Bloody hell

A new survey finds that the average Briton uses 14 swear words per day, and 87 percent admit to swearing daily. Ninety-eight percent said they swear when angry.

A study by Nulon UK found that only 8 percent of the 2,139 respondents found cursing offensive in adult contexts like movies and workplaces.

Fookin' Brits. Full story here.

Ducking the stress

We all know stress can be a killer, but too little research focuses on the minor stresses of everyday life.

Yes, life catastrophes are stressful and our sympathies go out to anyone facing serious medical problems or divorce or any of the other "biggies" in the world of stress. But scientists give all their attention to the health effects of these major stressors, while ignoring the seemingly minor irritations that accumulate like hairline cracks in a dam.

Car trouble or parenthood or even burnt toast first thing in the morning can set your whole day on its ear, and can produce enough stress to shave years off your life.

This insidious everyday stress builds to a cumulative effect that researchers call "being nibbled to death by ducks."

Allow me to illustrate from a typical evening hour at our house. The tranquil domestic scene: Dad's watching a basketball game on TV. Mom's busy at the computer. Two sons and the dog play the roles of the ducks.

Dad's schedule goes like this:

7 p.m. -- Stop watching game to let dog out. Return to sofa.

7:03 p.m. -- Jump up and answer phone. It's for son No. 1.

7:06 p.m. -- Let the dog back in.

7:09 p.m. -- Jump up to check out funny noise being produced by toilet.

7:12 p.m. -- Return to sofa with no solution to toilet issue.

7:14 p.m. -- Get up to answer other phone. It's for son No. 2. Dad searches house, finds son No. 2 jumping on bed. Stern lecture must wait; son is wanted on the phone.

7:18 p.m. -- Dog brings son's dirty sock to Dad, who extricates sock from alligator-like jaws and marches to laundry room.

7:19 p.m. -- Dad tosses sock at the laundry basket. His aim isn't what it used to be. Sock bounces off rim and falls into tight space behind the clothes dryer. Dad curses.

7:19 p.m. to 7:25 p.m. -- Dad fishes behind dryer with the handle of a fly swatter, trying to snag stray sock.

7:26 p.m. to 7:30 p.m. -- Dad searches house for a particular toy -- a long handle with a grabber claw on one end -- because it's the perfect tool for sock retrieval. Sons can't be bothered to help in hunt. They're both on the phone.

7:35 p.m. -- Dad finds grabber toy, lying in plain sight. Returns to laundry room, muttering about vision and old age.

7:37 p.m. -- Dusty sock is successfully retrieved. (Victory should be a stress reliever, but …)

7:38 p.m. -- Dad throws sock at laundry basket. Sock, apparently intent on suicide, plunges
behind the dryer again.

7:39 pm. to 7:42 p.m. -- Creative cursing.

7:43 p.m. -- Repeat earlier steps to save sock. Dad carefully places it in laundry basket.

7:46 p.m. -- Dad returns to game. Finds that it's halftime. Grrr.

7:48 p.m. -- Jump up to answer phone. It's for son No. 1 again.

7:49 p.m. -- Let dog out.

7:50 p.m. -- Check toilet. Still making funny noise. More cursing.

7:53 p.m. -- Let dog in.

7:56 p.m. -- Jump up to answer phone. It's for son No. 2. Dad carries phone the length of the house to find boys feeding socks to the dog.

7:57 p.m. -- Dad clutches chest and reels around room. Sons, in unison, quack: "Look out! He's gonna blow!"

7:59 p.m. -- Mom, drawn by noise, interrupts Dad's tirade to say: "What's wrong with you? I thought you were watching the game."

8 p.m. -- Dad melts into trembling pile of protoplasm. Rest of family confused. Why is Dad so stressed?

And why does he keep raving about ducks?

All the rage

Spring is in the air, and a young man's thoughts turn to rage.

With the arrival of warm weather, cities are plagued by a blossoming of orange barrels and blinking sawhorses as all streets are demolished and rebuilt. Everywhere you turn, signs say, "Seek Alternate Route" until you end up back where you started. Motorists spend all day sitting in hot vehicles stalled in traffic, becoming edgier and more aggressive until words or fender paint are exchanged. Some short-fuse guy starts screaming and swinging or, worse, shooting a gun.

Suddenly, detours are the least of the problem.

Road rage has gotten a lot of media attention in the past few years, and airline rage is becoming more common all the time. But many other forms of rage exist in our hectic world. These rage phenomena have been overlooked by the press and the government, but they represent a ticking bomb that could detonate any second into senseless violence and random bad vibes.

Rage can happen anywhere, anytime, but you can protect yourself by becoming familiar with the symptoms of impending furor and by avoiding places where rage likely will erupt. Post offices, for instance.

Here, then, are some types of rage to watch out for:

--Home Improvement Store Rage: A man who's making his fourth trip of the day to a hardware store is only one metric-sized nut away from true rage. These guys roam the warehouse aisles, holding a broken part, grumbling to themselves while desperately searching for the correct replacement. And nothing fits. They can't remember what the other thing was they were supposed to buy. And they have to keep dodging those beeping forklifts. Next thing you know, our aspiring Bob Vila has become Attila the Hun.

This form of rage is particularly dangerous because there are so many blunt instruments and lethal gizmos at hardware superstores. Think nail guns.

--Package Rage: This form usually occurs within the home and, fortunately, causes only brief outbursts. It's triggered when a person tries to open a box of cereal or other packaged good and finds the words "Open Other End." For the thousandth time.

--Jogger's Rage: Rarely makes the news because joggers usually are armed with nothing more dangerous than underwear and $200 sneakers. But, trust me, they're really angry. Joggers often are set off by more sensible people who are driving cars in air-conditioned comfort. Various road hazards also cause this rage. See: "Curb Your Dog Rage."

--Personal Computer Rage: There's a reason it's called a computer "crash."

--Gardening Rage: Often triggered by defenseless animals such as gophers and rabbits, this rage can be particularly dangerous to the gardener himself and to anyone sipping beer nearby, particularly if said gardener happens to be holding a rake at the time.

--Plumbing Rage: From the slow torture of drip, drip, drip to the barked knuckles to the eventual flood damage, plumbing is rife with potential rage. Every fitting has to be tight enough that not a molecule of water can escape. But not too tight or it won't work. This form of rage often manifests itself in anti-social behavior such as cursing and "plumber's cleavage."

--Lawn Sprinkler Rage: See "Plumbing Rage."

--Rave Rage: Most prevalent in fathers whose daughters stay out dancing until 4 a.m. Highly explosive.

--Phone Rage: A particularly virulent form of rage with a variety of triggers: telemarketers, poor reception, midnight wrong-number calls from mysterious guys named Guido. Cellular phones have introduced a whole new format -- phone rage mixed with the ever-popular road rage. Call for our new safety brochure: "Hang up and Drive, You Idiot."

--Age Rage: The feeling, every time you look in the mirror, that you want to spit. Sometimes results in bizarre behavior such as radical plastic surgery and the purchase of sports cars.

--Rage Against the Darkness and the Light: For people who are angry all the time.

Now that you're more informed about rage, take the proper steps to shield yourself from it. Forewarned is forearmed. Get forewarned enough, you'll have arms like Popeye.

Just kidding. I didn't mean you look like Popeye. Did not. Aw, come on. Gee, you don't have to get mad about it. Hey, put down that rake . . .