The new brutal woman..!
Robert Clements
Tuesday, January 25, 2011 - As details of Indian diplomat Anil Verma slapping his wife in London gets murkier, I met my imaginary friend P.K. Bole.
We had not met for quite some time and he was at the bus stop as I waited to catch my bus to work. I told him about the diplomat’s wife beating habits “It is allowed!” he assured me smugly to my own shock. “Our great masculine culture allows reasonable and adequate causes for slapping your wife. First you must prove you were provoked by her; for example if she interrupts you with a wise answer while you are arguing with her, or attempts to show she is intellectually superior, while you are talking like a fool, then you have the right!”
“What about nagging?” I asked. “Depending what she is nagging you about,” said P.K. Bole wisely, “If it is about the fifth glass of whisky you want to drink, or the last game of cards you want to play or opening your sons piggy bank and spending it on your secretary, then it is allowed.” “What if dinner is tasteless or if she is a lousy cook?” I asked. “That goes under husband cruelty,” said P.K. “you can even go up to two slaps for that!” “It should,” said P.K. Bole. I noticed that most of the men in the bus line had become interested in Bole’s talk and a little man in front with a voice that went from shrill to shriek suddenly joined in, “I slapped my wife today,” he said.
“Excellent,” said P.K. Bole. “Obviously she provoked you?” “Actually I tried to hit my son,” squealed the little man, “but he ducked and my wife standing behind got the blow. I have been waiting to do this for years!’ There was a sudden commotion and a huge strapping woman came running into the line with a rolling pin. “Take this and this and this,” she cried as she hit the little man, “and are these your friends? Take this you idiots,” she yelled as P.K got a blow to his head and I on my elbow.
P.K. Bole, the little man and I stood unsteadily at the bus top wiping the blood from our wounds. “You didn’t tell me about this?” I wept, “That women would hit back?” “Hit back!” whispered P.K. Bole, “I think there’s a mighty revolution on; not only have they started hitting back but they’ve started drawing blood!” “But all those rules you were talking about?” I asked.
“Are obsolete, let’s get out of here before Anil Verma’s wife also gives us a beating! This is the new brutal woman we are seeing, who has had enough of our male chauvinistic ways..!
—Email:bobsbanter@gmail.com
We had not met for quite some time and he was at the bus stop as I waited to catch my bus to work. I told him about the diplomat’s wife beating habits “It is allowed!” he assured me smugly to my own shock. “Our great masculine culture allows reasonable and adequate causes for slapping your wife. First you must prove you were provoked by her; for example if she interrupts you with a wise answer while you are arguing with her, or attempts to show she is intellectually superior, while you are talking like a fool, then you have the right!”
“What about nagging?” I asked. “Depending what she is nagging you about,” said P.K. Bole wisely, “If it is about the fifth glass of whisky you want to drink, or the last game of cards you want to play or opening your sons piggy bank and spending it on your secretary, then it is allowed.” “What if dinner is tasteless or if she is a lousy cook?” I asked. “That goes under husband cruelty,” said P.K. “you can even go up to two slaps for that!” “It should,” said P.K. Bole. I noticed that most of the men in the bus line had become interested in Bole’s talk and a little man in front with a voice that went from shrill to shriek suddenly joined in, “I slapped my wife today,” he said.
“Excellent,” said P.K. Bole. “Obviously she provoked you?” “Actually I tried to hit my son,” squealed the little man, “but he ducked and my wife standing behind got the blow. I have been waiting to do this for years!’ There was a sudden commotion and a huge strapping woman came running into the line with a rolling pin. “Take this and this and this,” she cried as she hit the little man, “and are these your friends? Take this you idiots,” she yelled as P.K got a blow to his head and I on my elbow.
P.K. Bole, the little man and I stood unsteadily at the bus top wiping the blood from our wounds. “You didn’t tell me about this?” I wept, “That women would hit back?” “Hit back!” whispered P.K. Bole, “I think there’s a mighty revolution on; not only have they started hitting back but they’ve started drawing blood!” “But all those rules you were talking about?” I asked.
“Are obsolete, let’s get out of here before Anil Verma’s wife also gives us a beating! This is the new brutal woman we are seeing, who has had enough of our male chauvinistic ways..!
—Email:bobsbanter@gmail.com
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