She just wants to be normal I know, but that’s difficult verging on impossible when you have a feminist, socialist mother mouthing off about the Royal Family, organised religion and David Cameron while you’re trying to read the latest Jacqueline Wilson in the back of the car.

Today in Brownies they celebrated the Queen being the longest reigning monarch or whatever it was.

‘Did you know,’ Alula announces, ‘that when the Queen got married the Guides in Australia sent all the dried fruit for her wedding cake as they were living on rations here in England.’

‘Oh PER-LEASE,’ I screech. ‘You really think the BILLIONAIRE royal family, with all their obscene wealth and castles and priceless art collection and the Crown Jewels were on rations during and after the war? You think they couldn’t find some raisins and currants for a cake?!’

Alula rolls her eyes, wishing no doubt that she hadn’t mentioned it.

‘I like our Prime Minister,’ she comes up with next. ‘He’s good.’

‘What?!’ I blurt loudly. What on earth is she talking about? Is Brownies turning into a recruiting ground for the young conservatives? I know it’s a Tory stronghold in these parts but now I’m worried. Are they perhaps slipping something in the water? How else can you explain such indoctrination… unless of course she’s being contrarian and trying to wind me up.

‘Why do you always have to be so loud and shouty about politics and women and religion?’ Alula yells at me.

‘Because,’ I splutter, ‘they’re important issues. I’m passionate about politics and things that affect women’s rights. I get angry when I see unfairness, like rich people trying to make life easier for the rich and harder for the poor and men trying to control women’s bodies and choices. And so should you!’

‘But you can’t tell me not to like the Prime Minister or the Queen.’

‘The prime minister put his willy in a pig’s mouth.’

‘What? That’s disgusting.’

‘Hah!’ I yell victorious. ‘Now do you still think he’s good?’


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