This action might not be possible to undo. Are you sure you want to continue?
You know, the place where you can brag about anything…almost anything. Hyde Park, very close to Oxford street – that is where you can many idiosyncratic individuals speaking out THE TRUTH. I am wearing some kind of vintage…coat I believe…I stand in the middle of the speaker’s corner and yell: ‘’STOP THE SUFFRAGETTES, FOR THEY ARE BIASED!’’ Accent adjustment? Check. I do realise that languages change over time but I do hope my message is going to be clear. It seems that my message has been heard. Loud and clear. A group of young women gather around me. Their faces…such derision. Such contempt. I look at them and smile gently. ‘’Ladies…’’ ‘’Sir’’ one of them takes initiative, her tone anything but pleasant. ‘’Why aren’t you fighting for king and country? You are a healthy young man!’’ ‘’Yes!’’ another young lady almost shouts at me. ‘’Shame on you, young man!’’
‘’Forgive me’’ I hang my head in shame. I smile and calmly respond ‘’Thank you for this unique gift’’ and quickly add with a verve ‘’This is very humiliating and I shall enroll at once!’’ The ladies smile.’’ I realise that my memetic field has trained me to respond accordingly. ‘’They are waiting for me.’’ . please’’ I point to a region somewhere deep inside the park. I wish to respond in kind…for they are so kind. Such delightful beings. however … I do have a suggestion?’’ They turn around and look at me in bewilderment. They agree to follow me without a glimmer of hesitation. ‘’If I may. saying ‘’This is what happens to cowards. So innocent and so sweet.One of the ladies approaches me and hands me a white feather. I know of a place where many healthy men are hiding!’’ The ladies are simply ecstatic. ‘’Would you please follow me. ‘’Come.
there is no need’’ I respond. ‘’Has your journey been a pleasant one?’’ I ask them. ‘’Oh. I appreciate fine summer weather akin to a connoisseur. nothing’’ my response is filled with joviality. ‘’Right here. ‘’We shall shame so many men today!’’ We keep walking. ‘’T minus thirty …’’ Thirty seconds pass. Young ladies appear again. . Ten minutes. ‘’Please explain this action to us!’’ I hear. Five minutes. ‘’What’s so funny!?’’ one of the women detects my facetious tone.‘’How wonderful!’’ one of the women exclaims. ‘’Ah. One is bleeding. ladies’’ I point to a bench in front of me and smile. followed by a cavalcade of stereotypically feminine gestures. This time a little dirtier. ‘’Wha…’’ ZAP. I sit on the bench. bowing slightly. Countdown begins. a little shocked.
sweeties. don’t be sorry my dears’’ I comfort the ladies verbally. ‘’You are now ready to call yourselves true feminists. Do they know? Already? ‘’Oh. leaving the ladies to fight their own PTSDs. I have got you all figured out before you even become sentient.’’ I am gone in the blink of an eye. You appreciate the burden of war…you are truly a sui generis case. hoping that tacit meaning is conveyed as well. the ladies discover a slip of paper with ‘’DECAMERON’’ written on it. . Once their catatonia has subsided.‘’We are so sorry for…’’ their response staggers me. ladies! I am sure you will never play the white feather game again.