I am entering a new phase in my life. Middle aged rebellion. For the first time in my 46 years (shome mishtake, surely? Ed.) I am GOING ON STRIKE. Yes, brothers and sisters! I am taking up arms. This is what provoked me to militancy. As you know, the KNOB* was disbanded, and following the arrival of a new lady orchestra leader, Waltraud (Wally) Von Klampwangler, we became an all-girl band, and looked forward to a new, more feminine, incarnation of what had been hitherto, it must be admitted, a bunch of unreconstructed old Kraut blokes blowing hot air.
Wally modernized the orchestra in double quick time - chucking out the old Munich beer festival songs and bringing in a new up to date repertoire with variations on Lady Gaga numbers; she also changed our public image completely: out with the lederhosen, in with the dungarees. The look was not so much Ivy Benson as Lisbeth Salander. Which was all right for the younger gels but Goth fashion doesn't suit ladies of a certain age. Some of us looked more Emu than Emo.
She even changed our name, to "Hot Flash" - reflecting the Time of Life of a large number of our members. It was a bit much for us old gels to come to terms with, but after a while we felt liberated and started to enjoy the new regime, one or two of our number got body piercings and Gertrude van Donckerwolke even got her mobility bike customized by the local street art collective.
However, power has inevitably now gone to Wally's head. She has decreed that we must appear on stage wearing orange boiler suits and Doc Martens! I put my foot down. I told her I will be appearing in my usual fruit basket hat, cashmere twin set and pearls, and Hush Puppies. She has declared me and a few others persona non grata and has confiscated my triangle! So much for sisters under the skin. I'm all for gender mainstreaming, but there are limits.
She won't look like this after she hits menopause
She even changed our name, to "Hot Flash" - reflecting the Time of Life of a large number of our members. It was a bit much for us old gels to come to terms with, but after a while we felt liberated and started to enjoy the new regime, one or two of our number got body piercings and Gertrude van Donckerwolke even got her mobility bike customized by the local street art collective.
However, power has inevitably now gone to Wally's head. She has decreed that we must appear on stage wearing orange boiler suits and Doc Martens! I put my foot down. I told her I will be appearing in my usual fruit basket hat, cashmere twin set and pearls, and Hush Puppies. She has declared me and a few others persona non grata and has confiscated my triangle! So much for sisters under the skin. I'm all for gender mainstreaming, but there are limits.
Anyway, it's been done before
I have been reading "The Leaderless Revolution" by former British diplomat Carne Ross, which has fired me to "take back agency" as he puts it. Or, as St Billy of Connolly put it more Scottishly in The Crucifixion, 4:45: "Dae sumthin". Up with this I will not put. I'm good and mad and I'm not gonna take it any more. On Monday I shall be protesting outside the HQ of the European Brass Neck Federation, with my fruity hat and my gay umbrella. Meanwhile, I'm practising my chants.
WHAT DO WE WANT ?
A nice flowery dress and sensible shoes.
WHEN DO WE WANT IT ?
Um ... what day is it today ?
Oh and sturdy foundation garments too.
A nice flowery dress and sensible shoes.
WHEN DO WE WANT IT ?
Um ... what day is it today ?
Oh and sturdy foundation garments too.
* Kurt Nachtnebel Oompah Band
5 comments:
I don't like the sound of this Wally woman. She seems like an uptight female who needs to have her pent-up frustrations released. I hope you embarrass the big band producer into moving her on.
If your triangle has been confiscated, you must have something else to bang - why not bash a frying-pan, Chilean style? If all else fails, can you still shake your maracas?
GB, women on top is not always for the best. As any miner will tell you. If only Bert were still here, he would put her in her platz. I do miss him, truth be told. He had a lovely ting.
Lycus, I can always shake my maracas. In fact I was shaking them to some Ethiopian jazz only last night. On Monday I shall follow the advice of Mr John Lenin and rattle my pearls.
I'm not happy with the idea of going on strike - that sounds awfully like having to do something before you can do nothing. Isn't there some way of having this "on strike" just happen? Or possibly of outsourcing or subcontracting the process, maybe to India?
Welcome, Mr Wood - or may I call you "Owl"? I'm not actually "going" anywhere, certainly not to the office. I am sacrificing a day's pay for my principles, it's not like just having a day orf.
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