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Miss Morality in ‘The Tunnels of Intolerance’- Part Four (The Conclusion)

Written by: Mark. A. Pritchard

Released on: The Rorshach Rant- 25th March 2015



‘The tunnels of intolerance are everywhere my silly, muddled headed little daughter. When you think that you have closed one, another two open. That’s how it works, that’s how it has always worked. You might know me by another name….THE DISSENTER….Yes, it is me. The gang of criminals known as the ‘Politically Incorrect Scoundrels’ is my little group. I set it up when I faked my death and abandoned your stupid mother to get away from you. How is your mother nowadays anyway LOVE? Ha ha ha. Yes it was me who forced her to take those drugs; it was me that drove her into an early heroin induced grave. Ha ha ha ha, you women don’t know what you are up against. Your feminist resistance is doomed to failure, doomed I tell you, ha ha ha ha ha’

The dull grey glint of evil, white middle class privilege shone like a dirty cancerous tumour in his eyes as Miss Morality’s father spat his horrible, nasty, intolerant truth into her beatific, innocent face.

‘Daddy, I…. I…I…I can’t believe it…’ she stuttered, unable to respond to the hatred laced revelations coming from her own father.

‘Shut your cake hole, you spoiled brat. If you can’t talk without stammering, don’t talk at all. Did you really think that I was dead? Did you really think that my kind had simply died out, gone extinct like the dinosaurs? No, I simply bided my time, laid my trap, and you fell straight into it, like the stupid GIRL that you always were.’

Now he was bragging, really starting to enjoy himself and his final victory. Miss Morality slumped to the floor of her prison cell, unwilling to look into the face of evil, the face that was her father.

‘Get up LOVE,’ and he spoke that last word with particular spiteful relish, enjoying the connotation of sexist degradation that the word carries.

‘I have another surprise for you SWEETHEART. Stand-up, take it like a GIRL. Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha.’

And as his callous laugh taunted the very air around him a familiar voice spoke up from somewhere very near.

‘Sister, sister, ha ha ha ha ha ha ha, sister indeed.’ 

‘Brother? Is that you?’ 

Miss Morality had bravely found her voice, and as she stumbled to her feet, there waiting, at her tiny prison-cell window was the leering face of her brother Ruthus.

‘The tunnels of intolerance run deep Sis. Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha. Yes, I am one of them now. Daddy has cured me of my evil homosexuality. I am a real man now, and the Politically incorrect scoundrels have welcomed me with open arms. I even have a girlfriend. Her name is Claire. She is reaaaalllly pretty, ha ha ha ha. She is a secretary, ha ha ha ha ha ha.’

Miss Morality was on the verge of passing out. Her father always was an evil bastard, but he was a dead evil bastard, or so she had believed. Now, not only had he had returned from the dead, but he had brainwashed her poor innocent, homosexual brother Rufus as well. This was simply too much for her to take.

Rufus was no longer the confused, bumbling, effeminate sweetheart of a man that she had known and loved. He had been brainwashed, changed against his will (presumably) into something evil, something beyond human. Yes, those monsters had changed him into that worst of all creatures, the straight, white male.

The horror was almost too much for her to bear. Everything about him seemed different. He was wearing a football shirt. He smelt like cheap lager and his nails looked absolutely awful as he gripped her prison bars before delivering this final taunt to his despairing sister.

‘Hey Sis, before I forget. Your brat kid. She is ours now. The BBC Jimmy Saville Care-home for abandoned and vulnerable young girls is doing a fine job, but we need to bring her into the fold. She will make a fine housewife for one of our members, a fine housewife indeed, ha ha ha ha ha ha.’

The evil lager enthused laughter was punctuated only by the screams of a desperately clawing at her cell bars Miss Morality.

‘Noooooo, you monsters, you monsters, nooooooooo.’

‘See you in the pub later Dad. Champions League tonight, later mate.’ 

And with these final Hellish words coming from the now obscenely manly lips of her unrecognisable, brainwashed, not gay anymore brother, he was gone.

The last words in this awful scene of patriarchal brutality came from the woman hating mouth of the uniformed Police officer standing infront of the cell that contained a now curled up, weeping, convulsing Miss Morality.

She could no longer speak. All she could do was cry, and the evil incarnate that was her father, THE DISSENTER, delivered his final words like a knife in her back.

‘I’ll have custody of your darling baby girl in the morning LOVE. My Politically Incorrect Scoundrels own the courts. We own everything. Baby Sojourner will be taught to respect her man. No more feminism for her, she will never, ever taste the sweet, sweet air of emancipation and freedom away from our manly, hairy mitts. Goodbye DARLING, and remember. You can BITCH, you can whine, you can moan and complain, but the tunnels of intolerance run deep. Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha. The tunnels of intolerance run deeeeeeeep.’

END (Or, is it?)

And so ends my story. The message that it contains should be very clear. The tunnels of intolerance run very deep indeed dear reader. The world is a terrible place, but together we can break down those tunnels of intolerance, those hidden, underground networks of sexism, of racism, of homophobia and err, all of the other evil stuff like that. We can stop the evils of white, male, middle class, straight, privilege. Together, we can free female warriors like Miss Morality. We can save young girls from the evils of marriage, from motherhood and a wasted life loving and caring for their patriarchal prison construct called ‘family.’ It’s going to be a tough battle, but we can do it. Join the social justice warrior movement, and together we can rid the world of the evil that is patriarchy, forever.

* If any artist would be willing to illustrate this story, then please let me know.

Miss Morality, in ‘The Tunnels of Intolerance’- Part Three

Written by: Mark. A. Pritchard
Released on: The Rorshach Rant- 13th March 2015


Screaming and crying from the back of a Police van, a dishevelled, distressed and disturbingly inebriated Miss Morality railed against the injustice, the misogyny and institutional sexism of the Police force.

‘Ya f*****g b******s, I’m gonna f*****g sue every single last one of you c**** *** **** ****, if it’s the last thing you do, you rapist m***********s.’

It was a sad sight indeed as our brave feminist warrior was carted off to the nearest cell to sober up, calm down, and sleep off the half a bottle of vodka and six beers that had reduced her to this sorry state of inebriation.

As she was taken away the watching criminal mastermind known as ‘The Dissenter,’ enthusiastically detailed the next stage of his plans.

‘Good job mate. Keep her locked up for a good ten hours and that should be enough for us to sort her out for good. Her days of social justice campaigning are over forever, ha ha ha ha ha.’

‘Ha ha ha ha ha,good one boss,' replied the pig like arresting officer as he struggled to regain his composure. ‘Ding, dong, the witch is dead, ha ha ha ha ha.’

The hateful patriarchal laughter of the two women hating villains rang sinisterly throughout the early evening traffic. They enthusiastically shook hands, winked the secret wink of patriarchy to each other, and left to complete the remainder of their evil plans. The arresting officer going back to the Police station to make sure that poor Miss Morality spent the night in the cells, and the Dissenter off to cause more mischief and put the next stage of his evil plan into operation.

When social services arrived at the now deserted home of Miss Morality they were alarmed (but not surprised) to hear the distressed cries of a hungry baby girl. Her mother was in jail, but where was her uncle?

Where was the blameless and pure Rufus? Surely he wouldn’t abandon his sister's baby at this most inopportune time? No, of course not, but that’s exactly what it looked like to the social workers. This was not good news for our brave social justice warrior at all.

After a quick call to the police, and a battering ram to the door, baby Sojourner was whisked away, and sent straight into the loving arms of the expert child-care specialists working for the BBC Jimmy Saville care-home for abandoned and vulnerable young girls.

‘Stage two of the operation is complete boss,’ said a hateful manly figure in black as baby Sojourner was delivered to the home. ‘We know what to do from this point on, same routine right?’

‘Oh yes, my conspiratorial colleague,’ replied the Dissenter.

‘Same routine as before, ha ha ha ha ha ha ha.’

It was 11am the next morning when a sick as a female parrot Miss Morality woke in her Police cell. Suffering from a stinging headache and no memory of the night-before she banged angrily upon the cell door demanded to know what was happening.

‘Help, help where am I? What is happening here? I demand to see a female solicitor. I'm being held against my will. My female rights are being violated.  Help, help, help, help.’

Her cries for help were answered by a familiar whistling coming from the bottom of the corridor. The whistling got slowly louder, and louder as it’s source walked calmly, slowly, sinisterly towards the trapped feminist social justice warrior.

A trembling, terrified and deeply distressed Miss Morality recognised the whistling immediately. She knew it well. It was a whistle she had learned to fear as a small, innocent frightened and abused little girl.

‘Hello love,’ said a smiling, hairy, ugly brute of a man as he glared menacingly at Miss Morality through the tiny little window of her prison cell.

‘What do you think of my uniform? I look rather masculine in blue, don’t you think?’

‘Oh my mother goddess,’ replied an almost fainting Miss Morality.

‘No, no, no no, no. This can’t be real. This can’t be happening.’

 ‘Daddy, it’s you.’


END OF PART THREE



Miss Morality will return next week (Friday 20th March) in ‘The Tunnels of Intolerance’- Part 4. Is all hope gone for our brave social justice warrior? Where is Rufus? Is baby Sojourner going to be safe in the BBC Jimmy Saville care home? How is Miss Morality going to escape the masculine oppression of her own father? All will be revealed next week. DON’T MISS IT.


* If any artist would like to illustrate this story, then please let me know.

Miss Morality in ‘The Tunnels of Intolerance’- Part Two

Written by: Mark. A. Pritchard
Released on: The Rorshach Rant- 6th March 2015



As she rushed, heroically, into the cold, dark, patriarchy filled streets, the strong, empowered, beautiful and independent Miss Morality courageously blocked out the despairing wail of a crying child and moved forward, towards her duty, her destiny, her raison d’être.

No longer would the white male privilege of her society continue to victimise those she loved, no longer would she remain powerless, victimised, unable to defend herself from the tidal wave of sexism, of racism, of homophobia, of intolerance that was destroying the very planet herself. NO, she would bravely stand up, and do something about this intolerable situation. A member of the homosexual community had been raped by the system one too many times, and today was the day when she righted that wrong, and changed the world forever.

Rufus ran into the street, mobile phone in hand, frantically waving at the departing Miss Morality as she took the Number 176 Bus.

‘Miss Morality, Miss Morality…wait. I have to go to work in ten minutes and my sister is missing. Who is going to look after the baby, she’s crying. Miss Morality…..Miss Morality.’

Focus, focus was needed here, no distractions, just focus, and that’s what Miss Morality had in spades. The world was blocked out, her mission was set, the outside world faded into the background as she concentrated on her goal, the goal of liberation, the goal of emancipation, the goal of freedom.

‘Daddy, what’s the matter with that lady?’ Asked a young girl who sat one row behind our snorting, mumbling and ranting super-heroine as the number 176 Bus jerkily made it’s way through the mid-afternoon traffic.

‘Don’t look at her Sally. She’s not very well,’ her father softly and quietly replied as he shifted in his seat now shielding his daughter from an increasingly loud and agitated Miss Morality as she cleared the back of the Bus from all passengers but herself.

Meanwhile, deep beneath the city centre, in the cold, grimy, filthy, rat infested den known as the ‘Man cave of Intolerance, the devilish group known as ‘The Politically Incorrect Scoundrels’ chuckled in delight at the scene they had expertly managed to orchestrate.

‘Ha, ha, ha, ha ha, my fellow scoundrels, the plan is working to perfection,’ spoke up the leader of the group, the face of evil himself, a man known only as ‘The Dissenter.’

‘Not only has Miss Morality left a crying baby behind her, she has also caused quite a scene on public transport. Her true colours are being revealed, and the public will inevitably start to lose sympathy for her rightful cause. Now, let’s sit back, relax, and watch our Patriarch-cam monitors as she walks directly into our trap, Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha.’

And as the evil, cackling laugh reverberated around the lair of the villainous scoundrels a kind hearted, trusting selfless Miss Morality walked straight into their trap.

Can of mace in hand, and with her keen senses alert to the faintest threat of danger, Miss Morality stealthily made her way up the front path towards Ruthus’s flat.

‘Oh hi Liz, nice costume you are wearing. How’s little baby Sojourner today? Does she still have her funny tummy?’ said a smiling, cheerful, middle-aged lady as Miss Morality crept stealthily down the pathway.

‘Yeah, she’s fine. Bit busy now, chat later,’ mumbled a fiercely determined and steadfast in her assignment Miss Morality. This was no time for chatting; this was a life or death situation she was dealing with here.

‘Oh, okay then. Talk later love,’ came the reply from the ever cheerful, middle aged victim of masculine, rape culture oppression.

Miss Morality had been working on her for six months now, but it just didn’t seem to be working. Patriarchy was strong, but social justice was stronger, and Miss Morality felt sure that it would just be a matter of time before this poor, deluded old lady was wakened up to the realities of our times.

However, that smiling middle class lady was not what she appeared to be. She was no innocent; she was in fact the distraction agent of the Scoundrels. It was her job to distract Miss Morality, to break her focus, to leave our brave heroine open to attack, and that is exactly what she had done. Miss Morality attempted to refocus her attention on the mission of the day, but she was off guard, and taken unawares.

What happened next was almost beyond words, beyond powers of description, of comprehension, of believability in fact. The front door of the block of flats flew open, and a smiling young man bowed respectfully before a startled Miss Morality, loudly announcing,

‘Hey lads, the stripper’s here. Barry get Dave, get Dave quick, he’s going to love this. Right love, we’re ready, that bald bloke coming down the stairs now is the husband to be, so do your worse and show him some final freedom before his big day.’

Everything in her body screamed no, struggled to rebel, to fight the situation, to fight for woman-kind, to fight against this disgusting display of brute male sexist aggression, but Miss Morality felt powerless to resist. She struggled and struggled, but the distraction agent had done her work and our brave social justice warrior felt her willpower evaporating. What happened next was terrible.  She grabbed a bottle of vodka, took a hearty gulp, and then began to slowly strip, and dance for the group of demonically cheering men.

Just half an hour later and the world was turned completely upside down. Miss Morality was dancing drunkenly upon a table, and a panicked, scared and quietly sobbing homosexual brother searched desperately for his missing sister, and somebody, anybody to help him pacify a crying baby girl. He called his sister, called his friends, called his family, but there was no reply. Something very strange was happening here, and he didn’t know what to do.

The wild, triumphant scenes of celebration coming from the bowels of the earth threatened to shake the city itself as the gang of rogues known as the Politically Incorrect Scoundrels saw their perfectly set trap coming into fruition.

‘Settle down lads, settle down,’ said the devilishly hateful Dissenter, the leader of the group of intolerant, sexist, racist and homophobic scoundrels.

‘Our plan is going just as I envisioned. Miss Morality has been drawn into our tractor beam of Patriarchy. She is powerless to resist, and her time as a thorn in our manly sides is over. It’s now time to put stage two of our plan into operation.’ 

There was no humour in his voice, not now, just cold, harsh malice as he detailed the endgame of his devious, woman hating plans.

‘Our friends in the Police and Social services are waiting, we have netted our prey. It’s time we put this wet fish out of her misery. The days of social justice for all are over. Miss Morality is finished. Make the call, and end her for good.’


END OF PART TWO

Miss Morality will return next week (Friday 13th March) in ‘The Tunnels of Intolerance’- Part 3. How can our brave heroine extricate herself from what seems like certain doom?   All will be revealed next week. DON’T MISS IT.

* If any artist would be willing to illustrate this story, then please let me know.

Original fiction: Ms Morality in ‘The Tunnels of Intolerance’- Part One.

Written by: Mark. A. Pritchard
Released on: The Rorshach Rant- 27th February 2015


A thundering on the door was the signal of a new beginning, the start of a day that would change everything for young Ms Eva Truth (real name Elizabeth Ponsolby Holdings). Armed only with her mobile phone she bravely walked down the stairs to investigate just what the jolly hell was going on. By the time she had made the twenty-yard walk the Police were already on the scene. Her speed dialling bravery had saved the day once again.

She opened the door with caution, can of mace in hand, to find three Police cars, numerous Police officers and her handcuffed and embarrassed looking brother Rufus.

‘Oh hi Rufus, what’s up?’ said an empowered and confident Ms Truth.

‘Hi Liz, any chance you can explain to these gentlemen that I’m not the serial rapist you described on the telephone?’ replied a clearly annoyed and exasperated Rufus.

After a quick explanation, some on the spot counselling from a concerned WPC the brave feminist warrior Ms Truth finally allowed her brother to come into her house for a cup of tea, biscuits and a quick chat.

‘Now Rufus, before we begin I have to make things very clear here.’ Started a still shaking (but bravely) Ms Truth as she put the kettle on and made for the chocolate bourbons.

‘You have to understand that you can’t just knock on my door at 10am in the morning and expect me not to be concerned. You have to…..’

‘Wait a second,’ interrupted Rufus. I come around here every Wednesday morning to baby-sit for baby Sojourner and it hasn’t been a problem so far.’

‘Yes, but today is Thursday Rufus, today is Thursday.’

There was a stunned silence in the room, as Rufus came to the awful realisation that an entire day had gone misssing.

‘Oh my word,’ he cried. ‘Whatever could have happened? I feel a bit queazy. I thought it was Wednesday, but it’s actually Thursday??? Oh my mother earth goddess, I think I’m going to faint.’

‘You stay right here bruv, don’t do a thing, don’t even move a muscle,’ replied Ms Truth, now taking charge in a confident female manner. ‘This is a mystery for a super heroine to investigate, and I know just the woman for the job. You stay here. I need to make a call. ’

‘But what about baby Sojourner?’ replied Rufus. ‘Where is she? Is she at her Dad’s, is she….’

But before he could finish the sentence his fiercely determined sister was off, out of the room. There was no time to waste. Patriarchy was a menace that had to be snuffed out immediately, and every second spent talking about babies, children or families was a precious second wasted.

An hour later, and after the upstairs sounds of a shower, hairdryer and Pussy Riot CD, the living-room door flew open, and there she was, the heroine of the masses, the saviour of the offended, the amazingly empowered MS MORALITY.

What a sight it was to behold. Trouser suited, Pink Doctor Martin boots a cute orange balaclava and a little briefcase to show that this was a businesswoman, and not somebody that you should be messing with.

‘Greetings comrade. I hear you have been threatened/slightly offended by a mysterious event that was out of your control, and as a young homosexual gender neutral comrade of the politically correct nation of togetherness I am here to right all wrongs that were done to you.’

Her voice was booming, empowered and impressive, but not in an aggressive way. Young Rufus sat back in awe, quietly clapping his hands like a Dolphin at a theme park.

‘Ohhhh Ms Morality, I can’t believe that you have taken time-out from your duties at the politically correct nation of togetherness to help somebody like me.’

‘Of course comrade, that’s what we are here for. Whenever one of our comrades has suffered we are here to help. So what is the problem? Your sister told me that it was urgent, that you had lost something because of the evil system of white heterosexual patriarchy. Please tell me, calmly, in your own time, what have the evil b******s done to you? ’

After five minutes of explanation our quick-witted heroic detective/investigator/super-heroine determined that a conspiracy was afoot. It couldn’t be the fault of Rufus that he had managed to lose an entire day. He was after all just a single young gay man living all alone in the cold, harsh city. No, something else had to be happening, something bigger that needed to be investigated.

‘This is a most intriguing and complex mystery comrade Rufus. Your sister did the right thing to call me rather than letting you doing anything for your poor, innocent victim self.’ boomed the confident, and attractive (but not in a sexual way) feminist heroine.

‘I detect the intolerant and probably secretly gay workings of master criminal Doctor Homophobial behind what has happened to you. If anybody would have the motivation to cause the unpleasant scene with the Police that so victimised you this morning then it would have to be him.’

‘Oh, how do you know about the Police?’ replied Rufus. ‘I forgot to mention them. I just said that I’d lost a day and thought it was a bit strange.’

‘Ha ha ha, my young friend,’ replied the resplendent superheroine. ‘We are always listening, we are always watching, but just for your own protection of course.’

‘But now, I must be gone. It appears that Doctor Homophobial is up to his old tricks again, and it’s up to the nation of togetherness to stop him. That is our duty. That is our curse. Oh, and you don’t mind if I have a quick look around your flat for clues do you?’

‘Of course not Ms Morality, do you need a key?’ replied a now visibly shaking with excitement Rufus.

‘Ah no, that won’t be necessary. Just thought I’d ask. I’d hate to intrude on your privacy without asking.’

‘But didn’t you just say that you were listening and watching me for my own protection? And where’s my sister gone?’

‘No time for that comrade,’ interrupted a heavily in thought Ms Morality. ‘No time to waste, I must get to the bottom of this intriguing mystery.’

And with a quick nibble on a custard cream, the brave, heroic, towering, empowering superheroine was off into the dangerous mid afternoon traffic to investigate this now deepening mystery.

Meanwhile….deep in the bowels of their mancave of intolerance the evil gang of villains known as the ‘Politically Incorrect Scoundrels’ planned their next move. The leader of the Scoundrels, a particularly evil, devilish and devious character known only as ‘The Dissenter’ spoke up:

‘Stage one of the operation has now been completed my politically incorrect brethren of rogues. The trap has been sprung, and Ms Morality is walking straight into it. Now we move on to stage two of the plan. Operation Disempower is going exactly as planned, and it’s time we turned up the heat on little Ms Morality. Ha ha ha ha.’

The evil, intolerant laugh of the menace to society known as ‘The Dissenter’ echoed menacingly in the mancave of the rogues, and all the while Ms Morality was walking straight into their trap, a trap that could spell the end of her intolerance busting days, forever.


END OF PART ONE


Miss Morality will return next week (Friday 6th March) in ‘The Tunnels of Intolerance’- Part 2. What do the brethren of rogues have planned for her? What exactly is ‘Operation Disempower?’  All will be revealed next week. DON’T MISS IT.


* If any artist would be willing to illustrate this story, then please let me know.