Softies up and down Britain have complained of renewed attacks on them by newly emboldened Menaces in the wake of the EU referendum. In some cases, Softies have been dunked in muddy lakes, run down by bicycles or hit by marbles fired from catapults, only to be told it was just ‘banter’.
‘My childhood was a misery,’ sobbed one Softie, Walter, who grew up in Beantown in the 1970s. ‘Every time my friends had a tea party in our ballerina tutus, the local Menaces would charge in and ruin it. I’ve barely got over the trauma of my beloved poodle Foo-Foo being gnashed to death by a horrible black dog.’
During the 1980s and 1990s, things took a turn for the better for Softies as it became increasingly unacceptable to hang them upside-down by their shoelaces from the branches of trees. Walter felt free to stop pretending to have a girlfriend and pursued a successful career in costume design for the theatre. He now lives with his boyfriend in a converted warehouse in Shoreditch.
Unfortunately, the Brexit vote coincided with Walter’s local nemesis, identified unofficially as ‘Dennis’, being released on parole after serving half of a three-year sentence for robbing several local restaurants of large piles of sausages and mash. Now Walter fears reliving the trauma of his youth all over again.
Dennis, however, is deriding Walter and others like him as liberal elitist snowflakes, who can’t even stand up to girly Minxes, never mind Menaces. ‘It was perfectly fair in the old days, we all knew where we stood,’ he said. ‘I’d pour a jarful of lizards down Walter’s shorts, he’d go crying to his Mum and my Dad would whack me with a size 38 slipper.’
Added Dennis: ‘Getting whacked did me any harm, other than turning me into a calculating psychopath with a hair-trigger temper. Now I do the same to my own sons, on the one weekend a month I get supervised access. Like all patriotic British Menaces, I rejoice in the death of political correctness and hope they can grow up in the same kind of Beanotown I used to know.’