Tuesday, 3 October 2017


Marble Arch is one of the great edifices of London, sublime in its dignity, originally it was the main entrance to Buckingham Palace and you do not get more dignified than that, except when Fergie was resident in the joint, but that is for another time. Let us concentrate on recent events at the site, events which had no resemblance to dignity in any of its forms, in short there was a punch up. Nothing new there, nowadays punchups are as common as bollocks on the streets of our revered capital city. What was the novelty regarding this contretemps was it was not between drunken lads looking for a bit of argy bargy in order to soak up the hours of the night before sobering up, or football yobs taking it out on supporters of the other team. No, the protagonists here were members of the alternative gender, or whatever we are supposed to call the bloody women these days.

To understand the depths of what I am about to write it is necessary to enjoy an understanding of gender politics along with the linguistic arcana accompanying the science. Admittedly I am not in possession of such understanding, therefore why the hell should you? One should always beware of where you go and what you say when you get there, especially in politically correct London, the truth of this nugget of commonsense will soon become apparent. When you may ask? Can’t he just shut up and get on with it? All right, fret ye not dear readership, I am about to spill the beans on the battle of Marble Arch, or if you must be common, dildos at dawn.

This concerns an outfit which staggers under the moniker of Action for trans Health, ATH if you insist on acronyms. The trans bit gives it all away. This is a bunch of lesbians who got into a brawl with another bunch of the Sapphic tendency and started punching seven bells out of each other. Hardly ladylike but there you are, not that one could describe a gaggle of butch dykes as ladies, in fact if you were so intemperate enough to do so you would probably get a knee in the balls. This is what happened. A dame by the name of Tara Filk-Wood, taking umbrage at the stance taken by Maria Maclachlan, gave the said Maria a smack in the gob. What caused the ruckus was a dispute over the vexed question of gender identity, a subject recently unknown but now elevated to the status of national imperative, not that anyone inhabiting the real World has either knowledge nor interest in the subject, after all if you were born with a dick then you were stuck with it for the rest of your natural, ipso facto you were a man. Therein lays the rub so to speak.

These days there is a branch of medicine devoted to cock cropping, a few hours under the knife and all gone, you are now a woman, but it seems that some women do not accept that irrefutable fact. Another group has entered the fray, TERFS, what in God’s name are these you may ask, well I do not know and can not be bothered to find out, suffice it to know that this lot were the other team in the fracas.

There is now a Parliamentary committee investigating the subject, what else would one expect? This is important, the country might be going to buggery and back on a Sunday afternoon, but we must get our priorities right, there are also economic aspect to all this. What would the tourists think when they come here? Expecting to see the glories of Londinium and what they get is a gang of Dykes knocking the bejesus out of each other. After this I would not be surprised if the EU insisted we Brexit and do not waste any time in going, and all because a few hairy arsed lesbos say a dude without a dick can not be a woman. I ask you.

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