Listen up folks! There is a new report from Keele University in the UK , where researchers are reporting that swearing reduces pain. The one caveat is that it works when you are not a habitual swearer.

To test the painkilling powers of swearing, student volunteers were asked to submerge their arms in icy water while repeating a word considered profane. They then repeated the act of submersion while repeating a harmless word.

Results proved that students who repeated the swear words were able to leave their arm in the icy water longer than those who used the harmless words. Researchers noted that, for students who weren't habitual swearers, the use of profanity was four times more effective in pain relief.

Researchers theorize that swearing may trigger the fight-or-flight instinct, which increases tolerance to pain.

The results of this study are no surprise to me. I have been in the labor and delivery room a few times and know a few ladies who can curl the hair in your ears with the words they scream while in pain.

And the most civil of us will often find ourselves reduced to guttural howlings of profanity when a toe encounters the edge of a bedpost or table leg.

Our mothers would be shocked, to say the least, if they heard what some of us yell when we cut ourselves with a kitchen knife, smash a finger with a hammer or when we bite our tongues while chewing. My Lord…brings tears to my eyes to think about it.

I have had a toothache that, if I had been able to talk, would have surely sent me to hell if I had known that a few well-placed cuss words would have reduced the pain.

The story doesn't mention psychic pain, but I suspect it works there, too. My husband can testify that I have used this method of pain relief a time or two during the course of our marriage. It seems to work better when you string together a few really good cuss words and talk about his mama.

I remember once when my parents were fighting. My mother had about two words of profanity in her whole profanity arsenal, but my poor father had only one --the S-word. As their fight dragged on, my mother deployed both of her words and may have recycled them a few times.

Well, my church-going, front-pew-sitting, deacon daddy, at his wits end and clearly fed up with mama's cussing, finally had had enough. He let loose a string of the worst words he knew --"Now s--t, woman! Now s--t, now! Just S--t!"

It still makes me laugh when I think about it. I just never considered that he was cussing her out for medicinal purposes.

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