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Why let battle be joined?

I’ll tell you why I say ‘let battle be joined.’ Just who does EdZilla thinks she is? She reminds me of my first wife; except with bigger vocabularies. So ‘Big Ginge’ is not to reach a crescendo of passion in the gym with Boy Wonder? We’ll see about that! 

For heavens’ sake! I can remember a wedding a few thousand years ago – not one of my own, obviously – when I met a not altogether dissimilar lady with whom I had a deep and meaningful relationship in the hotel gym; until her bloody boyfriend turned up. It shows the hero’s got taste! And, er, a real awareness of the feminine psyche, er, … and its need for a bloody good seeingto with a pulsating pork sword [del Ed] er, … an ardent romantic encounter. As and when a discerning public reads of The Final Arbiter they’ll see what I mean.

Humbug

‘Not central to the story.’ Humbug! He’s a lonely mad psychopath with a death-wish who’s still in love with his dead lover! So of course he needs the odd shag![del Ed]  Sorry; so he needs the lurve of a good woooman; especially one with big hooters and legs up to her fanny. Whatever happened to ‘liberated woman’? Oh, that’s right; she got married, had kids, worried about her stretch marks and shagged the divorce lawyer in the hope of reducing the bill.

Liberated advice

It’s at moments like these that I ask myself, what would Germaine Greer do? Besides, I gather that the authorette of The Female Eunuch has been drummed out of the Brownies for showing excessive interest in matters horticultural; sort of ‘Lady Chatterbox’s Topiarist’. Anyway, she’s an Aussie. (Note to Edzilla – that’s the big bit near New Zealand.)

However, no problem for Captain Fabulous! I’ll be especially nice about EdZilla’s next ‘Coq au Vindalism’.  With any luck it’ll shock her into a decline so she ends up editing ‘Orgasm Monthly’, for the seriously optimistic housewife who actually believes inErectile Dysfunction. It means he doesn’t want to shag you anymore! But Miss Whippy down The Old Kent Road at fifty quid a shot is quite another thing – “On the Third Stroke it will cost you two hundred pounds.”  The word for marriage is not ‘Monogamy’ it’s ‘Monotony’. It suddenly gives the carol, ‘Oh Come All Ye Faithful’ a certain pubic poignancy.

Anyway; I’ve better things to do than waste my genius on Power Mad Editresses (Editrix?). When I suggested that she was inhibiting my Creative Muse, she informed me that the next time she met Captain Fabulous, she was going to take him outside, and kick his twigs and berries so far up his digestive tract that he’d be charged with indecent exposure every time he opened his mouth for the rest of his pathetic life. 

Editors! Clear evidence that those who can, do and those who can’t, edit. No? Burger off! I hate everybody.  Again.
 
by John J McCabe
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