I heard a thin, quiet, but confident voice say ‘excuse me’ in the supermarket today. I followed its source and there was a little girl of around seven looking at me in the way only little girls can. She wanted me to reach something from a higher shelf, and I duly obliged. ‘Duly’ is hardly adequate. ‘Eagerly’ would be better, because that sort of thing makes my day. What higher purpose can life provide than to be of service to a little girl?
And then I had a thought, as I do. I decided that we should sweep the Palace of Westminster clean of all those boring men and women in business suits, and replace them with little girls. Age 5-11 should be about right. Imagine what fun we’d all have. How life would improve, I’ve little doubt.
So what of the little boys, I hear you ask. Why, they can take to the campaign trail and demand emancipation, of course.