We lived in Australia for many years where the expression was ‘go and root’ meaning the same as F… off.
When we returned to the U.K. the f word sounded dreadful to me. My eight year old was invited to play with the son of the local landowner, big country house, hunting, shooting, fishing, green wellies, wax jacket.
I went to collect him and was invited to stay for a cuppa. My hostess shouted up the stairs to her five year old, time to get out out of the bath Rupert. The boy shouted ‘I’ve got my fucking action man stuck in the fucking plug hole’. I gasped as I expected her to go charging up the stairs to drag him out of the bath and reprimand him, but no, she just shouted back ‘well fucking well pull it out and do as your told.
She did become one of my very best friends and I became used to her colourful vocabulary but didn’t adopt it, at least not in public.