However, my Twitter is not suitable for everyone. If your workplace disapproves of naughty words, you probably won't be able to read at work. I get angry a lot, and f-bombs are the quickest way to express that anger. If someone's behaviour appals me, I call them vile names (although I try not to use an insult that will splash other people). Less often, I talk frankly about matters sexual or share jokes about oral sex.
My Twitter is also subject to a generalised trigger warning. I tweet about things that enrage me, and very often that means some kind of injustice. I quote some of the most disgusting things I hear or read, the better to express what I loathe about them. I am very bitterly sarcastic; stripped of nuance by the twin constraints of text and a character limit, it might easily sound flippant. If you don't want to watch someone coping out loud with sexism, heterosexism, cissexism, classism, ableism and any other forms of oppression that happen to catch my eye, you're better off not following me. I also talk about my own struggles, including my rocky mental health and occasional suicidal ideation.
I assume the people who know what I'm talking about will know what I'm talking about. But since I use one set of vocabulary in my social-justice tweets and a different set in my football tweets, there's something for everyone to be puzzled by. Google ought to help with the social-justice terms, but I'm always open to reasonable requests for clarification. Crossing the streams - getting Scunthorpe fans to talk about oppression or political bloggers to express an interest in Scunthorpe - is one of the greatest joys Twitter can offer me.
One final note: if I tweet some form of swear word without further explanation, especially if it's Saturday between 1500 and 1700 UK time, you may safely assume Scunthorpe have just conceded a goal.