Actually, there are two other kinds of people in the world. Those who believe there are two kinds of people in the world, and those smart enough to know anyone who thinks that is a fekking eejit. (When spoken with an Irish lilt, that profanity sounds almost like a term of endearment.)

Swearing, whether we like it or not, is part of modern language and our linguistic heritage.

Mark Latham may have packed up his bat and ball, but the former Opposition Leader will be long remembered for his ugly "arselicker" description of the Prime Minister, as much for his manboobs.

Incidentally, forget pancreatitis. Surely it was the haircut that killed off his political chances. Mind you, a dodgy haircut has never stood in the way of leadership aspirations in Australia. Comb-overs and little boy college cuts abound in Parliament.

Swearing is in the air. It has even infested opera. Or is it opera that's infested swearing? The profanity-laden Jerry Springer - The Opera caused an uproar when screened on the BBC. It became the most complained about television program in history.

A couple of little things got up people's noses. The word f--- was mentioned 117 times, which tends not to happen so much in traditional opera. And it featured a scene in which Jesus appeared in a sequinned nappy and engaged the devil in a swearing match.

More than 1.7 million people watched, double the audience for an average opera. Even before it was screened, the BBC received 45,000 complaints. Now, wait a minute. Two things. Firstly, a lot of people went out of their way to watch, desperately hoping to be shocked and outraged. (Ok. I actually don't have a "secondly", but a friend of mine swears by the "two things" strategy for sounding an authority on a subject.)

Swearing can get you into trouble. Remember the taste of Sunlight soap? But swearing can get you out of trouble too.

Long-dead humourist Finley Peter Dunne believed swearing was invented as a compromise between running away and fighting. I'm with Finley. When confronted with someone abusing, lecturing or issuing you with yet another unfair parking ticket, there is something exquisitely satisfying about telling them where to stick it.

Some say swearing is how humans bark. A swear word's power makes it irrepressible and indispensable. The key is avoiding overuse. A none-swearer's rare lapse packs ten times more punch than the expletive-littered spray of a frequent let-flyer.

The favourite of today's generation, the word f---, taboo for more than 500 years, has long lost its shock value. Middle-aged middle-class mums wear the French Connection's UK brand "fcuk" T-shirts while their eight-year-olds tell them they can't spell. The media gets the blame. Some believe it has all been downhill since the early 1900s when Eliza Doolittle urged her nag at Ascot to "Move yer bloomin' arse!"

Sometimes mischievous use can take the edge off the profanity. A colourful and well-loved Queensland obstetrician, with a naughty boy demeanour, is known to swear more than his mothers in labour. (Note: Swearing during birth doesn't count.) One of his favourites is "Oh, go f--- a bear", which seems to amuse his private patients, despite the double whammy of profanity and bestiality.

So is swearing more acceptable with a classy accent? Certainly, the opening minutes of Four Weddings and a Funeral when plummy Hugh Grant's character wakes up late and endlessly reiterates: "F---, f---, f---ety f---" is endearing rather than aggressive.

Swearing has gone on-line. There are websites to teach you how. Swearsaurus bills itself as the world's largest resource of multilingual swearing.

And there is help for those wanting to stop. The Homemaking Cottage website offers tips for "curbing that cussing". It also features segments entitled "Become the Queen of Clean" and "Miss Orderly and Organised" guaranteed to make any modern woman swear like a bullocky.

Don't get me wrong. Excessive and inappropriate swearing is insulting, offensive, crass and boring. But there are people who criticise swearers yet use racist and homophobic terms. Or gossip cruelly. They bag the f-word yet sprinkle their conversations with "coon" or "queue jumpers".