We can get caught up in writing the Queen’s English or The President’s Argot, but why not be comfortable in the language of your locale.
I was dragged up speaking Scots. Some say it’s a dialect of English but it has now, rightly in my opinion, been recognised as a language in its own right.
The words and phrases of my youth have a resonance different from the formality of this standard English. Fash, egjit, numptie, scunner, and a whole language more.
Go back to the patois or creole of your childhood.
Let emotions rip.
This post was previously published on another blog of mine which is going dark.