EMMELINE WANKHURST

And now my esteemed and assembled guests

It’s time i divulge my odd bequest

It seems that the mantle has fallen to me,

to proffer a lesson in herstory.

You’ll notice I replaced the masculine ‘his’

But before you get yourselves all in a tis

I’m not here as some hirsute, blue stockinged defender

of the inferior, weak- minded  gender!

Oh no! society suffers from no greater schism

Than the one inflicted by feminism.

I mean what is the purpose of these foul mouthed virgins

With  wild unkempt bushes and faces like sturgeons?

Over the last 100 years,

These horsefaced ‘lesbian’ pioneers

have been the scourge of ev’ry community,

prowling their growlers with total impunity!

It seems that the more depraved and sordid

These spinsters become they are rewarded!

Just once I’d like to sit down on the tube,

Without getting an eyeful of some girls side boob,                

Or worse yet, I’d love to go for a swim,

Without getting a gobful of some lezzers quim.

But excuse me, I know ,I am veering off topic,

It’s enough to make anyone feel misanthropic.

So lets return ourselves now, back to the story,

back to an a epoch when girls weren’t so whorey.

Let’s journey to London, 1883,                                                    

(A big year for all things masturbatory,)

But we’ll get to that later, first, we shall meet,

Mrs Millicent Smythe of 10 swallow street

Ensconced in her knitting in her handsome front room,

In a thick sweet miasma of floral perfume.

Milli is a woman who embodies duty,

Who makes up with breeding what she lacks in beauty.

But we can forgive her pockered slack skin

The grey pubic tufts that sprout from her chin

For at her ripe age of 33,

Mili Smythe understands what a wifes s’posed to be.

She passes her days at her needle and thread,         

And always heeds what her husband has said.

And after their monthly game of wist,

When the dreaded time came for their marital tryst,

She made sure to court his groinal expulsion,

With just the right air of wifely revulsion.

Though once or twice lately, during the act,

She’d felt queer heat in her urinary tract.

A most unusual inclement stirring              

A bit like the hum of a pussycats purring.

And these unexpected moist emissions,

had sent her seeking out physicians

which is where we find her this afternoon,

consulting with one doctor spoon

A decidedly gay, eccentric gent,

Most likely due to his german dissent.

‘Zo fraulein’ rasped the deutsch clinician,