“Ullo, ullo, it’s Frankie Wortho!”
As a teenager in the early 1970s, Frank Worthington was my footballing hero. He also introduced the then unworldly me to a brand new swear word, when he bellowed “c***!” at the linesman, who had just awarded a throw-in to our opponents. Its execution was indeed a masterclass in the efficacy of an economy of language. Sadly, Frank passed away in 2021, but his linguistic legacy lives on, as I have frequent recourse to use the expletive in my day to day existence.
PS. Look at all that litter left on the terraces behind the great man.