It was revealed this week that, due to hormone replacement therapy (HRT) supply shortages, women have been forced to turn to the “black market”, buying at several times the prescription price on Facebook or “bartering” with others on social media platforms. This is driven, of course, by fearing the return of menopausal symptoms, which can even lead to you not being able to remember . . . words!
If the shortage becomes yet more acute, where might all this end? Let’s project forward and read the news items that may well start appearing if the “black market” situation worsens.
“A woman with a dry vagina was caught yesterday buying her HRT drugs from a BMW with black-tinted windows in a side alley at 3am. ‘I have tried to wean myself off,’ she said, ‘but my vagina just got drier. Crackled like paper it did.’ She is facing two years in prison for purchasing prescription medication as an illegal street drug and her fear is that if she does jail time, ‘by the end, you’ll be able to turn it into an origami swan, or any other animal of your choosing’. She added: ‘As it is, I know someone who has made a hippo out of hers.’ ”
“Police were called last night to a well-known ‘HRT house’ that locals have been seeking to close down for months. ‘There are disturbances night and day,’ one neighbour said, ‘and discarded Oestrogel pumps just lying there on the pavement. Are these something we want our children to see? Or pick up and play with?’ Another said: ‘This was a nice, peaceful neighbourhood until these middle-aged women moved in. You know a drug drop is imminent as they’re all hanging out the windows frantically fanning themselves. They have no shame at all.’ Police say they will return at a later date as ‘all the women were coming down, and made no sense whatsoever’.”
“On Tuesday last week Jenny, a grandmother from Liverpool, decided to stay up all night and ‘do a whole load of HRT’. She said that she successfully scored in the park after dark — ‘Yo, you got any gear?’ — as ‘I was desperate for a fix’, particularly because ‘my pubis was dead itchy’ and ‘then I just went a bit mad. Patches everywhere.’ She is now seeking help from the relevant authorities as she knows she has to get her habit under control ‘or I might end up like Marjorie, who begs at the ATM outside Sainsbury’s because she has to have a hit every day’. She added: ‘You can tell it’s Marjorie because she’s not as hollow-faced as the other types of addicts. In fact, she has really good, plump skin.’ ”
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“A 58-year-old woman has recounted how she spent most of Saturday night anxiously pacing her flat as her dealer would not pick up the phone. ‘I tried the number over and over,’ she said, ‘while I could feel actual whiskers growing on my chin.’ Her dealer is the friend of a friend of a friend of a friend of a friend, so not a dealer really, she added. She also added that she was worried sick about him: ‘Why wasn’t he answering? Was he OK? Did he need help?’ She says she waited a full ten minutes — ‘I practically had a beard’ — before panicking and calling another friend of a friend of a friend of a friend who is not a dealer really. ‘I know what happens if I don’t do my drugs,’ she said, ‘as I once had a squirrel down there. And it’s not as fun as it sounds.’ ”
“The kingpin of a cartel that trafficked HRT across London and the home counties received a life sentence yesterday. ‘We are determined,’ the judge said, ‘to close down such criminal enterprises and would request that anyone considering buying HRT off the books to prevent early-onset dementia, heart conditions, osteoporosis, hot flushes, night sweats, brain fog, palpitations, low mood, reduced muscle mass, insomnia, recurrent urinary tract infections, headaches, problems with memory and concentration, joint pain, reduced sex drive, painful sex and a general sense of withering on the vine as bits die off will think very carefully about doing without if they can’t source their drugs elsewhere.’ He added: ‘Women could choose to put up and shut up, as they have done for centuries. And no harm done.’ ”
What to expect in a British home
I don’t know if you’ve signed up to house a Ukrainian refugee but I might. I might, even though I fear what the refugee will find in this particular household, and all the ways I will be negatively judged. But I’ve thought about how I could get round that. I’ll just pass everything off as the “British” way of doing things.
Blackened ovenware left to soak for months? We all do that in Britain. Leaving clothes in the tumble dryer and effectively treating it as an extra cupboard? That’s just the British way. Turning the duvet to the “fresh” side for guests? So British! Hiding the nice stuff right at the back of the fridge so no one else gets to it first? You should probably do that yourself, if you want to fit in*. Using a dish sponge for far too long? In Britain we have a saying: “A sponge in the hand is worth two that aren’t.” Allowing the dog to “preclean” the dishwasher plates? That’s why we have dogs in this country!
And if they wish to behave like a British young person? Then, I shall say, drinking a whole carton of Tropicana at the fridge door is a must, as is biting the cheese and putting it back, stepping over the post on your way in and, if you want to establish that yesterday’s underpants are good for another day, you need only give them a cursory sniff. That’s just how it’s done in Britain. I’m ready, I think.
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(*I will be watching out for this, though.)
