Many years ago my family spent its summer hollidays on the south coast of Kent in a town called Dymchurch.
Dymchurch has a very gently sloping beach resulting in a great expanse of sand for children and adults to play and picnic on at low tide.
At the time of this story my sister was a mere 5 years old and had been taught her numbers and alphabet prior to her induction into the UK school system.
So, bright sun, calm winds, little girl sat on the sand with a bucket and spade making sand pies.
She begins to sing......Aucket, Bucket, Cucket, Ducket, Eucket........god no...but yes .....F.......et and on and onto Z.
Most didn't notice the F word, but the little girl does. the F seems very attractive.So there she sits, singing at the top of her voice......F.......et, F....et, F....et.
At this point my father, not normally a coward, announces it's time he went to get ice creams for the family and, to my shame, I (being 11 years old) volunteer to go with him.
How my mother handled this I have no idea, but the F word never again passed my sister's lips, as far as I know, until many years later when she used it to describe the desires of her ex.