It was just over a hundred years ago when the Suffragette Henrietta Bullspizzle chained herself to the railings outside 10 Downing Street clutching a tin of peach slices.
The eyes opened, blinking rapidly, then slower as they grew accustomed to the light level. It was dim. The eyes couldn’t see much, just a ceiling made of metal with a low-powered light in the centre of it.
There were hands, and they could move.
A body. A breast, two breasts and a stomach and lower… the body was female.
There was a mouth too and it smiled.
Female was always good, better than a male.
Still, as the typical British weather is pouring down, it is possibly safe to assume that whatever amount of water constitutes the aforesaid watershed. At least, that amount has already been shed this morning. Therefore we are safe to continue with this promenade through the outer suburbs of what is regarded as both the rude and the naughty with little chance of interruption. Especially any interruption from those who like to think they know what is best for everyone.
There have been some complaints especially by scientists specialising in measurement the definition of the now international standard metric Oh, Bugger has been appropriated by politicians. Consequently with all the inevitable fudging, compromises and blatant electioneering and posturing such a process inevitably entails.
- DeskWriter, present
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