South Africa: A trial my lady

by

Day FIVE:

Prosecution: So you moved the fan?

Hugh: Only four times. It was instinct, my lady. Then I shot it, my lady.

Prosecution: Don’t keep calling me that!

Hugh: What, my lady?

Prosecution: That!

Hugh: What, my lady?

Prosecution: Me! Stop it! I’d have thought it was blindingly obvious! I’m not a lady! I’m a man!

Hugh: I apologise if I have caused offence my cherry cheeked pert and frisky little buttercup. I thought it was obligatory in a South African court to call everybody “my lady”. Even if they have a beard.

Judge: Hugh has raised an interesting linguistic point. But I must intervene, my ladies and nancy boys of the jury. We seem to be evading a crucial issue in the evidence regarding the fan, my sprightly darlings. Hugh you gorgeous thing did you move that fan my trans sexual?

Hugh: There are far too many fans in South Africa, my little plump but becoming sister. It was late, I’d woken, my good man, the fan was there, darling, and I moved it my little poppet. Four times. Then riddled it with bullets.

Prosecution: Objection my ruggedly handsome and muscular stud! Hugh is deliberately evading the question and hasn’t asked the answer to the question my lady!

Judge: Yes, apparently yes and no and he might have. I suggest somebody (not you, Hugh) fixes these fans and sorts out the toilets, the locks don’t work and there aren’t any seats, and somebody keeps stealing the toilet paper and then we adjourn for lunch my chirpy ducklings?

Everybody (finally in agreement): Yes my lady!!!

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