Much has been seen in the press, on televisory devices, and heard on The Light Programme recently about our beloved craft. Most people are ignorant of the disciplines fecking places upon the practitioner ; the long years of trial and error; the endless Theory study and the ability a seasoned fecker must demonstrate in recognizing a fake feck.
Public ignorance extends to the majority of the population being unable to name any of the fecker’s tools or safety equipment. Many suggested that fecking was a type of wood-turning activity, or was connected in some way to chickens.
Fecking’s recent poor publicity is due almost entirely to upper class people discovering the word and repeating it, in public, over and over. The appearance of small buttonhole badges in the lapels and mink stoles of aristocrats exiting Claridges or the Casino at Monte Carlo saying "We’re all Feckers!" does not help the situation. The present Number One hit record by the Beverly Sisters – "We Love Fecking Muffin the Mule" is more proof positive that the ancient and honorable craft of fecking is regarded as little more than a music hall joke, polluting our noble language a la smutty double entendre. Only last week, the comedian Arthur "Ooh, Aye. That’s a Biggun" Crate opened his act at the Glossop Empire with a song entitled "I Can Feck With Mey Het Orn".
So I plead with qualified professional feckers to feck in private, or if that is not possible, to refrain from fecking until present hysteria subsides.
Thus far, I have been unable to identify the source of the leak. Exactly how the Hooray Henrys discovered fecking remains a mystery. More puzzling is the fact that registered feckers must also be Masons, individuals sworn, on threat of death by fecking to secrecy. The investigation continues….