Definition of a fuckwit, by the Urban Dictionary: ‘a person who is not only lacking in clue but is apparently unable or unwilling to acquire clue even when handed it on a plate in generous portions.’ New year, new me? Well, not quite…the fuckwits are back with a vengeance. Have you noticed it? Well, now you are warned. They are more condescending than ever, and they will make a point of, well, scoring points. Fuckwits do not care about what you say, they are going to correct the way you say it, and will be immensely proud of themselves along the way. Fuckwits come in all forms and shapes. In France, I used to try to answer back to them with a witty comment. To be fair, it was quite easy because most comments were sexist and easy to brush off. That said, I think that I was wasting my energy. Fuckwits don’t learn.
In London, I have given up answering back. There is no point, anyway. You can’t educate a fuckwit. And as English is not my mother tongue, I often think of something intelligent I could have said a couple of hours too late. Not very useful. Since the start of 2014, I have already had to deal with a few fuckwits, and, believe me, it wasn’t pleasant. This year, the British fuckwit seems to love to correct my bad English in public, and preferably in slightly humiliating ways. Don’t get me wrong: I know that English isn’t my first language, and I do appreciate it when people take the time to correct my mistakes. What I don’t like is when it is done in a nasty way, or with an ironic twist. I find it completely unnecessary. Let me take a couple of (very) recent examples: I moved house, and I have sent cards to my new neighbours to introduce ourselves. I started each card with ‘Dear new neighbour…’ One of my neighbours replied that we were the new neighbours, not him. Lovely touch. I could have thanked him for the vocabulary lesson. I didn’t. I let it slide.
Then, at work, I wrote an email recommending triple glazing for a building (there were sound proofing issues). Instead of writing ‘triple glazing’, I made a typo and wrote ‘tripe glazing’. It happens, right, especially with a tablet? no big deal, and I am sure that everybody understood what I meant. A well-meaning colleague made the point of replying to all that ‘glazing with tripe may prove tricky’. How funny.
I am glad that nobody (not even me) answered back. It restored my faith in humanity. He might be a fuckwit, but I am surrounded by nice people. Well, that’s a relief!
So, tell me, what is it with fuckwits? How come they never learn? Why do they think that they are intelligent and witty when I find them full of themselves and condescending? Come to think if it, the fact that I am a French woman living in London must make me an easier target, right? I think that it might also be a personality thing: I care more about substance than style, and because of this I seem to attract fuckwits like a magnet. I really don’t know why. Where did I go wrong?
As I am older now, I have learned to ignore silly comments. Onwards and upwards, as they say. For me, one thing is crystal clear: I will move on and not let fuckwits get in my way. On the bright side, lots of nice people are surrounding me. It is what matters, right?
And it gets better: I will be on the cover of The Times magazine this Saturday. No fuckwit, British or French, can take this away from me…
Muriel – A French Yummy Mummy In London