Our regular guest contributor has yet again stepped into the breech whilst rubiesandduels is busy nursing an injured horse.
Thank you Stephen W for this take on personal identity.

“Nurse, I don’t seem to have the next patient’s notes.”

“Yes doctor I know, sorry I meant to tell you, there has been

some major mix-up in the records department, they say it’s a

computer glitch of some kind…”

“This is intolerable. We are a Gender Selection department, the

sensitive nature of our work means accurate records are

paramount. Sorry, I know it’s not your fault Nurse Simms – send

the next person in, if you would be so kind.”

Nurse Simm ushered in a nervous looking man.

“Good morning, I’m Doctor Hardy and you are errr…”

“Jonny, Jonny Breeze.”

“Well Mr Breeze, you don’t mind if I call you Mr. Breeze, only

some of our, err patients, sometimes prefer another name…”

“Like what, what’s wrong with my name.”

“Oh nothing, nothing at all. I take it you have thought long and

hard about the drugs you will take this afternoon and you are

sure in your own mind.”

“Yes, I’ve known since around the age of 4, that I was in the

wrong body. I was watching the Telly one day and I realized that’s

how I want to be and look.”

“That’s quite unusual Mr. Breeze. You were only four years of age,

when you decided you wanted the body of a woman and all that

that entails.”

“The body of a what?” Exclaimed Jonny. “No, no. Giraffe.”

“Giraffe. You want the body of a Giraffe.”

“Look don’t you start, I have enough of this at home, what with

the neighbours…”

“Neighbours?” queried Doctor Hardy.

“Next door reckons it’ll knock thousands off the value of his

property. We can do what we like with our own home. When he

saw we’d replaced our front door with brand new 18 ft double doors

in preparation like, for my err change, he did his nut. We’ve had all

the ceilings raised obviously…”

“Obviously,” echoed Doctor Hardy.

“Mum and Dad are OK with it now. Continued Jonny,” Mum

reckons she always new. Dad took it hard. He had my name down

for the darts team down at the Rat and Handbag…”

‘Rat and Handbag?” said the Doctor Hardy.

“Yes, it’s our local. I’ve nothing against darts, apart from the

hypodermic type of course, may have to get used to those.

“What about your local community, do you think you’ll fit in, in?

err. Where is it you live Mr. Breeze?”

“Ibstock” replied Jonny.

“How do you think they will take to a giraffe in Ibstock? And in

the work place?”

“Well obviously I’ll have to leave The Department of Work and

Pensions. I’m lining something up at a Garden Centre in Blaby.”

“And what about socially, what will you do for friends and


“Well there are clubs that cater for us, as I’m sure you are aware

Doctor. Likeminded persons gathering in convivial and genial

company. Attenborough’s is our favourite”

“What, there are others out there with similar aspirations?”

“Course, at Attenborough’s we have people who want to be

Wildebeest, zebras and a couple with their heart set on being

a mating pair of Thompson Gazelle’s.

“Was it the neck?” asked Doctor Hardy. You know that first

attracted you to the giraffe? Or is it its little tuffty horns and long

slender legs?”

“No, none of them. It’s the eyes. Have you ever seen a pair of

giraffe eyes? Not just looked at, but seen. Black as night with lashes

to die for.”

“Well, yes I do know what you mean… where exactly is this


About cathi rae

50ish teacher & aspiring writer and parent of a stroppy teenager and carer for a confused bedlington terrier and a small selection of horses who fail to shar emy dressage ambitions. Interested in contemporary fiction but find myself returning to PG Wodehouse when the chips are down View all posts by cathi rae

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