Quebec has perfected such a vast variety of profanity that it’s been called “the Amazon rainforest of swear words”. But uttering these blasphemous terms could have once landed you in prison.
Thursday nights at Quebec City jazz joint Bar Sainte-Angèle are known for a buzzy open mic where veterans swap improvisational riffs with students from the nearby music conservatory. But as I elbowed towards the bar on a recent evening, I overheard a patron practicing a different local art with equal parts precision and heart.
“Sacrement d’ostie de tabarnak”, he said, cursing as his eyebrows climbed towards the bar’s heavy-timbered ceiling. Taken literally, it translates to “sacrament of the communion host of the tabernacle”. But the real meaning is anything but churchly.
