cute?’
‘Dreamy. He’s intelligent, good-looking . . .’
And just when I was about to launch into a poetic spiel worthy of my newfound crush, Nadia interrupted the flow with, ‘Omigod, I forgot to tell you.’
‘What?’
‘You know Trisha has been acting kinda odd lately?’
‘Like yeah . . . though I thought she just had it in for me.’
‘Listen to this.’
Nadia, on her way into the office, had come to a halt outside the door on hearing raised voices from within. The voices belonging to Fiona and Trisha.
The latter shouting, ‘I can’t take this any more, it’s over.’
The former replying, in words to the effect, ‘One more chance, please, just one more chance?’
‘Fiona, I’ve tried, I . . .’
‘Please, Trisha, don’t go . . . we can talk about it.’
‘I’m sick of talking.’
The door had swung open, revealing an embarrassed Nadia.
‘Oh for fuck’s sake. How long have you been outside?’
Before Nadia could even reply, Trisha had stormed off in the foulest of tempers.
‘Fiona was snivelling into a hanky. I didn’t know what to do.’
‘Christ, do you think those two are together?’
‘It looked like it.’
We both imagined the scenario, then in unison squealed like a pair of school-girls, ‘Gross.’
Trisha and Fiona – who’d have thought? I’d always suspected Trisha was a lesbian but Fiona was an in-betweener.
‘I wonder how long it’s been going on.’
‘It could be ages.’
‘Fiona could even be the father of Trisha’s children.’
‘Do you think?’
‘Possible.’
‘Scary.’
I know some women get a kick out of emasculating their men, but to have him change sex? The lengths people go in the name of love – it never ceases to amaze. Take Mrs Dodd, for
example.
TOO GOOD TO BE TRUE
Once upon a time, though not so long ago, a woman called Betty decided to test the love of her husband. At the age of twenty-one, Betty had married her childhood sweetheart, a
lorry driver called Ron, who was faithful to her in every way. Rarely did they fight and, if they did, they made up almost immediately. He was kind, considerate, respectful, a loving husband and
good father to their three children.
Together they led a charmed life. Betty had little to worry about. However, when her youngest started primary school, Betty found herself with time on her hands. Too keep herself busy, she took
up gardening.
One day, when she was tending her herbaceous border, her neighbour, a bitter, twisted woman called Vera, popped her head over the garden fence and upon exchanging a few words, offered Betty a
packet of fast-growing seeds called Doubtus Insecuritus. In truth, she poisoned Betty’s simple mind with ill thoughts of falsehoods and deceit.
‘A lorry driver! Well, you’re a brave woman,’ sneered Vera.
‘How so?’ replied the naive Betty.
‘Away from home every other night – who knows where he may be parking his lorry.’
Vera qualified her statement with outlandish tales of dastardly philandering truck drivers and loose women.
To make matters worse Vera called by the next morning with disturbing news. A curvaceous and licentious woman had moved into the house three doors down from her. A woman with red hair and four
children born of four different fathers.
‘You’d want to watch her,’ warned Vera. ‘Reeks of trouble.’
Not three weeks had passed when Betty, on her way home from the butcher’s, noticed her husband’s lorry parked outside their house.
‘Strange he should be home so early,’ she pondered, but she was happy nonetheless and imagined how they could spend the afternoon together.
However, her joy was shortlived when she caught sight of him strolling out of their new neighbour’s house, carrying his tool box.
‘What, in the name of God, have you been up to?’ Betty demanded.
‘Just helping out our new neighbour,’ explained Ron matter-of-factly.
‘Doing what exactly?’ demanded Betty.
‘The woman had a flood on her
‘Dreamy. He’s intelligent, good-looking . . .’
And just when I was about to launch into a poetic spiel worthy of my newfound crush, Nadia interrupted the flow with, ‘Omigod, I forgot to tell you.’
‘What?’
‘You know Trisha has been acting kinda odd lately?’
‘Like yeah . . . though I thought she just had it in for me.’
‘Listen to this.’
Nadia, on her way into the office, had come to a halt outside the door on hearing raised voices from within. The voices belonging to Fiona and Trisha.
The latter shouting, ‘I can’t take this any more, it’s over.’
The former replying, in words to the effect, ‘One more chance, please, just one more chance?’
‘Fiona, I’ve tried, I . . .’
‘Please, Trisha, don’t go . . . we can talk about it.’
‘I’m sick of talking.’
The door had swung open, revealing an embarrassed Nadia.
‘Oh for fuck’s sake. How long have you been outside?’
Before Nadia could even reply, Trisha had stormed off in the foulest of tempers.
‘Fiona was snivelling into a hanky. I didn’t know what to do.’
‘Christ, do you think those two are together?’
‘It looked like it.’
We both imagined the scenario, then in unison squealed like a pair of school-girls, ‘Gross.’
Trisha and Fiona – who’d have thought? I’d always suspected Trisha was a lesbian but Fiona was an in-betweener.
‘I wonder how long it’s been going on.’
‘It could be ages.’
‘Fiona could even be the father of Trisha’s children.’
‘Do you think?’
‘Possible.’
‘Scary.’
I know some women get a kick out of emasculating their men, but to have him change sex? The lengths people go in the name of love – it never ceases to amaze. Take Mrs Dodd, for
example.
TOO GOOD TO BE TRUE
Once upon a time, though not so long ago, a woman called Betty decided to test the love of her husband. At the age of twenty-one, Betty had married her childhood sweetheart, a
lorry driver called Ron, who was faithful to her in every way. Rarely did they fight and, if they did, they made up almost immediately. He was kind, considerate, respectful, a loving husband and
good father to their three children.
Together they led a charmed life. Betty had little to worry about. However, when her youngest started primary school, Betty found herself with time on her hands. Too keep herself busy, she took
up gardening.
One day, when she was tending her herbaceous border, her neighbour, a bitter, twisted woman called Vera, popped her head over the garden fence and upon exchanging a few words, offered Betty a
packet of fast-growing seeds called Doubtus Insecuritus. In truth, she poisoned Betty’s simple mind with ill thoughts of falsehoods and deceit.
‘A lorry driver! Well, you’re a brave woman,’ sneered Vera.
‘How so?’ replied the naive Betty.
‘Away from home every other night – who knows where he may be parking his lorry.’
Vera qualified her statement with outlandish tales of dastardly philandering truck drivers and loose women.
To make matters worse Vera called by the next morning with disturbing news. A curvaceous and licentious woman had moved into the house three doors down from her. A woman with red hair and four
children born of four different fathers.
‘You’d want to watch her,’ warned Vera. ‘Reeks of trouble.’
Not three weeks had passed when Betty, on her way home from the butcher’s, noticed her husband’s lorry parked outside their house.
‘Strange he should be home so early,’ she pondered, but she was happy nonetheless and imagined how they could spend the afternoon together.
However, her joy was shortlived when she caught sight of him strolling out of their new neighbour’s house, carrying his tool box.
‘What, in the name of God, have you been up to?’ Betty demanded.
‘Just helping out our new neighbour,’ explained Ron matter-of-factly.
‘Doing what exactly?’ demanded Betty.
‘The woman had a flood on her
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