Indo-European proto-bad-language

We hear so much about an Indo-European proto-language that may have arisen in the fertile crescent of Iraq etc and formed the now genetically-ingrained base from which every language on earth evolved: support for which is the global prevalence of "Mama" and "Dada" and some very compelling corroborative evidence about perceived meanings of nonsense words the world over (eg does 'Osh' sound wet or dry, does 'Titi' sound small or big, everyone seems to give the same answer).
I posit that the ability to swear is hard-wired into us from birth. For years all the Piddlers have been calling each other Poo-heads (and I say it with venom) or stinky-pants. I myself have shown an innate ability to determine where a swear-word should fit in a sentence: its meaning, when and how to use it. Of course, there is a-hole in my vocabulary, but that'll come with time and I'll end up swearing like the rest of the troopers.
Currently I will say "Oh Fip" or "Oh Fitch" at exactly the right time: I also use experimental expletives from gobbledegook - "Fic-Fac-Foc" to elaborate constructions such as "What the FibuloGrackle is going on?" I wonder whether other Piddlers have similar slang, other obscenities and collateral curses.
In a futile rude gesture, our teachers attempt to prolong innocence: yesterday, while choosing between 2 Mr Men books, instead of a well-known rhyme, I said:

"Eeny, meeny, miney mo,

the cat has flu,

the dog has chickenpox,

I choose you!"

This draws a greater parallel to the reprehensible "Baa baa green sheep" than it does to the modern scares about cross-species pathogen transfer.

Furthermore, I opine that, as an Anglo-Saxon, I am best placed to use a plethora of profanity. Not for me the lightweight French-style front-of-mouth 'tricoter' frog in the throat or the guttural 'Untermöglich-bauhausbundschuss' of the Black Forest Ghetto. I inherit the spittle-flecked best of the best, as spread across the seven seas by the British Royal Navy, and to the very stars themselves by Hollywood.
Or maybe it's just bad parenting, letting loose their torrents of vile abuse when they think I'm not listening.

7/10 **

Needs better examples

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Doggy Tails

DylanDog (AKA DevilDog) was on thin ice at Erins'. His toilet habits meant at least 3 little brown piles of goo for ErinsDad to clean up every day. But you are what you eat: now ErinsMum has moved him onto steak and caviar like the rest of them, he's as right as rain.

Anyway, at school pickup time, it was unexpectedly book fair day so we nipped home to get all the cash we had (£4) and ran back. It turned out to be a bookshop, practically, so the cheapest was about £5. Of course I wanted the magazine with small lego monster attached but that would mean going against the saving-up-for-the-giant-lego project. I settled for a rubber hand on a stick for which Bud could think of many uses but he wouldn't tell me.

After cheese and custard it was football/mixed sporting events time. Ben and Bob and Harry and the gang played with me and I was on orange team again. Even though I was actually wearing orange, I had to have the Hi-Vis orange jacket thing which looks like a toga on me as I'm the smallest there. We all had a great time and then we did sand-skids with Johnny on the tennis court.