“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.
“It all started with the Suffragette 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, “I’m totally confused.”
“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 our children under the care of the state so they could assimilate them from the time they’re born.”
Madness, I think, but often madness contains a grain of truth.
“And why,” I ask my new best friend, “why are women so against men these days?”
“Well,” says he, “it’s a lot to do with brainwashing, but also biological manipulation of women on a cellular level.”
“How do you mean ‘cellular’?” I ask.
“Science invented the contraceptive pill,” he says, “and why do you think they did that?”
“Um, so women could take control of their reproductive cycles?”
“Wrong,” says John Joe O’Connor, “women are more attracted to masculine men when they are ovulating – science has demonstrated this. Get women on the contraceptive pill and POW – no more ovulation. And no more ovulation leads to no more desire for manly men. No more desire for typical manly men leads to no more need for manly men. Like, basic commerce – if there’s no consumer demand for a product then it will not be long before that product becomes obsolete.”
Bloody hell, I ponder inwardly, either this guy is a genius or a complete fucking lunatic. Either way, I’m in for an interesting evening.
“So,” I enquire, “have you any more evidence for your assertions?”
“ABSOLUTELY!” he asserts.
“And that is?”
“Pornography,” he says, and I titter in spite of myself.
“It’s no joke,” he says, “now I don’t be looking at the porn myself, you understand, a fine man like me has no need, but I’ve seen statistics released from the porn sites – and do you know what the most popular porn on the internet is?”
“Go on,” I encourage.
“LESBIAN PORN,” he booms, “the whole world has gone lesbian. Even the men – and all because of the contraceptive pill.”
“Interesting theories, sir, interesting theories; you’ll get in trouble with some people if you say these things.”
“I’m already in trouble,” he says, “why do you think I’m out drinkin’? I need the drink to cope with the stress of potential assassination!”
“Assassination? Really? And who are ‘they‘ that would want to assassinate you?”
“They! They! They! The shower that got me banned from YouTube, Twitter, and Facebook!!”
“And why would they do that?”
“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 right 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, his hurt looking expression changing to one of semi-sympathetic amusement in an instant. He laughs, “Oh for sure you will”.
“Two more Guinness there, sir!” I shout at the barman. One of these is for my new loopy buddy as compensation for the folly of my treading upon his feelings.
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.