Is there anybody there?

"Reports that say that something hasn't happened are always interesting to me, because as we know, there are known knowns; there are things we know we know. We also know there are known unknowns; that is to say we know there are some things we do not know. But there are also unknown unknowns -- the ones we don't know we don't know."
Donald Rumsfeld, chief chicken hawk and war criminal extraordinaire.

The world is a mysterious place, from the silent stone faces of Easter island to the careful precision of the Giza plateau mysterious mysteries abound.
Who among us does not have some strange tale to impart? For when the whole history and purpose of your species is a mystery one will obviously be attracted towards life's many "unknown unknowns"

It was in this spirit of adventure that News direct tasked me with solving one of life's greatest mysteries, the mystery of life after death!!!!!!
Careful research on the subject had led me unfailingly towards the bizarre practice of spiritualism, a Christian sect which became popular in the late 1840's using the writings of 17th century Swedish mystic Emanuel Swedenborg as the basis for a new variation on the ancient Jesus death cult.

Adherents to this new form of Christianity believed that by using a human conduit one could contact the world of the dead and receive messages and blessings from long dead loved ones and ascended spirit masters.
All over the western world spiritualist churches sprang into existence and lured the local populace into virtuous orgies of spiritual communication and relentless voluntary payments. But the craze was not just confined to the new back alley temples of the dead, no dinner party featuring the great and the good of society was complete without an after dinner cigar and a quick seance.
By the late 1920's the wild fire craze of spiritualism had all but burned itself out, but here in the north of England pockets of this craze survived through into the present day and evolved into the modern day phenomenon of the celebrity medium.

To learn more about the work of these modern day necromancers I arranged to meet Paul De la Higginbotham professional medium and the star of channel five's big new Wednesday afternoon hit "The dead say the funniest things!"
The meeting was to be at Paul's newly renovated large Victorian home on the outskirts of Halifax and as I walked up the long tree lined drive past Paul's brand new collection of high performance cars I couldn't help but feel a shiver of nervous anticipation and slight nervousness that he may have a spirit tell him private stuff about "what I like" in a "bedroom sense"

I reached the end of the long gravel path stood before his huge oak and stained glass door and tried to bury at the back of my head "what I like"
I pulled the long wrought iron chain by the door and from inside I heard the chimed consequence, moments later the door creaked open to reveal the blonde highlighted, pink suited Paul De La Higginbotham.
"Ohhh hello love, you must be the dreamboat from that Newsly direction thingimy bob interwebby jobby?"
"That's right, Peter Stock Aitken Waterman.
"Well don't stand out there in the cold Peter, come in!"
I wiped imaginary dirt from my shoes and squeezed tightly past my host who was politely holding the door open for me.
"Oops! Room for a small one!" He screeched as I made my entrance into a fabric bedecked hallway that closely resembled the set from some yet as unmade harem film.
"Just go on through into that room there on your right, yes that one. No dear the right."
Momentarily lost by my need to keep the secret of "What I like" secret I had forgotten which was left and which was right. Paul closed the heavy door and before the fabrics strewn across the hall could settle down he was behind me cupping a bottom cheek and steering me towards the room he had originally told me to enter.
"Ohh that's like a little rock cake."
I swerved my hips to remove his hand from my "little rock cake" and rushed into the room, waited until Paul took his seat and then sat as far away as possible from him and carried on working on hiding the secret of "What I like"

The room seemed to be a continuation of the harem theme I had encountered in the hallway. I gestured at the room with a nod of my head and said "Nice, you decorate it yourself?"
"Yes, decorating is one of my little hobbies"
"You're very good, I haven't seen this much purple velvet since I saw Barry White live."
"I wanted to create a environment my clients would feel comfortable in."
"Zebra skin can be very reassuring."
"Yes."
"So Mr De La Higginbotham..."
"Oh please call me Paul, you're not my bank manager."
"No I'm a reporter." I said puzzled.
"What dear? No you misunderstand me all I was saying was there is no need for the formality, we are all friends here sweetie."
I concentrated harder on hiding the secret of "What I like" and nodded at him. He smiled a sympathetic smile and we sat for a while in silence as I struggled and grimaced trying to bury the secret of "What I like"
He folded his delicately manicured hands across his already folded knee and ventured "So Peter my love, do you want to start this interview now?"
I uncrossed my eyes, shook my head, checked the secret of "What I like" was still buried and asked "Are oranges really not the only fruit?"
He looked somewhat taken aback and managed "Pardon?"
I cleared my head and then my throat "What?"
"What do you mean?"
"What?"
"You asked me if oranges aren't really the only fruit."
"Did I?"
"Yes you did lovey."
I shook the puzzlement from my face "Well I didn't mean to say that out loud, what I meant to ask you was how do you go about contacting the dead."
He made a visual effort to forget my verbal faux pas and said "Well ever since I was ten years old I have had an old Indian spirit guide who has become my channel to the other world and taught me the ways of the dead."
"He speaks English?"
"Yes."
"Do you find it hard to understand his accent? Mr Patel who runs my local corner shop has a very thick accent some mornings I just nod at whatever he says, actually thats why I have a five year subscription to dog care monthly, the professional dog groomers trade magazine. I don't even own a dog."
"No you misunderstand me lovey, he is a native American, not an Indian."
"Oh ok, whats his name?"
"Squatting beaver."
I laughed.
"What?"
"Squatting beaver!!!"
"Yeah, that's his name it's a very old traditional name for native American healers."
"You sure he isn't taking the piss?"
"I don't think so why?"
"Well beaver! Squatting beaver!"
"And?"
"Well beaver is a euphemism for.....you know."
He looked as blank as a new blackboard "No, what?"
"You know....lady parts."
He pursed is thin lips "Well I can assure you I know absolutely nothing about those!"
I nodded sympathetically in agreement with him "Yeah I suppose you don't."

At this point I felt I was losing him so I employed the old interviewers trick of pretending I was actually interested in what he had to say and asked "So this Indian fellow, crouching pussy, does he sort of line the dead up in queues and sort them out for you?"
"It's Squatting beaver!"
"Oh yeah sorry, I have a lot on my mind." I checked the secret of "What I like" was still safe and asked "So is he sort of like a feather strewn dead secretary?"
"No he isn't! And I would ask you to show an appropriate level of respect to a great teacher and healer or I'm afraid I will have to ask you to leave!"
My trick hadn't worked as well as I'd hoped so I used the trick that works very well with angry women "I'm sorry please forgive me I have been an idiot, you are of course right."
His eyes softened "Ok but I would ask you please to show more respect for me and my spirit guide."
I became a picture of contrition "I'm sorry I honestly meant no offence to you or Crouching....."
His eyes narrowed into slit of suspicion, I verbally checked myself and after a quick check of the secret of "What I like" I continued "......Squatting beaver, It's just I'm new to all this and I'm always uncomfortable round minorities, I don't want to commit a racial faux pas and upset Mr Beaver."
He looked at me unconvinced "Squatting beaver isn't actually here right now."
"Oh where is he?"
"He is in the spirit world."
"The new off licence near the McDonalds on Equator street?
"No! THE spirit world!!! The place where all our souls go post mortem."
"Post what?"
"Post mortem!!!!!!"
"Third class post?"
"AFTER DEATH!!!!!!"
"Oh."

He placed a pale hand across his red brow "I think I have a migraine coming on."
I needed to get him back on my side quickly "Isn't cro....Squatting beaver a healer? Why don't you summon him up and we can kill two birds with one stone, I can get a look at how you do....whatever...it is....you ....sort of....do and while he is here he can have a go at your migraine."
He fluttered his eyes "Very well, I shall summon him from beyond the darkened veils of time and bid him to come forth into this veil of tears and so enlighten our mortal darkness with the brilliant light of his age old wisdom."
"And bring his "spirit pills" for your migraine don't forget that....you don't want him getting here and then having to go all the way back because he forget his migraine medicine.
Paul had closed his eyes and was now gently swaying side to side while letting out a low pitched "OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO.......OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO"
I watched his performance open mouthed, checked the secret of "What I like" was safely tucked away and said "Blimey!"
"OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO......OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO, OWWWWWWWWWWW....OWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW"
"Blimey he's changed tone now!"
"OOOOOOOO.....Is there anybody there???? OOOOOOWWWWWWW"
I looked around "Yeah me, I'm here!"
"OOOOOOOO...Is there anybody there??? Knock twice for yes......once for no...OOOOOWWW"
I looked around me again, shrugged and knocked twice on the wall. Paul squinted open one eye and hissed "Not you you idiot! I'm trying to contact the other side!"
"Oh Sorry."
"OOOOOOOOOOO...Reveal yourself to me oh great Squatting beaver!!!! Use me as your channel into this world!!! Make me your spirit bitch!!!!!!!!!OWWWWWW"
As these last words dropped from his spittle flecked lips a strange calmness descended onto his face and a disquieting stillness filled his body. I looked around me, leaned forward and poked his knee "Paul? Paul?"
Paul placed a steady hand on each knee and in a strong manly voice quite unlike his own said "Paul is not here now."
"Who are you? The answering machine?"
"I am Squatting beaver, medicine man of the Lakota and fellow traveler of the great spirit bear."
"Oh right...errr.....cold out.....said on the news we might have snow."
The spirit Indian inhabiting Paul sat silently unmoved by my attempts at small talk. I decided to play along and question the Indian, after first checking that the secret of "What I like" was quite safe.
I put on my thinking face and after a few moments I said "So......Crouchi...errrr Mr beaver, How's the ..errr spirit world?"
Paul's beaver filled face didn't flinch and his lips hardly moved as he said "The spirit world never changes it is the one constant in this universe of eternal flux."
"Oh.....get out much?"
"What is your question for me."
"Oh I didn't really have one."
Paul sat impassively silent so I searched my memory banks for the eternal questions that plague man "Can Arsenal win the title this year?"
"This question that you ask can only be answered in the negative, to win this title you speak of they must first acquire a man who will stand firm and be as a wall against the tides of the sea."
"A defensive midfielder? That's a tenner wasted then, I knew 16 to 1 was to good to be true."
Squatting beaver fell silent again.
"Oh here's one, why did the chicken cross the road?"
"To get to the other side."
"Oh you've heard it."
"Yes I'm dead not daft."
"Soooooooooo....can't really think of nowt else I wanna ask you....unless you wanna give me the lotto results, do ya?"
"No."
"Thought not."
Paul's face twitched rapidly and let out a long sighed "OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO"
I looked around.
"OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO"
"Paul??"
"OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO...OWWWWWWWWWW"
"Paul??"
"OOOOOOO" his eyes opened slowly and as they focused weakly on the room he weakly whispered "Was he here?"
"Who?"
Paul gave me a confused look "Squatting beaver? Did he come unto this plane of existence?"
"Oh him? Yeah."
"What message from beyond the thin veil of reality did he impart to us ignorant mortals?"
"Errrr...he didn't say much really."
"What message did he impart?"
"Nowt really just said Arsenal need a defensive midfielder. which, pardon my French, is more the realm of the bleeding obvious than the mysterious realm of spiritual knowledge."
"He didn't say anything else?"
"No not really."
"Oh he usually has some deep spiritual wisdom to impart."
"Must have been having an off day."
"Yeah maybe."
"Anyhow...I think that will be all I need Paul."
"Are you sure? I could get out my crystal balls and let you rub them."
"Errrrr....not right now thanks, I have a train to catch at a quarter past."

Paul walked me through the satiny silkiness of his hall and prised open the huge door for me "Well thank you for your time Paul and please Thank Squatting beaver for me."
"Oh don't mention it lovey, the pleasure was all ours, you just make sure you tell the world that we are here to help them along life's rocky path and to bring a little comfort into their grey pain filled existences."
"Will do." I stepped over the doors threshold and into the bracing afternoon wind. I turned back to thank Paul once more and was greeted by the sight of him holding his red tense forehead in one hand and speaking as though he was on the telephone.
"Ok....yep...ok I got it ...ok thank you Squatting beaver...yes I'll tell him...thank you lovey."
He removed his hand from his forehead and opened his eyes "Squatting beaver wants me to tell you to stop doing what you are doing, it's filthy and possibly illegal, so don't do it!"
As the shock seeped from my face I whispered in a hoarse voice "I don't know... what you're talking about."
"Yes you do you filthy sod!" And with that Paul closed the mysterious door of the spirit world and left the world with one more confused soul late for an early train.

News direct meets Sir James Dyson

After the humiliating debacle of the Reese "Chinny" Witherspoon interview I am pleased to be able to announce that News direct is finally back on track interviewing the people that matter, the movers and shakers of our 21st century world.

Today's honoured guest is none other than Sir James Dyson, inventor of the.....coloured plastic vacuum cleaner and other coloured plastic ...errrrr....stuff.
Not useless stuff though like, Oh I don't know, a signed DVD copy of legally blonde 2.
No! Sir James Dyson invents stuff! Well not so much invents stuff as copies stuff already invented in funky coloured plastics.
Which is why it is my immense pleasure to welcome Sir James dyson to News direct.

News direct- Sir James, your worship, such a great pleasure to meet a man of quality for a change. You wouldn't believe some of the people they make me interview. Not quality members of the aristocracy like you my majestyiousness.

Sir James Dyson- Please call me James.

Nd- Oh thank so much your holiness...oops, James. It really is a pleasure to meet you ....James...sir.

SJD- Thank you. Can we get a move on I'm flying to Shanghai this evening.

Nd-Oh of course your lordshipyness, I mean James......... Jimmy. Jimbob. The Jimster.The Jimeister........ The Jiminator, you know like the terminator!
Obviously I'm not saying you are an evil cyborg sent from the future to destroy mankind!
You're not are you?

SJD- No I'm not. Can we get on please?

Nd- Get on what? Oh sorry "get on" as in get on with the interview. I thought you wanted us to ge....anyway, where did I put those quessssssss.............tions? Where did I put themmmmmmm.
Can you stand up a minute please your Jimmyness?

SJD- Why?

Nd- I think you're sat on the in depth interview I prepared.

SJD- You mean this crumpled piece of paper is your "In depth interview"?

Nd- Yeah, can you just pass it over please? Thank you your lordshipness......ness.

SJD- Jesus!

Nd- Jesus? I thought you said it was Jimmy?

Nd- No I didn't say it was Jesus and I didn't say it was Jimmy either!

Nd- You did! When we first started you said "Don't call me your holinessnessnessss, call me Jimmy boy or Jimbo, as in Rambo."

SJD- I said call me James.

Nd- Well anyway lets not quibble over names and titles, we all have them. I was voted third best robotic dancer at the Chief Mangosuthu Buthelezi school of advanced wood working and embroidery. You don't hear me bragging about it and insisting people use my "Official title"
We are quite alike you and me Jimcat.

SJD- Can we get on please, I really do have to be in Shanghai this evening.

Nd-Hey what would you call Shanghai, if it had like no tall buildings?

SJD- Pardon?

Nd- What would you call Shanghai if it had no tall buildings? It's a joke, go with it you'll love it!

SJD- I don't want to go with it.

Nd-You don't want people to think you're a man with millions but no sense of humour do you? Go on enjoy yourself, you've worked hard you deserve at least some fun. Go on.

SJD- Ok I don't know.

Nd- Don't know what?

SJD- Your joke thing.

Nd- Do it properly!

SJD- I don't know, what would you call Shanghai if it had no tall buildings?

Nd- Lowhai!!!!!

SJD- What?

Nd- Lowhai!!! Oh no ... Hang on I got it wrong, it should have been Shanglow!!!!!!

SJD-Ok.

Nd-Shanglow!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

SJD- Yeah very good.

Nd- See what I did? I changed hai at the end of Shanghai into low! Shanglow! not "high" low!!! No tall buildings! low!

SJD-Very clever.

Nd- It was wasn't it! The way I changed it round like that, I'm really good at stuff like that.

SJD- I'm very impressed but could we get on with the interview, I really do have to be in sha...

Nd-Shang....low?

SJD- Well done, yes.

Nd-We better push on then if you have to be in.....Shanglow this evening. We can't have you late for....Shang.....low!

SJD- Stop it now.

Nd- Sorry.

SJD- Questions?

Nd-Right, wheres my bit of paper? Right then lets get started! Jimmy me auld mate Jimmy, What first gave you the idea to make yellow and grey Vacuum cleaners you could see through and sell for an absolute bloody fortune?

SJD- That wasn't what I did.

Nd-Yes it is.

SJD- No it's not.

Nd- Is.

SJD- I invented a revolutionary bagless vacuum cleaning system.

Nd-That's what I said.

SJD-Just move on, next question.

Nd-Next questionnnnnnn......el nexto questerinooooooooo.........let meeeee.......seeeeee. Ah yeah heres one under the strawberry jam stain. What is the funda..mac funda... mutionn? Fundicaltick, no. Can you see what that says?

SJD-Where?

Nd-Just there written underneath that inconvenient jam stain. I swear I will sack that secretary one day! Grrrr.

SJD- "What is the fundamental urge behind invention?"

Nd- Errrr...is it showing off to girls?

SJD- What?

Nd-The fundamental urge behind invention, is it showing off to girls?

SJD- Are you asking me or telling me?

Nd-I'm asking you, I think, I'm not sure I'm lost.

SJD- Well if someone were to ask me that question I would have to say that I believe the fundamental urge behind invention to be the quest for unknown knowledge, a desire to seek out and create solutions to the problems we all face in our everyday liv.........

Nd-Like the ape in "Dr Snugglesworth's big adventure"

SJD- Pardon?

Nd- Like the ape in "Dr Snugglesworth's big adventure."

SJD- What?

Nd- You said the fundamental urge behind all invention is the desire to seek out unknown knowledge.

SJD- Yeah.

Nd-Like Dr Snugglesworth.

SJD- Who's Dr Snugglesworth?

Nd- The ape in Dr Snugglesworth's big adventure.

SJD-And why is this relevant?????

Nd- Well Dr Snugglesworth was an inventor too, He invented a machine that could take him anywhere in the universe that had bananas! Come to think of it I think the fundamental urge behind Dr Snugglesworth's amazing inventiveness was the urge to eat bananas! That crazy ape would swap his own top hat for a banana!

SJD-Right that's it I have had enough now, I really can't waste anymore of my time talking to you! I have to be in Shang....

Nd-Low???

SJD- Idiot!

Man! I feel like a woman

Sometimes mother nature can be a cruel and sadistic jester. We have all seen the photos of two headed piglets, hair covered babies, bearded ladies and perhaps most disgustingly of all, the nine legged Octopus.
Although most people are familiar with these types of accidental oddities, they do still have the power to shock and repulse us for somewhere deep within our primitive being we unconsciously think, there but for the grace of god go I.

But what about the mistakes of nature that aren't as obvious or as visible as a six testicled dog, a black orange or a carrot shaped like Toulouse Lautrec?
What about the psychological typos mother nature has made on the great key board of life?
The psychopaths, sociopaths, bipolars, anorexics, schizophrenics, multiple personalities, neurotics and Manchester united fans?
What about these poor unfortunates? Are we as a society meant to ignore them, lock them up or ridicule them? Or are we as human beings meant to care for these people as we would a dog born with two dicks?

We here at News direct believe that every living creature upon this small blue planet of ours deserves respect and understanding and it was in this heady atmosphere of the nobility of life, that News direct sent me forth into the world to discover everything I could about that most misunderstood of creatures, the Transsexual.

Of all natures freaks, transsexuals are probably the least understood by the general public. In ancient times, as in modern, they were often castigated and shunned by their uncaring communities.
That is not to say there were not places within the ancient world that did not shun these poor unfortunates, Asia in particular had vast pockets of transsexual friendly territory.
Indeed in some places within ancient Asia this toleration gradually evolved into veneration, these half male, half female creatures became living symbols of the duality of nature and the perfumed examples of the ying and yang concept prevalent in many differing forms across the continent.

When early European sailors first made contact with these exotic lands they were amazed and then mystified by these strange temple denizens, so much so that early accounts of them are said to have been the basis of the mermaid myths, for the humble sailors not having adequate words to describe what they had seen could only whisper in shocked fascination about a creature they had seen with the top half of a woman and on the bottom just a huge powerful tail!

So it was with this same sense of awe and a little trepidation that I began my research into the curious phenomena of the modern day transsexual.
Untold hours of internet research had thrown me from Chix wit dix.com to bedicked bitches! and then perhaps most bizarrely of all to a site devoted to lovers of narcoleptic ladyboys called Tranquil transsexuals.com.
Although these vast repositories of free girly boy filth gave me some idea as to what I was getting myself into it was not really the angle I was searching for, for as regular readers will know, we here at News direct are nothing if we are not sensitive.

This is why I was delighted to come across (No pun intended! No really! I hadn't even realised it was a pun! I hate puns, they are so easy to throw out there. I would never pun during a serious investigative story like this one. To fill this article with filthy puns and sniggering knob gags is way below my dignity and anyone who suggests I would deserves nothing but my contempt and never ending enmity.
That's the trouble with people nowadays, all they want is cheap degrading puns and childish knob gags, well I for one don't believe that's what the internet is for, I believe it is here to nurture us and lead us with digital dignity into a dazzling future of byte based knowledge. It wasn't like this in the beginning you know, the internet nowadays is just full of sick perverts and Star wars geeks not the noble seekers of truth, justice and knowledge like you and me, no most people are only online for the German pissing porn and pictures of cats dressed as Hitler.)
the website of an organisation called Time for a change! Which as their website said was "A charitable organisation set up with donations from the United nations, The European union and various Transsexual porn companies all with the intended aim of making transsexualism more acceptable within the mainstream of society."

The international headquarters of Time for a change! was located in the picturesque olde worlde charm of a Doncaster industrial estate, just off the A630 near the new carpet warehouse show room.
The headquarters was not what I was expecting at all, instead of a modern steel and glass office building with smiling receptionists and bland corporate art, all I saw before me was a small factory unit on a wind swept industrial estate.
But closer examination of the plaque confirmed to me that this was indeed the world headquarters of Time for a change!
There was no door as such so the conundrum of where to knock was solved by me banging my cold hand on the large roll down metal door before me.
Until my banging was rewarded with the sound of gears followed by the slow upward scroll of the aluminum wall.

As the wide door inched slowly upwards I bent myself double and tried to steal a glimpse of what I would soon be granted for free, but disappointedly all I could steal was the sight of a cold concrete floor and a shiny pair of red six inch stiletto heels crushing the lipsticked filter of a now smoked cigarette.
Two long minutes later and the door had crawled high enough for me to bend underneath its corrugated facade and meet the stilettoed chair woman of the charity, Miss Fontana St Clairveux, a statuesque six foot five blonde wearing a tiger print mini dress and a warm red smile.
"Mr Astley?" she asked in a pleasant dark brown voice.
Standing straight, I thrust my hand straight into her large paw and said "Yes, please call me Rick."
Miss St Clairveux smiled a slightly amused max factor smile and waved her huge hand in the direction of a old sofa crammed into a small corner of the large lock up "Would you like to take a seat Rick?"
I looked across the frozen concrete floor to the surreal homely corner and then managed to nod before making my way across to the sagging leather settee lit only by a single standard lamp.

I sat down at the closest end and then grabbed the arm tightly and bounced up as Miss St Clairveux placed her self heavily next to me.
"Oh sitting right there are you?" I smiled, nervously.
"Well I feel it's more intimate don't you?" She said as she twirled the hair above my ear with a red painted nail.
I leaned my head away from the toying nail and after clearing my throat said "Well yeah It's certainly....errr intimate, is it hot in here or is it just me?"
Her red taloned hand stroked heavily upon my thigh as she sighed a marilynesque "Well Mr Astley, some like it hot."
I looked round the room, hoping for a glance of some unknown rescuer I knew would never race across the pitted concrete and whisk me away to a land were uncomfortable situations are known only in fairy tales and myths.
"I don't" I squeaked, while trying to remove the hand now tightly gripping my inner thigh.
"You don't what Mr Astley?"
"I don't like it hot."
"I'm sure there were a lot of things you didn't like until you tried them."
"Nope everything I didn't like before I tried it, I didn't like after I tried it either, with the exception of spam and peanut butter fritters strangely enough."
"Come come Mr Astley, I'm sure a man like you could get to like most things if you just had the courage to try them."
"No I'm quite set in my ways, I still refuse to call marathons, snickers, thank you anyway."
Miss St Clairveaux leaned in even closer and for a moment I felt the moistness of a warm lip on my ear before she breathed into it "I'm only teasing you Mr Astley, you're not my type at all."

The deep rumble of her laughter echoed heavily through the lock up as she shuffled her self up to the other end of the sofa "I'm sorry for teasing you, but I just wanted to dispel the notion that all transsexuals are voracious man eaters out to corrupt innocent straight men."
I wiped my sweat laden brow with my jacket sleeve "Oh yeah I knew what you were doing, as soon as you started I thought to myself, I bet she is trying to dispel the notion that all transsexuals are voracious man eaters out to corrupt innocent straight men."
"Well Mr Astley, you are obviously a man of the world."
"Oh yeah, I've been around, I was in the boy scouts for ten years. You don't spend ten years in the forces without learning a thing or two about the world!"
Miss St Clairveaux leaned forward and I quickly leaned back "I do like a man in uniform."
Still leaning back I managed "I'm not in the scouts now!"
"Shame."
"I had to leave after the incident with the scoutmaster's poodle, a Polaroid camera and a loose woggle."

After ten more minutes of me putting Miss St Clairveaux at her ease I began to delve into the intricacies, secrets and mores of the transsexual world.
"So when did you discover you were a woman? Did you realise suddenly that you like to talk a lot and buy shoes?"
"No I didn't just discover I was a woman, I have always been a woman."
I gave her a puzzled look before the clarity of understanding drifted across my features "Ohhhhh I feel such an idiot!! I thought you were a tranny!!!" I moved closer up the sofa towards her "I thought because you were running this tranny thing that you were one! And you must admit you are quite a big girl! Jesus I feel such an idiot! I do like it hot!!!!!"
"You misunderstand me Mr Astley What I meant to convey to you was that even when I was very young I always felt like I was a girl trapped inside a boy's body."
"Oh right, so you are a tranny?"
"Yes Mr Astley I am a transsexual."
"Oh in that case I don't then"
"You don't what?"
"I don't like it hot."
"You see Mr Astley, this is what my organisation is all about. We want to dispel the common myths associated with transsexuals and present ourselves to the world as we actually are, just normal everyday people."
"Oh ok, so what did you do before you......errr you know......you becam....decocked."
"Well before I began living full time as a woman I was in a very high powered testosterone fueled business making high powered life and death decisions everyday, oh and by the way I haven't decocked."
"What did you do?"
"I was a junior colourist at Toni and Guys in Rotherham."
"Why haven't you decocked yet"
"Not all transsexuals.....decock, as you so delicately put it. I enjoy having a cock and would be lost without it.
"But what about doing...sex, you know if you wanted to do it with a ....you know ...a man."
"Well that is why I had my balls removed and my scrotum made into a vagina."
"You had your sac made into a vagina?????"
"No you idiot! You see this is the kind of ignorance we are constantly fighting against."
"Yeah I knew that I was just giving you the chance to demonstrate what it can be like, you know when you have to talk to idiots and people who aren't very smart and stuff."

Miss St Clairveaux smiled and then with a hand swept casually through her long blonde hair she asked "Is that it Mr Astley? Do you need anymore?"
"Errrrr no not really, If I do need anything else I'll just do what I usually do."
"Get back in touch with me to arrange another interview?"
"No I'll make it up."
"Oh right."
"Fancy a quick pint?"
"I'm a lady I don't drink pints, but I will join you for a banana daiquiri and Taboo splashed with Cointreau and Malibu in a tall glass over ice."
"You're on! But you're buying and if there are any hot chicks in the pub, your my sister right."

Meeting Miss St Clairveaux taught me that when all is said and done people are just people, some are tall, some are short, some are ginger, and some even have one leg. But overall the biggest lesson I learned from my meeting with Miss St Clairveaux was never try to out drink a transsexual, they drink like squaddies.