency in modern British English, the C-word seems to be losing some of its harshness and edge. In fact, in certain friendship groups (including mine), it has almost become a term of endearment. This says a lot about the perversities of the British psyche – horrified at the thought of giving a compliment or displaying affection, British people somehow feel more comfortable using the C-bomb to refer to their nearest and dearest.

One of my closest friends regularly greets me with “all right, you little cunt” when “hello” would probably suffice. Meanwhile another pal refers to us as “a pair of cunts”, to indicate our strength of friendship and unique bond.

In American English, the word is still terribly taboo. Our US cousins wouldn’t dream of using it unless they wanted to offend someone in the worst possible way and it is far more incendiary than the ubiquitous Mofo.

But here in the UK there is something inherently humorous and naughty about it. Depending on the context and the way it is uttered, it has the potential to defuse tense situations. Comedian Micky Flanagan does a funny skit where he talks about couples reaching a level of intimacy where they can “cunt each other off” with impunity; the ultimate in #relationshipgoals and domestic ease.

Both Chaucer and Shakespeare used the C-word frequently to provide comic relief. I remember being delighted, when studying Hamlet at A-level, to learn that Shakespeare was a fan, using the term “country matters” as deftly and cryptically as only he could, to refer to oral sex. A kind of Shakespearian punnilingus, if you will. Meanwhile, Chaucer uses the Middle English variation queynte throughout The Canterbury Tales.

It seems that modern usage of the word has deviated far from its original root for describing female genitalia. As keen as we are to use the word as a reprimand, an insult, a term of endearment, a noun, an adjective or a verb, it seems slightly too crude to use it to describe one’s nether regions.

Instead, we seem more comfortable with infantile euphemisms such as fanny and noonie in our everyday speech. However – and perhaps this is where my feminist credentials kick in – sometimes I take utter delight in using the word in its original context. It sounds powerful, raw and earthy. I am woman; hear me swear.