Happy Ginger Day Chumlies!!
As such gingers ought to be revered and respected. But they are not.
No! They have been forced to play jester, to remove sun glasses slowly and talk sideways at non gingered folk. Some gingers- it is rumoured- are only one mystic spray tan away from total destruction. And where the cries of 'leave them be?' Why oh why is there no organisation called PETG? Why isn't some dwarf girl from Heros out paddling about a sea of hairdressers and their dreaded bottles of peroxide? Why?
Who can say.
But somebody must say! I will say! Fear not blondies and others, embrace the ginger, cherish it. Get jiggy with it, go on, ti won't bite, not a chance. It's just waiting, like a timid cocker spaniel, waiting, for you to make the first moves, and then it will love the dickens out of you, oh yes.
It occurred to me between rum eleventy-three and rum eleventy-trillion last weekend that folk think Ginger Friday is some kind of inner joke. To this I must protest!
See chumlies, I am a woman of odd taste, and even odder affections, and I find myself charmed into toe curling glee at our most begingered fellow man. For me a Friday without ginger is a sad sort of day, lacking verve and splendor. Who woudl want that? Who would want the alternative. Who wants a Hofferday, or a mingerday? No I and not you surely.
So have at it Chumlies, reflect. I will be away until Tuesday, with Chumley Finn, running about the moors. Scorn not gingerosity, but recognise it for what it is, a throw back to mankind's beginnings, our heritage, this fatcat's oggly googlies.