My nana was a little Irish old lady. As innocent looking as they come. Nobody would ever believe us when we said she swore like a trooper. Especially towards my granddad. She absolutely adored him but acted like she hated him and it was hilarious.
Every Sunday, she'd cook us a roast dinner, and every Sunday he'd be late home from the pub just to wind her up (there was no malice, it was just fun between them). When he'd come in tipsy, she'd say, "You baldy headed, pixie eared bastard, sit down at that table and eat your food". Again, he'd purposely wind her up, he'd force a belch out or something, and it'd set her off. "You dirty, fat bastard, I fucking hate him, he's disgusting". "See this pan, do that again and I'll belt you over that baldy head with it".
It sounds really crude written down but in reality, it was hilarious. Nine times out of ten, she was a well-spoken, sweet old lady. But there was something about my cheeky granddad that'd trigger her to become such a potty mouth. My granddad got such a kick out of it, he'd have tears rolling down his face from laughing, all the while she's telling him she'll crucify him in his sleep if he dares breathe in the same room as her again 