The number of owls we received today about Laddie the Lion's language is truly stunning, especially considering all the concerned parents were clearly willing to let their precious, impressionable children watch a sport where people get pummeled by outsize cannonballs and knocked off their brooms from several storeys' height.
Still, much as I hate to admit it, the pearl-clutching contingent may have a point: whereas bludgers and blood are institutional to Quidditch and only to be expected, the horrors of swearing aren't necessary and can be avoided -- at least on the part of the mascots, since we can't control who you may be sitting next to.
You could argue as well that swearing is harder to explain than violence, at least in this instance. In order to explain the word "fuck," you'd have to explain sex, and then why, if it is in fact a beautiful thing shared between people who love each other very much, it's also a very naughty word, and only grownups should use it, and technically not even them excessively because it makes you look like an idiot with a tiny vocabulary. It's a potential minefield of a conversation even if you don't agree with the latter point, and not something I relish discussing with any of my grandchildren.
But this, of course, assumes you believe in the innocence of children and their right to, for a time, not be excessively corrupted by the influence of the rest of the population, which are largely arseholes. And along with it, the right of parents to protect those children, at least while very young, from undue exposure to the evils of the world as they see it. Naturally, this may be quite a large assumption to make.
Personally, I was there with only my youngest grandchild, and she's small enough that none of the chant made a damn bit of sense to her, so all awkwardness and potential trauma was eliminated.