30 serving witches. The manager of the safari camp was less than impressed when I told him.
“They must be working in a catering unit, making soups and potions,” he said. “You can’t put women up against the Taliban.”
“Nonsense!” I exclaimed. “They would make mincemeat of the Taliban! Witch combat has come a long way since the days of the Roman Empire, when they charged into battle naked with their tits painted blue. I’ve met some of these English witches and they impressed me hugely with their supple-bodied cunning.”
The manager then called me “a silly hairy feminist” and went off to the local market to buy his wife slippers and toiletries – a man clearly chafing under a petticoat administration.
The issue of women serving in the armed forces has been close to my heart ever since I saw the film Private Benjamin. Does anyone remember it? Cute little Goldie Hawn joins the US Army after being widowed on her wedding night. She then proves all her critics wrong by mastering the art of soldiering and making an ass of her dykey commanding officer.
The most fascinating part of the movie occurs when she is posted to Europe and acquires a French lover.
“Now I know what I’ve been faking all these years,” she says after being expertly serviced by Henri de Cockville.
But the relationship is doomed because de Cockville is a philanderer who plays rugby and belongs to the Communist Party. Imagine having your first orgasm with such a rogue! She must have felt quite dirty afterwards.
Anyway, the film convinced me that women were fully capable of serving bravely on the battlefield. If a Jewish American Princess can do it, so can Betty Boop. Witches have the added advantage of being able to hex the enemy before getting into close combat.
I was briefly a member of the Communist Party myself, back in my circus days. They made me take lessons in Marxist theory as part of my induction, which is when I got expelled for “reactionary and bourgeois attitudes”. I then got added to their list of enemies, which made me somewhat uncomfortable.
Fortunately, the revolution never came to England and I breathed a little easier when the Berlin Wall came down in ’89. I still get nervous when anything happens that might presage the fall of Capitalism, which is why I’ve been reading the Wall Street Journal during the recent financial crisis. You may think I’m safe in the Congo, but these buggers are ruthless. Look what they did to Trotsky.
A few months ago, I was worried that a tourist on safari might be a red assassin. He was a shifty looking fellow with greasy hair and a moustache. I walked right up to him and looked him in the eye.
“Are you or have you ever been a member of the Communist Party?” I asked.
“Are you or have you?” he replied, returning my stare.
Damn sneaky of him to answer a question with a question, particularly as my honest answer would have been “yes”. But it turned out the man was a Scientologist rather than a Communist. Not as dangerous but equally barmy.
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