F*** it, Lucy, you’ve watered down my favourite wine

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From Mr James Preston.

Sir, In October 2007, somewhere near the peak of the market, Lucy Kellaway wrote that “ . . . to write f*** or s*** feels like draping a doily over a dog turd. The turd is still there: you can see it peeping through the holes and it smells just as bad, but its offensiveness is made worse by the futility of the effort to cover it up.” (“Damn good reasons for effing and blinding at work”, October 22 2007.) In August 2013 – arguably the trough of the recession – in her Dear Lucy column, she writes: “ . . . I would look him in the eye and say coldly: ‘F*** off, Trevor.’ ” (“Should I stand up to sexism at my intern placement?”, August 28.)

Is this an example of how these tough years have taken their toll on our stalwart journalists?

Has Lucy surrendered to the “effort to cover it up”, despite knowing it to be futile? Or was she reprimanded by the Editor in 2007 for using language inappropriate for a family newspaper, and is now toeing the corporate line?

Either way, I feel a bit cheated. It's a bit like finding a once favourite wine has been watered down.

F*** it, Lucy, just say it as it is.

James Preston, Temprano Capital Partners, Madrid, Spain

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