Darwin Rules! OK?

More wit from my Suffolk novel, Someone Tell Me What Is Going On.

Darwin on Blow Jobs

We stopped mid-afternoon for tea and cakes. Vera was vacant and morose. She was working something through. I decided it wasn’t the moment to challenge her.

Where are the strawberries?

The cream tea was magic. Perhaps now she can be cheered up?

‘I feel sorry for blokes with beards and moustaches,’ I started. ‘I’ve nothing against facial hair, but an inch of scone, butter, jam and double cream must be a challenge too far if you don’t want to look like Father Christmas after a road traffic accident.’

She looked irritated by my simile.

‘Say that again.’


‘The bit about road accidents at Christmas.’

‘Not worth it.’

‘At last we agree on something.’

Ignoring my figure of speech, she picked up on the topic. She was glad to be diverted.

‘Women are genetically better predisposed to cope with cream tea, Millicent. It’s Darwin, I suppose. Natural selection. It’s an advantage for a woman to be able to open her mouth wide, and that has nothing to do with dentists.’

I felt a giggle coming on.

‘How do you work that one out? Why is a woman scoffing cream tea likely to survive better than one who can’t manage four layers in one go?’

‘It means, as a rule of thumb, she will be able to eat quicker and will get more to eat, and thus better survive.’

I decided to lead her on.

‘OK. Anything else?’

‘She can talk quicker and louder, so her man will want to get out of the way and go hunting more often. That means he will bring home more food.’

By now we were both convulsed in giggles, knowing what was still to come.

‘Very good!’ I said. ‘But if she talks too much, he may choose not to bring his catch home to her.’

I had an inkling of her next thought, but I didn’t want to spoil her punch-line. Vera struggled to control her mirth and steady her voice. She had several attempts at beginning the sentence. The buttered scone with jam and cream had to wait a while. Vera didn’t notice that in her efforts to control the giggles she shouted.

‘If she has a big gob, she can do good oral sex and her man will forgive her talking all the time and want to come home quicker after hunting. Also, he will be motivated to be a better hunter and bring more food so that she will be more thankful.’

‘Darwin covers all bases again,’ I snorted, with tears of mirth streaming down my cheeks.

I think we came close to be ejected from the tea-room. That would have made the local paper.

Photo by cottonbro on Pexels.com

A quick excerpt from my novel, Someone Tell Me What Is Going On.

Amazon e-book download, just £0.99. Free on Kindle Unlimited

Published by Clive La Pensée

Clive La Pensée, ex-science teacher, recognised writer on history of beer, novelist, expressionist, dreamer, believer in never giving up, empathiser, hopeful for a future without class, gender or racial prejudice. It's tough and at the moment, one has to remember distance travelled, rather than where we are at.

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