The Gubb: Gammons Can’t Say Anything Nowadays.
Salty pink-faced humans feel like they're "constantly walking on eggshells".
Barry Oak-Ham (not his real name) says he’s scared to speak out against today’s “woke generation”. He claims he can no longer talk openly about things he knows fuck all about. “We’re supposed to live in a liberal society but say the wrong thing and you’ll experience the fury of the loony-lefty-wokey mob.”
A yearning for simpler times.
Barry is under fire from local social justice groups for counter-protesting against what he deems “political correctness gone mad”. He longs for a time when “men were men and women didn’t moan all the fucking time.”
Barry’s not alone.
He’s found support from two of his mates, Clive Bacon (not his real name) and Terry Trotter (his actual name). Clive struggles with the changing times. “It’s so confusing now. I’m not sure how to function in a society where I have to watch my every word and action. I remember, not too long ago, when it was the birthright of every tradesman to shout across the street to an unsuspecting woman about how lovely her breasts were. In my day, it was a compliment!” Terry agrees. “Men are too frightened to do anything to a woman now. It’s no longer acceptable to ruthlessly pursue one, in spite of their objections. And goosing a girl at the bar is practically a hanging offence.”
Unrest in the community.
The Gubb visited Barry’s local to gauge opinion. The landlord plays a weekend game of five-a-side, he says that “cancel culture madness” has crept into the changing rooms. “What has the world come to when a man can no longer forcibly grab another man’s testicles in the communal shower? Nowadays that’s sexual assault—and none of the men I do it to are even gay.”
And talking about the gays, the landlord adds, “I can honestly say, hand-on-heart that I’m not homophobic. I’m not fearful of them. Why would I be scared of a man that probably flounces about decorating houses or cutting hair for a living? I will admit, lesbians are scary.” He insists that he has “nothing against benders”. Once on the subject, he struggles to talk of anything else. “Honest, I don’t mind them. Let them do whatever it is they do together, together, I only wish it wasn’t rammed down my throat all the time.” He no longer watches the telly. “I’m sick and tired of the gay agenda being promoted on our screens. I saw an advert showing two men living in a flat and one was brown. That’s just not real life, is it? Ads like that only represent a very small percentage of the population. All it’s doing is alienating most of the audience. As a licence fee payer, I feel personally affronted.”
“We’re not monsters.”
Barry gets offended when he’s called a bigot, “I’m not racist. I think it’s nice that marginalised groups want a better life but I wish they’d go about it in a more civilised manner. When a so-called peaceful protest descends into a riot, I just think, you’ve lost your argument there.” Clive agrees. “If minorities don’t think they’re getting a fair deal, why not write a respectful, yet strongly worded letter to their local MP? It worked when my bins weren’t being collected.”
Difficult dinner party conversations.
Socialising has also become tricky for Barry and his friends. They no longer enjoy spending time in mixed company. Terry likens it to “walking through a minefield”. Free speech comes at a cost and according to Barry, it’s a cost he’s not prepared to pay: “It’s not really free then is it?”
Coming soon: Cold Water, a modern crime noir
I've dusted off an ancient manuscript, something that probably should never see the light of day, and yet, I'm going to serialise it here…
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This has got to be the best piece of satire I’ve read in a long time. You’re hilarious!