Whack Those Butts! 

Research repeatedly illustrates the failure of the criminal justice system in its dealings with women. Domestic violence, experienced by one woman in three, is a notoriously difficult area in which to secure convictions, while only seven out of 100 reported rapes result in conviction. Anne Perkins

One in three women experience domestic violence?

One in three?

Good grief. It was only one in four last week!

At this alarming rate of increase by the year 2005 there will not be a woman in the UK who is not daily being beaten most heartily from dusk until dawn.

By 2010 western womenfolk will surely be walloped warmly and wantonly in the morning before breakfast, assaulted most grievously for a good part of the afternoon, and then thrashed soundly with a positive plethora of interestingly-shaped implements just before bedtime.

And what jolly good fun it will be!

Indeed, I soon intend to propose an annual National Spankathon Day, wherein women and children alike shall be most gratifyingly spanked both warmly and enthusiastically on their behinds by all the men whom they have irked throughout the preceding 12 months. 

For 24 hours throughout the land there will be heard what appears to be the sound of energetic applause emanating from thousands of theatres and auditoriums packed to the brim with happy people - clap, clap, clap, clappety, clappety, clap - but, somewhat uncharacteristically, this seemingly customary overt display of positive endorsement will be accompanied by a fascinating and amusing variety of moanings and wailings and the gnashing of teeth! 

Ouch! Youch! Oooch! Ahhhh! Eeeee! Whoaa! Whaaa! 

And there shall be prizes awarded both for the best techniques of chastisement and for the most wholesome of results. 

It shall be a cathartic day of restitution and release, and, of course, revenge!

And then, in the evening, when the children are in bed sleeping, the men will gather together around campfires and sing songs of yore, whilst their sore and silenced womenfolk will scuttle around them unobtrusively, and in great shame, as they lay before them the most enormous glasses of beer and a wide array of sandwiches.

A good day will be had by all!

And if this annual event is a success - which surely it will be - then its frequency could be increased to coincide with the first Sunday of every month - or even of every week!

Every week!

Take it from me, domestic violence against women and children would plummet. The Gross National Product would soar. The jails would be emptier. The streets would be safer. 

Indeed, there would be peace and quiet right throughout the land.

And then, just on Sundays, clap, clap, clap, clappety, clappety, clap. Ouch! Youch! Oooch! Ahhhh! Eeeee! Whoaa! Whaaa! 

"Oh, give me a home, where the buffalo roam,
Where the deer and the antelope play,
Where seldom is heard a discouraging word,
And the skies are not cloudy all day."

Clap, clap, clap, clappety, clappety, clap. Ouch! Youch! Oooch! Ahhhh! Eeeee! Whoaa! Whaaa!  

"Haaaaaowmm ... Home on theraaaange, where the deeeer and the aaantelope play, ...." 

Oh, and before any of you perpetually-enraged womenfolk out there send me hostile emails regarding my taking of the issue of domestic violence so lightly, let me remind readers that I live in a country wherein women laugh often at Bobbit jokes.

And so if any feminist mullahs out there are offended by my comparatively mild humour in relation to 'domestic violence', well, quite frankly, I couldn't give a sh*t.

"Haaaaaowmm ... Home on theraaaange, where the deeeer ... 

... and the annnnntelope plaaaaay ... ... "