So there has been quite a mass of commentary, media coverage and blogging on the Death of Maggie Thatcher this week. Not one for missing a band waggon I thought I should add to this mire.
Thatcher polarised political thinking and caused as much anger as approval for her policies by the people of Britain. By sheer number of years of her premiership, a British era was coined in her name: Thatcher's Children.
Some of what I have read has been personal accounts of how Thatcher affected the writer of the piece. And for mine, I will be no different.
For me, given my generation, Margaret Thatcher affected me in my formative years. And it was a profound shaping by her. Mrs. Thatcher gave me my first complex joke. Not one of these Question / "I don't know" / Punchline jingles. A proper stripped down "garden path" joke.
And now, more than ever, at the most poignant/happy time this seems right to tell it again.
Another boy in the classroom told me it. Having possibly just heard it himself, he hurried accross to where I sat.
"Whatever I say, you say 'Inspector Boobs' after it, OK?"
Others gathered round my desk. They knew what was going down here.
"Who got you into the Army?"
"Inspector Boobs"
"Who got you out the Army?"
"Inspector Boobs"
"Who got you in the Navy?"
"Inspector Boobs"
"Who got you out the Navy?"
"Inspector Boobs"
"Who got you in the Police force?"
"Inspector Boobs"
"Who drives you in the police car?"
"Inspector Boobs"
"Who solves the murders?"
"Inspector Boobs"
"Who solves the robberies?"
"Inspector Boobs"
"Who arrests drug dealers?"
"Inspector Boobs"
"Who files all their paperwork the neatest?"
"Inspector Boobs"
"Who is the highest goal scorer in the local Force football team?"
"Inspector Boobs"
"What would you do if you met Maggie Thatcher?"
"Inspector Boobs"
Ha! Brilliant.
Inspect her boobs.
It could have been The Queen in the joke. It could have been Samantha Fox. But it wasn't. It was Margaret Thatcher.
And for that, I will always remember Margaret Thatcher.
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