I don't know if dabs exist anywhere else in the world, but in Feniscowles in Blackburn, they were slices of huge baking potato dipped in batter and fried. At 10p each, they were an extremely cheap, tasty and unhealthy meal for a growing child.
Paul H., our school's most prolific and robotic swearer, simply could not order a dab without referring to it as a "fucking dab". In everyday life, some nouns would escape the fucking prefix. But never dabs. Perhaps he just thought dabs was too short a word to make sense on its own - perhaps he just fucking hated the fucking dabs.
Briefly, the school grounds became 'The Place of the Eighteen Fuckings', when Paul H was hit across the back of his legs by his best friend, and managed eighteen uninterrupted fuckings before another word broke the flow. I think this has never been beaten anywhere else in the world.