Because in my day job I inhabit a macho, man's world I tend to swear a lot. All the time actually. It doesn't mean anything. Sometimes though the swearword gets picked up, analysed and thrown back at you in an amusing way.
Here's some standard rejoinders.
"Fuck me!" you say in amazement.
To which the polite response is, "Not while there's still dogs in the street."
"Fucking hell!" you say, even more amazed.
"Let's hope they do," is the suitably pious reply.
And now, after an exhilarating day, I'm knackered. Emotionally drained as you can see. I'm off to get quietly pissed, slumped in a corner, listening to "The Wrecking Ball" by Emmylou Harris, which I've just bought.
Have a good weekend, you hear.