That Time O’ Month

“Ey up youths” says Joe Sykes joinin’ me an’ Big Ron aatside t’ Angel Inn. “Our Paula’s on t’ war path agayen!”

“Wot’s tha done nah like, made another pie using cat food?” Says Big Ron.

“F’ youer information, it wer’ dog food. ‘Butcher’s Best Beef In Onion Gravy ter be precise!” replied Joe. “Ah jus' thowt that t’ dog on t’ tin wer part o’ theyer logo! An’ no, ah’ve only dun it t’ once. Mind thee, cum ter think o’ it, ‘appen Paula’s ‘ad a cold nose ‘an a glossy coat ivver since – an’ reight nah, she’s got a face on ‘er like a bulldog chewin’ a wasp!”

“P’rhaps tis an understandable mistake” ah says. “Atter all, on t’ boxes o’ Frosties there's a picture o’ a tiger - but tha’d ‘ave ter be soft in t’ head, ter think tigers eat cornflakes!”

“Ooer penguins eat biscuits!” added Joe.

“So wot’s tha dun nah ter upset yon wife?” Asked Big Ron.

“Me? Nowt!” says Joe defiantly. “Tis jus’ that it’s almost that time o’ month agayen!”

“Bugger!” ah says.

“Appen as not, tha’s in deep trouble then” adds Big Ron. “Tha dun’t ‘ave ter be guilty o’ owt ter be in deep pooh at that time o’ month!”

“Tha’s not kiddin” continues Joe, “ah reckon ‘at jus’ afore Aunty Flow arrives, primal forces set violent ‘ormonal changes surging thru ‘er body, an’ mi sweet wonderful wife suddenly transforms in ter 'an inbred hillbilly wi’ knife skills.”

“Dust tha hear ‘Dueling Banjos’ in t’ head wen she’s abaat?” asked Big Ron.

“Aye lad, ah do!” answers Joe. “But thankfully, ah allus gets a bit o’ a warning jus’ afore t’ change takes ‘er - coz t’ bathroom suddenly transforms in ter a triage area fra a war zone, wi hundreds o’ sanitary pads ivvry wayer! Dust tha know that they ‘ave summat called Flexi-Wings? Ah didn’t even kno’ they cud fly!”

“Flexi-Wings?” ah says,  “Imagine t’ kudos o’ bein’ t’ only company smart enuf ter realise ‘ow crucial it is that sanitary pads be aerodynamic? Appen aal t’ lasses’ll be feelin’ reight safe an’ secure each month knowin’ there's a little F-16 in theyer pants!”

“Ah reckon that us government should stop companies mekin misleading TV adverts.” Says Big Ron matter o’ factly. “My Margaret’s bin usin’ ‘Always Maxi-Pads’ f’ ovva 40 years! Yet despite theyer Leak Guard Core an’ Dry-Weave Absorbency, she’s nivver bin parachuting, horseback riding or salsa dancing! An ah’ve certainly nivver seen ‘er running up an’ daan t’ beach in tight, white shorts doin’ slo-mo impressions o’ t’ bionic woman! Hell if that’s wot they’d do f’ her, ah’d buy ‘em by t’ cart load!”

“Our Paula’s allus gannin on abaat t’ bloating, puffiness, an’ cramping women endure” says Joe, “an’ abaat aal t’intense mood swings, crying jags, an’ aat-o’-control behavior.  Says ‘ow if she didn’t top ‘erself up on pain killers f’ a week, she’d probably march daan ter Morrisons armed wi a hunting rifle an’ a sketchy plan ter end ivveryone’s life in a blaze o’ glory!”

“Ah’d notice yorn lass can get a gnats touchy!” ah says.

“Touchy!!?” Says Joe. “This mornin’ Paula threatened ter shuv mi testicles into t’ George Foreman Grill jus’ coz ah told ‘er Coronation Street wor written by Lancastrians wi less grey cells than an amoeba!”

“Women are emotional time bombs!” Ah says. “Jus’ think, ‘at onny one moment in time, Yorkshire is full o’ hormonally super-charged, gobby homicidal maniacs, dancin' raand handbags loaded on vodka shots! Tis no wonder us blokes is aalways in bother!”

“Ah once opened one o' Margret’s boxes o’maxi-pads” says Big Ron absent mindedly, “f’ scientific understandin’ purposes like - an theyer, printed on t’ adhesive backing, wer’ t’ words: 'Have A Happy Period'. Dust these people seriously think ‘appiness - actual smiling, loving an’ sensible communication - is possible during a women’s menstrual cycle? Shuerly, if t' small minded marketing managers wi’ in these faceless organisations ‘ave ter slap a message on a chuffin sanitary pad, it’d mek mooer sense ter say summat that's actually pertinent?”

“Aye” ah says, “like: Put Down That Hammer or Vehicular Manslaughter Is Wrong!”