The four women are sitting together in a posh London flat, pouring
cups of tea for each other as they speak.
Jane: Those were the days. Crazed fans and screaming groupies
bombarding the stage in flurries of acrobatic activity. Slim fitting,
brightly coloured geometrical garments. Over-the-knee boots.
Cynthia: Well yes, but we have all been deeply wounded by women, as
they have been deeply wounded by men.
Patti: Men. Who needs them? Men are like….. Lava lamps. Sweet,
smooth, and they usually head right for your hips.
Jane: I think men are like… mascara.
Patti: Really? Why?
Jane: After getting laid, they take a long time to get hard. They
only show up when there’s food on the table. They’re always in hot
water, and they need dough.
Maureen: Ringo was… a short man.
Maureen: well, he had…”Little Man syndrome.” You know: what was
originally called the “Napoleon complex”. It is a term used in
referring to people who are short in stature with a complex regarding
that stature. It also refers to people who are very competitive due to
height constraints. One Dictionary describes it thus: An angry male of
below the average height who feels it necessary to act out in an
attempt to gain respect and recognition from others to compensate for
his abnormally short stature.
Jane: But Ringo didn’t seem so angry!
Maureen: Well, he mainly took it out on the skins. But you know, the
aggressive behavior he sometimes displayed was possibly a reaction to
repeated discrimination about his height in the school, workplace or
rejection by women because of his height. If the same behavior was
adopted by a tall guy, no one would notice. His height probably
developed into an “inferiority complex”. The “short person” always
assumes rightly or wrongly, that he is being pushed about by taller
men, pushed to the point of explosive aggression toward his
antagonist, this reaction can amuse the tall aggressor who keeps up
his taunts believing the short person incapable of retaliation.
Patti: Both Eric and George were pretty tall. I never had that
problem. There were other issues. I mean, they used to pluck me,
strum me, hold me horizontally. Really kinky, actually.
Maureen: Well, whatever the reason for the small person’s aggression,
it is a real problem in society and causes a lot of stress to that
Jane: But not if they are women.
Cynthia: Right: there’s nothing wrong with being a small women. I
mean look, lots of Asian women are small. Asian women are popular with
western men because they are thin, beautiful, and sexy. They have
shrill voices and are good at conceptual art.. But the first and most
obvious reason is the look of an Asian bride. With shiny raven black
hair, lithe and slender figures, and very appealing eyes, who would
not be attracted to them? Their looks exude mystery and an exotic
appeal that most western males cannot resist. Sexy Asian girls look so
fragile and so delicate that most white men from America and Europe
and even other foreign men want to be their protector and knight in
shining armor. Asian women’s looks just bring out their masculinity.
Jane: Masculinity. HUMPH! What a waste of time. I think men are
Jane: Fun to look at, but not all that bright. They always tell you
what to do and are usually wrong. They take so long to mature.
Cynthia: Wank rags!
Jane: Wastes of space!
Maureen: Wastes of sperm! For men know they shall be punished and
ostracized, blamed and shamed; they fear losing their mothers. They
fear being abandoned if they see women’s shadow and hold up a mirror.
Men fear losing our emotional umbilicals, and they do not know, deep
in their hearts, that they can feed themselves.
Patti: Rare is the man who will stand and vent his justified anger at
women; rarer still is a man who will confront women with his righteous
rage. The few who do so around our sacred circles touch a raw nerve
and release a basso-profundo growl that fades, forgotten and ignored,
yet still resonates below the threshold of consciousness. Those men
create a nervousness and paranoia, then atavistic conditioning kicks
in. We ignore our mothers, turn to our fathers, and we scream our
challenge to only one of our parents.
Cynthia: Patti, I’ve always wanted to ask you something.
Patti: Be my guest, dearie.
Cynthia: Were they really that different? I mean, could you really
tell them apart?
Patti: Not really. One rock star is pretty much just like another.
They were both… dexterous. Half the time I would just put a paper bag
over their heads and pretend they were the other one anyway. So… what
about John? What was he like in the sack?
Cynthia: He was like… a plunger… or a noodle… I don’t know… but he
had such a short attention span. He pretended he was into me, but
really he only liked Asian chicks. And everyone knows the main reason
that a Western man date or marry an Asian woman is the look. Asian
women have shiny black hair, slim figures, and attractive eyes to
attract many men. You know, some western men are very much interested
with the rich and colourful Asian culture. There are just so many
things to learn and so many interesting people to meet. Sexy girls
from Asia are a part of that culture. I guess I was just too mumsy
for him in the end. Jane… I always thought… there was something
Jane: What do you mean, exactly?
Cynthia: well, I mean, wasn’t he a bit… twee?
Jane: Twee as fuck, really. Always writing about furry little
creatures. He liked the idea of vandalizing things with cute words.
When he was little he swallowed a whistle and it got lodged in his
throat and that produced a mimsy-mumsy sweetness without any kind of
bite. His gender politics weren’t just egalitarian: If anything, they
celebrated the girly and the sweet, the affectedly dainty or quaint.
Twee as fuck, like a cute retro platform game.
Cynthia: And to think he left you for that spotty photographer!
Maureen: Men: humph!
Jane: Faces like bulldogs licking piss off a nettle.
Patti: Faces like slapped arses.
Cynthia: Faces like wet weekends.
Maureen: Faces like dropped pies
Jane: only fancy their family jewels
Patti: farting in their spacesuits
Cynthia: felching, feeding ponies
Maureen: fiddling about with floozies
Jane: doing the five-knuckle shuffle
Patti: folically challenged
Cynthia: well, I don’t give a flying fuck.
Jane: More tea, darling?
Maureen: That would be simply smashing.
(all the women throw their cups and saucers at the nearest wall. they
exit to the sound of shattering.)