Burnt sausage

No words of condemnation are strong enough for the Russian woman who set fire to her ex-husband’s penis. The couple had been forced to share an apartment, in spite of their divorce, because of the housing shortage in Moscow. When people are packed liked sardines into too few dwellings, it’s inevitable that penises will burn. Tragedies like this will go on occurring until the reactionary forces impeding the construction industry are crushed like satsumas. As an investor in the sector, I have offered my services to any house-building consortium facing obstruction from pointy-headed bureaucrats or selfish residents. They don’t call me Bulldozer Bananas for nothing.

This certainly does not excuse the woman’s stunt in any way. Cock-arson is a serious crime no matter how cramped the living conditions. She claims that her ex-husband was a philanderer and patron of pornography. Maybe he was, but isn’t that why she divorced him? Once a marriage has been dissolved, the wife has sold her stock in Johnson Enterprises and has no say in the use of its drilling equipment. You cannot torch a penis like a medieval heretic simply because it’s having too much fun – that sort of discredited argument was used to convict women on trumped-up charges of witchcraft. I hope the Russian judges will ignore her lame excuses and throw her in the slammer. Let her confront her inner demons by frying hot-dogs in the prison kitchen.

I’m sure the feminist movement won’t make a cause célèbre of this hot-fingered harridan. They’d be better advised to refute impertinent suggestions that her behaviour was inspired by “penis envy”. I remember Smacker Ramrod, the circus vet, getting told off by a well-spoken lady for suggesting that lesbians might be jealous of a man’s manhood.

“Penis envy is a Freudian myth, Mr Ramrod!” she declared. “If anything, it is you men who envy our wombs and our ability to bear children. It wouldn’t surprise me if you also envied the clitoris and our capacity for multiple orgasms.”

“Clitoris envy!” exclaimed Smacker. “It’s hard enough to find the ruddy thing let alone be envious of it!”

I should add that this conversation took place in the 1980s, before most men knew where a lady’s love button was located. The woman offered to send him a manual with diagrams. I believe that modern girls pierce it with a ring to make it easier to find.

Yet in the final analysis these anatomical questions matter little. Even if a woman’s clitoris were the same size as a penis (as is the case for female hyenas), this would not bring about harmony between the sexes. Any gorilla can see that the root cause of the marital malaise is disappointed expectations. A wife wants her husband to be her knight in shining armour, utterly devoted to her happiness, utterly immune to temptation. The problem is not that no men are capable of this. Quite a few are, as a matter of fact, which leaves women stuck with a typical Joe Jockstrap (or worse) feeling terribly let down.

It would surely be much easier for women if all men truly were selfish pigs who neglected their spouses and exploited every opportunity to chase available skirt. At least they’d know what to expect and could evaluate their suitors purely as breeding stock. The worst feeling for a housewife is knowing that she‘s lumbered with a lemon which she can’t return to the store.

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