Can we talk about the addition ‘blood’ for a moment?’

I have written history (in somewhat negative terms, that is) at the mother of a little friend where I was a girl of five a cup of tea was offered. Where my mother always added an ice cube or a splash of milk, I got the tea as it should be. So on a saucer and hot in temperature. I took a sip, gargled the tea somewhere in my throat and after a strong cough, I seem to have said the following: ‘That tea is blood-curdling hot.’

Anyway. My father as a captain on the high seas so his language is sometimes a bit less polished and what do you do as a child: you pick it up. Acknowledged.

Maybe it's because of this incident that has of course been told a hundred times, but I have something, or better said nothing, with the addition ‘blood’.

Blood hot, so be it. Blood rush, fine. Blood own I also understand. But suddenly, whether we collectively agreed on it, everywhere, and I mean really everywhere, the adjective ‘blood’ is attached. And that little word blood is preferably pronounced with a thick l. Be-loed. Channel your inner Gerard Joling and then you’ve got it. That l.

Anna Nooshin is ‘blood beautiful’, that assignment is ‘blood difficult’, that clip is ‘blood sexy’, at the party it was ‘blood pressure’ (when I read this out loud, I have to laugh because ‘blood pressure’ is quite ‘blood funny’) and the movie was of course not extremely but ‘blood exciting’ and those pants were ‘blood ugly’, taking the train through that tunnel was ‘blood scary’ and you had to get out of bed ‘blood early’.

Dear people, shall we stop using ‘together’ (another phrase that you suddenly hear everywhere, from politicians to police officers)? Because it's a millimeter away from me using it too, and I find that quite bloody irritating.