I swear I’ll give jury service selection my best shot next week – and that’s nothing but the truth - Vladimir McTavish

Readers of this column who are also familiar with my live stand-up act will notice one subtle difference between what I write for the page and what I say on the stage. Swearing - or lack of it.

Still from the film Twelve Angry Men

Since I became the regular Saturday opinion writer back in February, and on the numerous times I’ve filled for other contributors over the years, I have never typed a single swear word in my copy.

Comedians swear, it’s all part of the act. Audiences expect some rich language when they go to a stand-up show. Many of us do it less for effect than for punctuation.

Take out the F-words and the rhythm of the gag doesn’t quite seem right. Take out the C-word and you may well have taken out the punchline.

I was booked to do a family friendly “swear-free” gig at the Brighton Fringe in May and it’s safe to say it was a weird experience for both punters and comics alike.

We came prepared not to curse, they appeared to have come prepared not to laugh. It was no fun for anyone in the room.

Tuesday is normally the one day of the week when I spend three hours intentionally not swearing.

Let me explain. For a number of years, I have been volunteering for Cancer Research UK. Every Tuesday morning, I am involved at the cutting edge of medical research, namely selling other people’s old trousers. Who knew that was the cure? I work behind the counter of the charity’s Stockbridge branch in Raeburn Place.

While it is entirely normal behaviour to utter filth and profanity in my gainful employment, it is of course totally inappropriate in a charity shop. Especially a charity shop in Stockbridge, where the effete locals would doubtless be mortified.

I often find myself trying to describe that neighbourhood to fellow Glaswegians thus: “You know what we all think of Edinburgh folk? That’s what they think of people from Stockbridge”.

Anyway, this Tuesday I had to take time out from clean language and selling jumpers to the citizens of EH4, as I was stuck in the house twiddling my thumbs, waiting for a phone call.

I had received a jury citation, which involves making various calls to an automated phone line. On Sunday it told me to call back again the next day. On Monday it told me to wait for a phone call the next day.

I have been called up for jury service in the past and was excused mainly on the grounds that I would have had to cancel several engagements in various parts of the UK. However, I also explained to the woman on the phone that as a stand-up comedian, I might not be an appropriate person to serve.

When she found out my name, she said “Oh, I’ve seen you. You’re right, you’re definitely inappropriate”. Let’s face it, if it’s wrong to swear in a charity shop, it is beyond unacceptable to do so in a court of law.

Anyway, it transpires they do want me this time, for around four or five days. Which sounded OK at first, until a thought entered my head.

Four or five days without swearing? How am I going to manage that, for f***’s sake ?