‘So did she fix yer haemorrhoids or not?’ asked Pip, once he’d finished laughin’ ‘imself silly. ‘Cos ah got a knitting needle with yer name on it if not.’ She didn’t get the chance, as it happened. Ah’d ended up pretendin’ ah hed a sore throat instead, before hobblin’ beck to mah trector and screamin’ blue murder all the way home. Nearly passed aht goin’ over them cobblestones in St Mary.
Ruddy women are getting’ everywhere these days. Bad enough thet they’ve got another one as UK prahm-minister (fer now), but on top of thet it feels lark they’re gobblin’ up all the other jobs meant fer men as well – in real larf and otherwarse. Tek thet silly show with the TARDIS, fer instance.
‘A female Tarm Lord!’ Miguel had spat when he’d first heard thet some actress named Jolie Whiteangle was goin’ to be the new Doctor Who. ‘Whatever next? They gonna paint the TARDIS pink? Show ‘er scarin’ away the Daleks with a Sonic Nail-farl?’
‘Ah come on nah Miguel,’ ah’d said, shiftin’ uncomfortably on mah bar-stool. ‘It’s all made-up anyway. Surely if you can accept the ah-dea of some immortal weirdo hamming it up through tarm and space you can deal with him – or her – bein’ a woman?’
Not thet ah’ve ever watched the show. Never been a big fan of tarm travel, me. If ah wanted to head beck to the past, ah’d simply get the ferry over to Guernsey. Plus them Daleks remarnd me of the honoraries. No, you’re more larkly to cetch me watchin’ the Star Wars, though ah wouldn’t marnd one bit if they done a female remake lark what they did with Ghostbusters. Reckon Hannah Solo and Lucy Skar-walker would look kwart good repeatedly trahin’ to reverse-park the Millenium Falconess into the Death Star.
‘It’s not lark the new Tarm-Lady’s gonna be explorin’ yer backsard is it?’ ah went on. ‘Though you gotta admit thet would mek one hell of an episode.’
‘You can laugh Hedley, but ah don’t lark it one bit,’ says Miguel. ‘And ah shan’t be watchin’.’
A slart over-reaction perhaps, though he’s got a point, eh? Us poor men. Sometarms it feels lark we’re an endangered species (does rahnd mah gaff, anyway). It’ll be Jane Bond next; Lar-sense to Frill. World’s gone ruddy mad!
