Dear Councillor Trent,
I email you this afternoon to offer advice I believe will be fundamental to your future sense of self-satisfaction.
You are an angry woman, Ms. Trent. An angry woman. If there’s anything that upsets me in this world, it is a woman getting her knickers in a twist. Knickers should not be twisted. They should be well laundered with softening agent and then sit comfortably twixt buttocks. I have not laid eyes on your undergarments, but I suspect them to resemble a lasso. Take a chill pill, Councillor Trent. Look into flower arranging courses and perhaps setting up a book club so that you and your girlfriends may while away the afternoon hours discussing intellectually challenging tomes such as Jeffrey Archer’s ‘Twelve Red Herrings: A Short Story Collection.’
You remind me of a fat boy I once knew as a child. Dominic was always angry. Probably because he was fat, but probably also because my chums and I bullied him extensively. “Piggy in the middle” often descended into encircling the boy and re-enacting the stoning of Magdalene, though in this instance there was no Messianic figure to urge exculpation. “Trollop! Strumpet!”, we would cry as we cavorted around him, before arguing over who should have the honour of casting the first stone. As a lady trying to be a politician, you would admire my deceitful flair. I would suggest we all throw our rocks on the count of three. “One! Two! Th…” Two and a half was my cue. Wallop! My rock would fly straight and true into the back of Dominic’s big fat skull. He would invariably crash to the dirt, causing the majority of the following missiles to fly wide of their mark. Were you a politician of any real note, you would understand that a statesman’s skill lies not only in initial deception, but in repetitively misleading one’s constituents – each time convincing them that ‘this time will be different’. So it was that I would always end up nutting Dominic first, while at the same time maintaining a veil of democracy over proceedings.
Sadly, Dominic met his maker on the business end of an articulated lorry. My pal Rupert decided he would throw a Bar One across the freeway. Sure enough, Dominic was after it like a springbok with elephant’s ankles. Afterwards, the truck driver said he’d hit donkeys in the past who hadn’t pranged his radiator to half the extent ol’ Dom had managed.
So you see, Ms. Trent; it doesn’t do to be angry all the time. Why don’t you leave it to the men to fight the good fight against our knuckle dragging, spear waving cousins? Why don’t you spend more time pampering yourself at the salon or keeping a good home? Surely your chicken casserole is not of such hallowed standards that it cannot be improved? Politics is a complicated old business, requiring emotional equilibrium and a finely pressed pair of suit trousers; neither of which a woman is in ownership of.
I do hope you take this email in the spirit in which it is intended; not to belittle you, but rather to empower you to be the best you can be in your correct position in society. A football team janitor is not there to bask in glory and celebrate flamboyantly on the football field. He is there to clean the locker rooms and pick up rubbish so that the real heroes may go about their business in unimpeded high spirits.
There’s a girl.
Yours in manhood,
R. Dagless (MD)
Alan Straton
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Dear R. Dagless (MD)
Although I find your writing quite amusing, would just like to find out what exactly this angry lady did to you?
Pray do tell what this woman did to you!
Dear fanbase,
This is the problem with society today – everyone is so preoccupied with being nice.
Q: What has this woman done to me?
A: Nothing.
Q: Does the previous question bear any relevance to my email?
A: No.
Q: Why am I being horrible to people?
A: Because I want to.
Q: Do you cleanse your soul regularly with exfoliating prayers and confession?
A: No, and yes. I love confession. Not for the whole telling the priest my worldly sins, but more for the exciting cloak and dagger buzz I get from crouching in a shady little box with an old, supposedly wise man dressed like he belongs in the Matrix. Usually we end up chatting about our concern at the rising threat homosexuality poses to society, or whether we approve of Brad Pitt’s new facial hair.
Your correspondence means a lot to me. If it weren’t for you guys, I don’t know what I’d think about whilst getting the job done with my spouse.
🙂
You sound a lot like Dr House, same type of personality – callous and yet rather amusing…
I need a Dr for my house – can you help?
Bullies are people who do not like themselves.
Bullies are still people! Come here and say that…and I’ll have your lunch money while you’re at it
I don’t know whether to feel grateful or intimidated to up my game now that you are now reading MyPE, Jean. I will go with grateful and smug in the knowledge that MyPE must be doing something right. Thank you.
On the question of Elizabeth Trent I will leave Legless to defend his/herself. Although Dagless does appear to have a brain.
My wife, my muse, my other far better half will be inclined to disagree with you on the use of the word Longhair which is reserved exclusively for the two women in my life – my wife and daughter. The look of pride on my daughter’s face whenever she reads about the Apprentice Longhair is too sweet for words.
Lest you question my wife’s struggle credentials let me make it quite clear that when she graduated (before 1990) she was quite determined to only work for a trade union in order to right the imbalances of the past. That she was discriminated against and refused entry is fodder that is best left alone.
Jean, Jean, Jean.
Don’t take your unhappiness out on me just because you can’t admit that you are a lesbian.
I take issue with your use of the word ‘sexism’? This is an absolute misuse of a great, great word – it’s amazing how putting three letters on the end of such a noble word can corrupt to such an extent. I have been writing to the Oxford English Dictionary for many years in relation to this issue, but have been very disappointed at their response.
I don’t understand women using the word ‘sexism’. Could you imagine my dog turning around to me one day and saying “Actually Rick, I find your leashing of me rather demeaning.”? Preposterous!
Go away Jean. Go far away. And put your apron back on.
Kisses,
Ricky.
Predictable Dagless, predictable. Unhappy ? Not me, living in the greatest cultural city in the
world ! (6000 miles from PE – is that far enough for you ?) Nor am I a lesbian – just the sort of desperately cliched response I might have expected. However, when you let the “longhairs” out of their cave so that they can walk barefoot, three steps behind you, just remind them to take their aprons off first.
Kisses ? Not on your Nellie.
Is it perhaps desperately cliched because everyone keeps saying it to you?
I would recommend taking the hint.
I contest your declaration that London is the greatest cultural city in the world. I lived in Kensington, just off the High Street, for some years. On the High Street there is a number of incredible ethnic restaurants, ranging from Lebanese to Polish to Pakistani..
In Port Elizabeth we have Somali stink holes that toss tripe onto the pavement in poorly-tied black bags. Touche.
I take everything I said about you back. I am sure you are a highly skilled working woman, who is busy bringing the title ‘receptionist’ to new heights.
Looks like Rick has been nominated for the Wooden Spoon award – well done Rick! I unfortunately won’t get my ovaries knotted, but shall take your tongue and cheek in the spirit in which I hope that it is meant. I enjoy your eloquence, keep up the good writing.
Quite how people are offended by the sexism in this beautifully written letter I do not know. My question is the description of another part of the population of Port Elizabeth. I am new to MyPE and I shall certainly be reading more now I have come across Dagless.
It is fantastic to see peoples reactions to the sexism, but referring to “a fight against our knuckle dragging, spear waving cousins” does not raise so much of a tiny comment of disgust.
I am black Mr Dagless, and I resent your comments. I am well educated in Motherwell where I feel the schools are the best in the country. I can pick a lock in seconds, I know where to jump over walls to avoid razor wire, I can smash windows without making a sound. If I am not well educated Mr Dagless, how do you explain the above?! We have moved on from our spear waving and can now actually throw them at things and make fire. I am unable to swim. I like copper – it’s shiny (now I am sounding like a woman).
I put a Bantu spell on you Dagless
Well done Osei. While you’re at it, put a double strength spell on Dagless for me.
Good point Osei.
I am descended from male persons who used to wear dresses (some still do), paint their faces in fantastical colours, engage in knuckle dragging forms of sport and wave their bottoms at the enemy. Then they would drink a concoction made from fermented barley, toss it back after eating the darkest innards of some poor unfortunate animal before charging barefooted across thorn strewn contested ground dragging their knuckles and waving spears ………
I too am offended Legless – pray tell just who you are referring to before I cast a spell of continuous drunkenness upon your very soul (or lack thereof).
See you at Monde’s Braai shop later, Osei!
Bring meat.
Lest I offend your thin-skinned readers further, Strapon, I shall not comment on my sexism, racism, ignorance or nigh-permanent drunkenness any further.
What I will comment on is your thinly-veiled invitation for male intimacy to Osei.
“Bring meat”
I thought your were for me, Strapon…
Sorry Alan, I am in NU8. I hate leaving my car (despite only having the chassis left to play with). Anyway, I’m washing my hair tonight….and now I have a headache
Such a shame you can no longer read The Herald! It is so informative and well written. You can really tell the articles have been thoroughly researched…
Not – we refuse to purchase the local English papers. So tired of the spelling errors and same old, same old reporting for example digging up what school you attended has a direct influence on your decision making 10 years down the line – come on!
I used to think about being a Psychologist, and when I thought about it I thought about being a really great Psychologist.
I’m not sure I understand…had you forgotten what school you went to 10 years ago? Why can’t you teach an old dog new tricks Mr J9? Habits are learned at early age, including the way you process information. Habits, by very definition, are hard to break…so in a sense it does infact influence the way you think 10 years down the line. For example, Osei will think differently about certain aspects of his life differently to the way you may.
There are three important aspects of your childhood that influence this:
1) Your parents
2) Your teachers
3) Your peers
The different stages differ through childhood in terms of importance to the individual. At the different stages you try to impress different people and it is this which shapes how you perceive things for the rest of your life unless you can break that habit!
Your own sentence structuring could do with a little review though.
Not a problem, point taken. I don’t however purport to be a Journalist and no-one pays to read my verbage. I shall pay for any GOOD read, but unfortunately shall not pay for the local newspapers which you have mentioned and support.
In this case what I want to know is what school Dagless MD went to so I can be sure I do not send my kids there. I do not want the people that were influencing his life to influence the life of my children. He is clearly a clever individual, but would also seem deeply disturbed…