I read the news today, oh boy.

A man died today. A couple of years ago he raped a woman. Immediately the interbred small island population rose in his defence and gossiped that the woman liked her drink. Funny that because I drove behind the man once. His car was all over the narrow winding country road. I stopped at the village shop to implore the owner to phone the police for danger was abroad.  Silly me. Eyes shifted downwards. How brave that very young woman was. Anyway there was no court case nor imprisonment but the man was sent into exile for a year and less. His job was kept open. He died face down in his own vomit and was thereafter hailed as a good body.

The news reported how an old man beheaded the corpse of his old woman partner he’d just murdered then chopped up her head into little pieces to flush down the loo in London in the twenty first century.
Unbeknown to the head chopping murderer the woman, described the judge, had been having sexually explicit conversations with a man online. She was between a rock and a hard stone, both men wanting a piece of her.

Meanwhile a woman is bereft because she has to leave her child for two days out of seven with close family  in order to qualify for her maternity benefit by returning to work as a cleaner two minutes from her inherited house.

I need to feel sorry for someone. Which person will I choose?

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