Two apparently-innocuous vanilla sentences have made me smile recently. The first was on the tube – an ad for a dating agency, that read:
“He texted me before the date and my tummy got the good sort of butterflies.”
Needless to say, I spent the rest of the journey thinking about a girl with the wrong sort of butterflies – called out of class because “the headmaster wants to see you in his study”; walking nervously along the empty corridors, realising she’d been caught; waiting outside his office, dreading the inevitable punishment; the door swinging open as he told her to come inside…
—
On Saturday, my vanilla email account received an email:
“Exclusive Offer To See The Governess For Just £15”
It’s a play, apparently. But I can’t help but hope that some young ladies on the theatre’s distribution list might have squirmed nicely at the prospect of being called to see a strict governess, and of the sound over-the-knee hairbrush spanking that might have resulted…