A dragon in winter

A Dragon in Winter Chapter 6

Chapter 6

I was not watching the TV, but tapping on the lap-top in the half light of a dimmed lamp and the flickering screen Jessica watched. I felt the bed quiver. Jess made a huffing noise and a body-shake of disgust.

"Another programme by men, for men, about men. To push their egos up like their penises."

I had heard the complaint before - many times. Was it worth enjoining the argument once more? The credits of the offending programme rolled up the screen.

"But a good half of those are women. Producer, writer, actresses and such."

Still looking at the screen she said, "Directed by a man, shot by a camera - MAN -, marketed by a company run by men."

"Ok. Say you're right. Half the audience are women. How come they don't get what they want? If you're so certain of the things men and women want, why's it you've been making the same complaint for twenty years of rampant feminism?"

"Society's not feminised. Glass ceilings everywhere."

"Maybe - but not at Asda's shelves or the video shop or behind the TV zapper. Every entertainment company plays for the biggest audience - so, if it can get the unsatisfied half of the audience, why aren't there more TV programmes that you want to see?"

"Bloody men fighting a rearguard action against women. Do you know what they did at QE's Grammar School?"

"No. About what?"

"To get the boys to take an interest in the GCE Shakespeare set play they put on a nude version of the Tempest."

"So what did the women teachers say or do? Obviously nothing. Your men fighting a rearguard action is a conspiracy theory - and that's crap. You need too many people working together with real clout, creating and organising, pursuing an objective. People aren't like that. Explanations have to allow for idleness and inertia. That's how the mass reacts. It's what multinational companies depend on. Their customers don't ask questions, they're too caught up with the day to day. It's simpler to say women are wimps and don't think about these things, and vacantly accept what's put in front of them. Face it - if women clamped their legs together they could get anything done - or stopped."

Jessica sighed, "You may be right. Although I hate it."

She picked up the Radio Times and examined the page for the day, squinting in the dim light. Damien alighted in a shimmering twinkle of acid green sparks on the top of the TV. Jessica didn't shift a muscle. This time the TV wasn't affected.

"There is another possibility, Jeffery," he said amiably.

He had not shown himself to Jessica and I was damned if I would talk to him and trash a rare opportunity of conversation with Jess.

"Now Jeffery. Come along. I wish to discuss this with you."

I shook my head.

"You know I can compel."

I shook my head more vigorously and pointed to Jessica.

"Stop fidgeting," said Jessica irritably.

"Sorry. Itchy skin. I'll go and get a drink. Want anything?"

"Oh - get me a whisky."

She passed me her glass and in so doing looked at me.

"What's the matter with you? Seeing ghosts?"

"Nun-no. Just a bit - er - stressed up."

"Writing on your damned lap-top? Don't make me laugh. You keep telling me you don't get enough time for it."