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Semper Fabulous Stupid

Will you stop doing that? [No. Ermintrude] It’s my blog! [It’s your funeral, you mean. Ermintrude] Who’s in charge here? [Me. Ermintrude] Bah! Dear reader, you will see, as ever, that I am once more beset by the Farces of Dimness, aka ‘The Coven’; in particular, my Power Mad, feminist computer, Ermintrude. [Hi there! Ermintrude] I am about to recount yet another victory for the power of sanity in a lunatic world, and, as usual, ‘The Sisterhood’ tries to prevent me from announcing my success. (He means he emptied the Dyson without any help, for the first time. EdZilla) No I don’t! Anyway, it’s not that victory I’m talking about! This concerns the titanic struggle of epic proportions [To tie his laces? Ermintrude] No! Me against Power Mad feminist poet-cum-child psychiatrist Cruella de Thunderthighs! [God he’s pathetic! Ermintrude] She sent me a letter thingy through the machine (an E-mail, dipstick. EdZ) in which she suggested that I might care to sign myself into some Loony Bin, for ‘ re-education’! MOI! Apparently reading my blog took her into a ‘dark, labyrinthine miasma of male chauvinism and self pity’ which she thought she had left behind when she ate her last husband. [Divorced him, actually. Ermintrude] Yeh; but I bet she ate his wallet, poor bugger. She went on to describe my reflections, which I share with my avid and discerning readership, (All three of them. EdZ) as ‘a puerile exercise in breast-fixation’. But I always thought that ‘breast-fixation‘ involved arranging the bra so the unruly hooters stayed put while dancing. [Your dead. Again. Ermintrude] (She’s gonna kill him for sure this time. EdZ) Rubbish! Having just delivered such a crusher, she will, like so many of her species, ‘Crumpetta Idiotica’, no doubt retreat into a box of Dairy Milk while listening to some Leonard Cohen records. [There are no such things as ‘records’ anymore, you hopeless bastard. Ermintrude] (Except criminal ones. EdZ) Moving on.

Size Matters

Or should that be, ‘thighs matters’? [Get on with it! Ermintrude] Where was I.(The Accident and Emergency Department of the nearest hospital, if you’re not careful. EdZ) You see; us blokes, we’ve got bigger ones. [If he mentions Freud, I’ll kill him! Ermintrude] No, you foolish, twisted child; I’m not talking about ‘penis envy’, although, now you mention it, (WARNING: the rest of this passage has been removed by The Orgasm Police; in contravention of Section 69c of The Cruelty to Blondes Act, 2010; as amended by The Brunette Discrimination Act 2013). Humbug! Besides, what I was talking about was the size of our brains; blokes have bigger ones; so ya, boo, sucks! (Yes, but it’s what you don’t do with the added size that’s really worrying. EdZ) Oh yeah? So name just one female philosopher; apart from Jordan. (Lemme me at him! Ermintrude] Or one female inventor, apart from Shirley Temple. (Who? EdZ) Sigh. The famous child actress; didn’t she invent curling-tongs? [Trouble is; he’s serious. Ermintrude] (What about Cleopatra or Boudica? EdZ) Bah! Chicks with a her-moan deficiency, that’s all. Indeed I seem to recall that Boadacea, not ‘Boo-Dick-a’, only ever went on the rampage once a month… Geddit? [What you’re about to get is marmalized! Ermintrude] (With a cheese grater and a very hot waffle iron. EdZ) Eeeek!

The Proof is in the Pudding

So, my charming, if morbidly stupid, poetess-cum-mud-wrestler or whatever, whilst you are licking your wounds in your perfumed bath of atur of roses and kerosene, might I suggest you reflect on the pearls of wisdom contained in my reply poem; a combination of Homer, Virgil and Einstein ‘Watch With Mother’. Hrumphh! I reproduce herewith the entire oeuvre. Thank you, fans.

‘Femme Foetal’

It’s really not your fault that you can’t understand big words,

‘Intelligence’ for you, I fear, is strictly for the birds,

Philosophy is something all of you need to avoid,

Might I suggest a quick flick through the works of Sigmund Freud?

Nominated for The Edinburgh Fringe, ‘Longest Rhyming Suicide Note’. Eh?

Orpheus in his Underpants

That is not the heading I put in! [Correct. Ermintrude] You can’t just change things when you want to! (Really? How many times have you ‘changed’ you wives and/or partners? EdZ) That was different! [Self-preservation as well as self-respect on their part, more like. Erminrude] But the poem; brilliant or what? (‘Or what’. EdZ) [And the scansion is pish. Ermintrude] Jealousy will get you nowhere. (Your poetry will get you a boot in the balls. EdZ) Rubbish! [At least he admits it. Ermintrude] You’re deliberately misunderstanding me! Just like my wives! And some of my partners. [Whadda ya mean, ‘some’? Ermintrude] It’s almost iambic pentameter! [No. That’s what you’re going to get rammed up your arse. Ermintrude] Eh? I feel another poem coming on. [Just make sure it rhymes with ‘castration’. Ermintrude] (And ‘blunt matchstick’. Edz) Eeeek!

John J McCabe. Copyright.

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