Same Word, Different Nerve

**Verse 1** In Canada I dropped the word and watched the whole room die, Like I’d slapped their maple syrup and insulted apple pie. “Maybe don’t say that here”—yeah, cheers for the advice, Back in Britain we’ve said worse before we’ve ordered twice. Scotland throws it casually like punctuation with teeth, Australia fires it freely with a beer and zero grief. Ireland hears it, laughs it off, New Zealand joins the game, Same four fucking letters—but the outrage ain’t the same. **Pre-Chorus** So clutch your pearls, call the cops, Act like civilisation stops. It’s one damn word, not World War Three, But apparently I broke diplomacy. **Chorus** You can say **cunt** here, But apparently not there, One place buys you another pint, One place needs emotional repair. Same mouth, same word, Different level of despair, If four little letters ruin your day— Mate, life is gonna eat you alive out there. You can say **cunt** here, And watch the whole room split, Half are laughing their arses off, Half are losing their shit. Stamp my passport, search my bag, Confiscate my attitude too— You can ban the bloody word, But you can’t stop me thinking it of you. **Verse 2** Toronto says, “That’s offensive,” Glasgow says, “Who, that cunt?” Sydney’s already yelled it six times somewhere out the front. England says, “Depends, mate—was the bastard being thick?” While someone else needs therapy because language had some kick. Your outrage got a passport, your offence went worldwide, You climbed upon your moral horse then fell off the other side. If context is too difficult and tone goes over your head, Maybe blame your listening skills, not every word I said. **Pre-Chorus** Call me rude, call me crude, Tell me I’ve got attitude. You can write your angry essay too— I’ll spell the word correctly just for you. **Chorus** You can say **cunt** here, But apparently not there, One place buys you another pint, One place needs emotional repair. Same mouth, same word, Different level of despair, If four little letters ruin your day— Mate, life is gonna eat you alive out there. **Rap Break** Canada froze— Scotland laughed. Australia said it Before I’d finished the first half. England shrugged, Ireland grinned, New Zealand went, “Fuck it, let the chaos begin.” You want polite? Wrong bloody song. You want clean language? You’ve been here too long. No slurs, no hate, Just vocabulary with bite, If a swear word ruins your evening You were fragile before tonight. I didn’t cross an ocean To whisper and behave, I brought British-grade profanity And absolutely zero shame. So clutch that handbook, Highlight every rule, You can police my vocabulary— You still can’t fix a fool. **Bridge** Same planet. Same language. Different fucking nerve. Some people hear a swear word And think society has swerved. But I know my crowd, I know when to stop, And I know when someone deserves The verbal equivalent of a mic drop. **Final Chorus** You can say **cunt** here, But maybe watch the room, Some will laugh until they choke, Some will act like judgement day came early at noon. From Canada to Britain, From Sydney up to Dundee, The word hasn’t changed one bloody bit— Only how dramatic people choose to be. So stamp the passport, raise the pint, Let every timezone hear: One country calls it offensive, Another calls their best mate “cunt” with cheer. Same word. Same mouth. Same glorious attitude too. And if you’re still offended by the final verse— **Well, guess which word I’m thinking of for you.**