An awful day
Becky Binz-Comely was having an awful day . It was that time of the month; Christmas was over; it was pissing down and freezing; the delayed train was steaming with sodden, standing commuters. Becky did what any well-brought-up young lady from Penge would do: she abused a near-minimum-wage oik in a cheap polyester uniform. 'You there...'. It was only a hundred years from Passchendaele, when great grandmama had sat, crocheted, suffraged and sang ' We don't want to lose you, but ...'. Becky was very proud of her heritage. This oik was not cannon-fodder, though: imagine Becky's chagrin when he did not cringe; imagine her horror when he actually answered back! 'Honey'! Becky was outraged. Becky was appalled. The struggle for women's rights was far from over. Had great-grandmama suffraged for this? Until a young, very well-brought-up female graduate could be heard in respectful silence, until her entirely justified complaints were met with