Hands Up Ladies!

I was sent this newspaper link a few minutes ago by a reader who is oft times amused by my ability to see an alternative view of any issue. âGo on, spin this oneâ he said. I recoiled from the challenge for a brief moment or two â too macabre for the time of year.
Then I read to the end of the article. âThe woman has mental problemsâ.
âHas sheâ I thought, âperhaps she is the sanest one amongst usâ. I have often wondered what the real definition of insanity is.
You see, this lady was discovered dancing naked around her apartment. Happy as Larry. The only problem was that on her sofa lay a âseveral months old corpse of a manâ. That got her arrested initially.
There was no suggestion that she was responsible for his death, nor that she was dancing with delight that he was dead. She was just dancing happily, content in her own mind.
Well now, I thought. Letâs look on the positive side.
Weâll skate tenderly round the issue of rigor mortis and its advantages at this time of seasonal cheer, over indulgence and brewerâs droop; and maybe just confine ourselves to the societal pressure that is put upon ladies to look utterly delighted at the prospect of taking that shambling, stumbling, red-faced drunk home with you after heâs humiliated you all evening with his coarse jokes and wandering eyes and worse, simply because thatâs what you are supposed to do (with a suitably benign expression on your face) when you are married to itâ¦(no part of this post applies to Mr G!)(but may be pertinent to previous husbandsâ¦)
She hadnât had to agonise over the correct dress to wear to his office âdoâ, just the right side of everybody fancying her without appearing cheap or setting off the green eyed monster of a thousand Christmas arguments. No, she could dance naked if she wished.
She hadnât spent the price of a pair of Manolo Blahnik shoes on a set of brass re-usable handles on a wooden box to âsee him offâ in approved fashion.
She hadnât had to spend days touring overcrowded shops looking for a present for his Mother. Or his Sister. Or find the addresses of all the relatives he never bothered with until it came time for her to send them a Christmas card.
She hadnât got up at the crack of dawn to buy an overpriced turkey and search for Brussels sprouts that werenât already brown at the edges, âcos everyone knows what Christmas lunch looks like for a man â and it has bread sauce and bits of bacon wound round the chipolatas, and you spend the next week wondering what else you can do to disguise the fact that he is finally going to have to eat the legsâ¦
She wonât be sitting down at last to watch the â100 best own goals of the seasonâ.
She wonât be making 25 turkey sandwiches on Boxing Day on account of all his mates coming round to help him put the body shell back on that MG heâs been restoring for the last ten years.
She wonât be wondering if he will rise from his comatose position on the sofa to help with the washing up â she knows damn well he wonât â and there isnât a ton of washing up anywayâ¦
She wonât be wondering where that strange smell is coming from and should she nag him to change his socks again â she knowsâ¦
And sheâs dancing, and the consensus of opinion is that she must be mad.
The rest of the female race will be staring at the motionless figure on their sofa and wondering whether it is they who is mad; and wondering what sort of mood it will be in when it finally starts moving again.
Hands up ladies â how much of a âtraditionalâ Christmas would you put on for yourselves?
*Conflict of interest declaration â Mr G is taking care of Christmas this year; no tree but a Turkey that would feed the five thousand. Iâve ordered smoked salmon and a half bottle of Champagne, and I shall be the one motionless on the sofa! I doubt that I shall get away with dancing naked, but Iâll be sure to let you know if I do.
Enjoy your hard workâ¦
December 23, 2011 at 00:30
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dancing used to be a vertical expression of a horizontal desire
December 22, 2011 at 20:31
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Insanity: doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different
results.
Attributed to (in various versions): Albert Einstein
Dancing? Naked??
December 22,
2011 at 17:33
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A gentleman will warm his hands first.
December 22, 2011 at 16:41
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Now thatâs what I call spin. Merry Christmas to all at Raccoon Towers, and
to all the visitors too.
December
22, 2011 at 16:37
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Iâd do everything I currently do. But smaller portions!
December 22, 2011 at 16:26
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Surely, if you are the 1 comatose on the settee it should be Mr G doing the
dancing. Just a thought.
December 22, 2011 at 17:55
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I shouldnât be reading this while taking a sip from my aperitif ⦠cough
â¦
December 22, 2011 at 14:27
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âThen I read to the end of the article. âThe woman has mental
problemsâ.â
Spike Milligan was proud of the fact thatâ¦..âAt least I have a Certificate
which says Iâm now saneâ
December 22,
2011 at 13:57
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Only âHalfâ a Bottle?
December 22, 2011 at 13:53
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I always find an audience helps when dancing naked (but Iâm not allowed out
anymore).
Aah, those sweet dog(ging) days of summer!
December 23, 2011 at 12:13
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This was in 1955!
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