One guy who worked for me used to say "Oh fudge," when something went terribly, terribly wrong. And he wasn't a little delicate fellow, he was a big, strapping, but very polite gentleman. So one day I said, "Oscar, everyone knows fudge means fuck. Why not just say it?" And he never said fudge again. Nor, I hasten to add, did he take my suggestion. All I had done was to put a little bit of pleasurable relief out of his reach.
My mother's favorite expression was shucks. But because she had a slight Norwegian accent, it came out as chucks. As in "Oh, chucks."
My dad, a devotee of "shit, " put the hard Scandinavian pressure on consonants, so it was more like "ShiTTTTT-e."
For great joy and great pain, I'm pretty basic and explode with a fuck and a shit on a regular basis. Crap, as a fallback position, and pig-fucker if I want a laugh.
Why, with my love of language don't I scream "It was the best of times it was the worst of times!" when the hammer lands on my thumb? More comfort, surely, can be found in that line. Or "Here we are on a darkling plane!" when the dog makes ill use of my carpet. There are a million great quotes at our disposal. Car won't start? "Oh, what a rogue and peasant slave am I!"
Instead, I resort to the F or the S or, to break out of these monosyllabic barriers, the CS word.
How fucking unimaginative is that?