“There’s a war coming,” says John Joe O’Connor, “a battle-of the sexes and it will not stop until every single man is obliterated from existence.”
Lunatic, I think, but I humour him because I find such lunatics fascinating and lunatic company is better than no company.
“Oh yeah?” I say, “and what’s going to bring this on exactly?”
“Hatred of men!” he says, “they’ve realised they don’t need us and are better off without us but they haven’t perfected the science of creating sperm yet, so we’re safe for now, at least,” he says, solemnly, pausing in his speech to take an extended draft of his pint of Guinness.
He continues, “It all started with the Surfragette movement,” he says. “Did you know that whole thing was funded by the Rockefellers?”
I’m totally confused at this point and so I say, “What?”
“That’s right!” he says. “Nobody has a voice in this world without being bankrolled by the powers that be. They wanted to get women out to work so they could tax them and bring their children under the care of the state so they could assimilate them from the time they’re born.”
Madness, I think, but I’ve descended from thinking he’s a lunatic to thinking he’s just mad because there’s part of me that thinks that what he suspects, if not his facts, is plausible.
“They’re afraid of me,” he says, “and the knowledge I possess. They tried to terminate my mother, Sarah, before I was born,” he confides.
This is where I burst out laughing as I think this character has watched one too many Terminator movies and his avocado has slipped out of his avocado and cheese sandwich.
My laughter is reacted to with a somewhat stern, somewhat offended look.
“You’ll know the truth soon enough,” he says, and laughs, “oh for sure you will.”
It’s 4AM and my head is full of the demented ravings of a madman who has watched too many Terminator movies.
Feminators is what you’d call them, I realise, and chortle to myself at my creativity and outstanding wit.
I’m looking forward to clambering into bed with my sweet lady wife.
There’s no risk of her being a Feminator, I think, as I stumble up the stairs to the bedroom like a knight in shining armour home to rescue my woman from her peaceful, and no doubt boring, unless she is dreaming of me, slumber.
But nothing prepares me for the sight I see when I open the bedroom door.
She is naked, asleep, and locked in deep embrace with another…….woman.