Perfectly PC

Very PC

There are only so many times a girl can serve up sausage and mash, mugs
of tea with four sugars. Only so many times she can bend over to pick
up a dropped teaspoon. And only so much her budget can stretch to;
buying ten copies of the Guardian and Independent each day to replace
the copies of the Star and the Sun usually residing on the formica tops
completely bottomed out my bank account.

When the bright spot of the day becomes someone ordering a bottle of
Evian, you know it's time to quit.

I have always been a very PC, Littlewoods knickers sort of girl.
Sensible shoes, shortcut hair. Clairol number 213. I remember having an
argument in the pub once when a friend of mine started talking about
Red Indians.

'Don't you know that the proper term is Native American, you spaz?' I
almost spat in rage. A few people around us seemed to be wiping their
foreheads in exasperation.

I even initiated a 'Ban Humpty From the Classroom' petition once; I
added 'The Three Blind Mice' to it as a postscript. I simply couldn't
let all that violence be witnessed and devoured by young innocent
minds. I was due to go to Downing Street to present my petition after
my morning shift, but unfortunately Wogan had been caught up in a
snowdrift that day which had resulted in me being in a bit of a flap to
get to work. I didn't think Tony would be too impressed reading
egg-greased names and addresses so I didn't bother.

But when I came across an advert in the Standard one evening, I knew I
had found the perfect job.

"Due to a seismic shift in body-piercing trends, and due to the
sensitive nature of the work involved, the Metropolitan Police are now
seeking to recruit independent, female-only 'friskers'. This is a brand
new and challenging position which has been created to keep up with the
increase in anti-terrorism electronic body scanners"

As my lip-ring had blipped going through one once, I had felt that
humiliation only too freely.

Female Friskers. Perfectly PC. I'll put my application in tomorrow.