Auntie Doris’s All Things Must Pass #11: The Amazons

Amazon female warriors

Them Amazons. The historians would have us believe that they were one of the few societies in the whole of history where women were the top dogs. As far as I can see, that just goes to show how little the ruddy historians know. Not much, that’s for sure, and the reason for that is that most of them are men. I don’t care whether a man is a professor of ruddy history or a lavatory attendant, he might think that he is in charge and in a male dominated society, but when it gets down to the nitty gritty, he is a mile wide of the mark. Who makes all the important decisions? I mean the really important decisions; Where to go on holiday? What type of wallpaper for the front room? Blankets or duvet? Frequency of Carnal Relations? You can’t trust ruddy men to judge any of those questions correctly, so they don’t, and if they try it, women set them straight, every ruddy time.
The only difference with the Aztecs is that the men actually knew that the women were in charge. They weren’t having the wool pulled over their eyes, like the men are today. I’m not sure that that would have been a good thing or not. Its easier to keep men in their place when they think that they are in charge. Them Amazon women would have had to have been a bit more forceful.
Apparently, they were ruddy forceful an’all. And as tough as old boots into the bargain. They used to chop off one of their boobs so that it wouldn’t get in the way when they were firing their bows and arrows and spears and things.
The thing with strong women is that the blokes always fancy them, and they quite often have a funny way of showing it an’all. You can understand that in a way, because some said that after an Amazon woman had had carnal relations with a man (which they reckon she only did to keep the race going) she killed him and ate him. Which is the same as what she did with the baby if it was a little lad. I reckon that was a bit extreme, but it takes all kinds.
Anyway, the king of Argos fancied The Amazon Queen, Hyppolita, but he didn’t fancy risking his neck by having carnal relations with her, so he sent Hercules to pinch her knickers for him. Filthy ruddy so and so. He didn’t even have the courage to pinch them himself. But while Hercules was unpegging them from the washing line, he knocked over some milk bottles, Hippolita came out to see what all the fuss was about and in the chaos, she ended up getting stabbed through the ruddy heart. Maybe if she had had both of her boobs, they might have cushioned the blow a bit.
Any road, the King of Argos got his knickers, and personally I hope he choked on the ruddy things. These days, his descendents run the Argos shops where you can walk in and buy stuff straight out of the catalogue. The descendents of the Amazon women don’t have any shops, they just sell stuff on the internet. It’s a far cry from those days where they were all warrior women. They even have men working from them, and the lasses can keep both of their boobs. All things must pass.

Auntie Doris’s All Things Must Pass #10: World War Two


Yes it was horrible. Yes loads of people died. Yes, we thought that it would be us next, what with Hitler sending them doodlebugs over every night and only Arthur Lowe and Clive Dunn standing between us and Ruddy Hitler,. But somehow, despite all that, there were plenty of people of my generation who missed the Second World War when it was all over.
I reckon that the reason that we looked back so fondly on it was that everyone felt that they were in the same boat back in them days. Them bombs could have hit any one of our houses from Buckingham Palace down to the grottiest hovel down the darkest back street of our grubby neck of the woods. If Hitler had have come over with his storm troopers, he would have come for the lot of us, an’all. Every one of us would have all been learning how to talk German, salute his ruddy silly flag and eat ruddy sausages made out of horse meat. None of us wanted that. Even when we was hungry. You don’t go eating horses. It just isn’t the British way. Or it wasn’t until the Germans came over anyway and built them Lidl stores everywhere selling their ruddy cheap “beefburgers”
The thing was, that during the war, what with having a common enemy, we all pulled together, and there was a real sense of community. Not like today, where it feels like its everyone for themselves, and them with the money and the power getting the biggest slice of everything. We used to share things out during the war, and if anyone was down on their luck, we used to help them.
There were some laughs too. Raymond’s Mother told me about the time when the sirens went off in the middle of the night while she was in bed. The drill was get your gas mask on and get out of the house and out to the shelter, which was a shared one for all the people who lived in her little terrace of houses. The only thing was she had been to visit her sister that night and forgotten to bring her mask home with her. So she was worried that she might get gassed to death. Then she remembered that she had read somewhere that you could protect yourself by soaking a blanket in water and throwing it over your head. Well she had plenty of blankets around her, because she was in bed, but no water. But there was a pot full of piss under the bed, and she didn’t want to die, so she soaked the blanket in it and ran downstairs and out to the shelter.
Of course, it was a false alarm, but she had to wait half an hour soaked in her own pee before it was safe to go back in. She ruddy stank to high heaven, and the neighbours never let her forget it. Mollie Pittle Head they used to call her. But it was all good natured fun. There was no malice in those days, we were all in it together after all. A real sense of fun and fellowhip. Its all gone now, but so has Hitler, so it all balances out I suppose. All things must pass.