why, thank you officers

“It all start­ed with my Un­cle Derek. He was a Sergeant in the Met. He bought me a po­lice ped­al car when I was five. I rode around in it every sec­ond I was awake – ar­rest­ing kids twice my size for lit­ter­ing and spit­ting. I got beat­en up a lot when I was young, but it did­n’t stop me. I want­ed to be like Un­cle Derek.”

“He sounds like a good bloke.”

“Ac­tu­al­ly, he was ar­rest­ed for sell­ing drugs to stu­dents.”

“What a cunt.”
 

Based on all the re­ac­tions I’ve seen to Saman­tha Bee, I had no idea so many peo­ple want­ed to pro­tect lit­tle ol’ me from be­ing called a cunt. How chival­rous!

It will mean so much not to be called that or even have to suf­fer ex­po­sure to that word ever again af­ter all my re­pro­duc­tive and le­gal rights have been sys­tem­at­i­cal­ly stripped away one by one. At least I’ll have the com­fort of know­ing ran­dom peo­ple ar­gued a lot on the in­ter­net about whether or not any­one should ever use that word.

“Who­ev­er you are, I have al­ways de­pend­ed on the kind­ness of strangers!”
 

—emi­ly duchaine

Flom­mist Emi­ly Duchaine lives in the Pa­cif­ic North­west. She likes to drink mead, learn about sharks, and lis­ten to the Talk­ing Heads. She pre­tends to be a pro­fes­sion­al busi­ness­woman most days. Copy­right © 2018 Emi­ly Duchaine.

MOR D’ARTÍCULOS  MOR FLOMM !

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