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Regular updates of sarcastic and irreverent nonsense.
Hello, my name is Bridget and I am chairwoman of The Female Support Group for Equality of Life for Ladies. I am proud to say that no man, living or otherwise, has ever entered into my thresholds – of that you have my word. Apart from lifting heavy boxes, there is not one thing that a man can do that a female cannot do. Even if there was (like changing a plug or chopping up bits of wood) us females have other skills that are just as useful. Sure, you might be the screwdriver and blowtorch type who can advise me why my car is making that noise, but I can spot, from a mile away, whether someone has taken too many Malteesers from the box when I wasn’t looking. That, my dear penis-owning friends, is a time-honoured skill that only a true female can have. Penis-owners should note that I am not actually your friend, it was just a turn of phrase.
Penis-owners make my life hell as everywhere I look I see the remnants of the penis-dominated world we live in. If I go to the bakery for a baguette, I am reminded of an engorged penis. If I want a bread roll, I am reminded of a shaven swollen testicle. If I want a ring doughnut, then I am reminded of what penis-owners like doing with their penises. Don’t even get me started on the double-cream chocolate éclairs. I am constantly surrounded by penistry architecture. At least if I go to Greece the statue builders made the penises really small, though non-existent would have been better. Whenever I come back from Greece I always want to go around with a chisel and knock off all the penises of the men that pass me in the street.
In the headquarters of The Female Support Group for Equality of Life for Ladies, we have taken great lengths to decorate the interior properly. There are no pictures of men at all. There are no pictures of married women. There are no pictures of single women who are either dating a man or suspected of dating a man and no pictures of any women who have been photographed in public with their father or expressed admiration for their father. Currently, we have pictures of Mother Theresa, Attila the Hun, and myself. Personally, I prefer the pictures of me over the other two but not everyone agrees. Those people are weak and I have my suspicions that they have been in the company of penis-owners recently.
Now, if you will excuse me I need to go to the butchers; they said that they would save the last turkey in the shop for me.