In the days when The Scum was a paper of record (1871), the editor printed the phone number of one of its hacks in the rag, asking anyone who had had a bad day to phone him and give him an earful of the sweary soup. I've had a fecking bad day. Fecking trains! Fecking knobbers at work and I want to swear at someone RIGHT NOW. Pick on someone at random and then tell them to feck off. It really does help. So .... Sven You want fucking with the bell end of a rag man's trumpet. I feel better already. Who next for some therapy?