Friday, October 19, 2007

The Romanian Gambit

Gabby had some interesting news for me yesterday afternoon.

‘Chip?’ she said, ‘I want to become a man.’

I dropped my lunch into my lap. ‘I beg your pardon?’

She put her hands on her hips, tears in her eyes. ‘Gabby wants operation to become man.’

‘Yes, yes, that’s what I thought you’d said,’ I replied when I came around in the ambulance twenty minutes later.

On the drive home from the hospital, the situation became more clear to me.

‘I read in paper that men have more chance to become rich and successful,’ she explained. ‘I thought, if I become man, I might become rich and successful.’

‘Rubbish,’ I scoffed. ‘This has more to do with your dream of getting into the SAS!’

She blushed and I knew I was closer to the truth. There have been recruitment brochures for the Parachute Regiment falling through the letterbox for days. It had got to the point that I’d been laying out smoke markers for them so they would know where to land.

‘So what if it is?’ she asked. ‘Can’t a girl have her dreams?’

‘But Gabs,’ I said, cradling her in my arms. ‘Do you really want to have your things altered just so you can be dropped deep behind enemy lines in Afghanistan with a kit full of knifes, guns, and booby traps? Is that what you want?’

‘But Chip, I want to fulfill my potential.’

The poor girl had me there. What’s the point in being trained to the highest level of combat readiness without having chance to try it out for real? All the years she’s spend learning karate and judo, the knife fighting lessons, the years she spend in the Romanian commando school become proficient in light arms. It is all to be wasted?

‘I don’t know what to say,’ I said. ‘You are clearly cut out to inflict the severest punishment on our enemies. But you wouldn’t be happy just to record another Cheeky Girls album?’

She shrugged. ‘Will you still love me if I become a man?’

‘Ah,’ I said. ‘Well, now, you see… Of course, you know, live and let live. That’s my motto. I’m liberal, you know, and I believe that we should all have the right… you know, to… to you know… Ah…’

‘Is that a yes?’

‘Ah,’ I said, ‘well, now, you see… The thing is Gabby, much as I love you for yourself…’

‘Chip wouldn’t love me?’

‘Look,’ I said, trying to get my words out before the very unmanly tears began. I wasn't so sure they wouldn't be my own. ‘I’m certain there’s a way around this. There has to be a way to make you happy without the need for such drastic changes.’

It took the rest of the day, dozens of phone calls, and a last minute dash into town for an interview, but, before the sun set on a rather relieved Bangor, Gabby declared that she was happy to remain a woman.

‘This is wonderful,’ she said, coming to the breakfast bar this morning. ‘Do you like?’ she asked as she gave me a spin in her new uniform.

‘Without a doubt, you are the sexist traffic warden in Bangor,’ I said before I pushed a contented spoonful of Alpen into my mouth.

‘That’s good,’ she smiled. ‘I give you ticket for car parked on single yellow. You have twenty eight days or I come after you and I know where you live.’

11 comments:

Momentary Academic said...

I thought that she could become a secret agent. Why not?

Big Chip Dale said...

Unfortunately, she's too well known and much too loud to be secret in anything she does. She could only be deployed as shock troops, hence her wish to have a sex change operation and become part of the world's most elite regiment.

I'm happy that she's enjoying her role as Bangor traffic warden. She took out a guy parking with a fake disabled sticker from a hundred yards this afternoon, which pleased her enormously.

elberry said...

Jesus, where did you meet her?
She could try SAS selection via the TAs. A friend did this, got hypothermia in a blizzard and went into a state of gibbering shock. That sorted him out. Now he wants to kill for himself only, not for the G.

ElizaF said...

If Bangor traffic-ward-ing becomes to tame for here more hard-line regimented views, tell her to come and try Lewisham. They eat traffic wardens for breakfast there. It may be just the challange she needs.

Big Chip Dale said...

Elberry, that's such a good question I'll be writing on it very soon. It will also be part of my forthcoming autobiography.

Eliza, she's very excited by that news. Expect to see a parachute coming down sometime around dawn. If you hear gunfire, it's just her way of checking meters.

Bruce Forsythe said...

Racist bastard.

Bruce Whatever said...

Or is that Forsyth? I'm getting on in years...who gives a shit if I spell it wrong/

Big Chip Dale said...

Bruce, please moderate your tone. You were never this uncivil on the Generation Game. And please don't go making that kind of allegation without evidence to back it up.

Bruce Forsyth said...

I'll say anything I goddamn like using whatevr language I goddamn please. Don't you know who I am? I'm Bruce Forsyth.

Big Chip Dale said...

Let it go Bruce. Your time has passed. We don't want your old school song and dance around these parts. You gave a good game and it's still nice to see you, to see you nice, but admit it: you've lost your marbles.

Bruce Forsyth said...

This is very disappointing you little shit. After all I've done for Britain. I started the Industrial Revolution and I'm Jimmy Hill in my spare time.