Here's to you, Maggie


Public service announcement (PSA for short, you imbeciles): this picture of me is circulating online. It is not, I repeat, NOT Margaret thatcher, even if that is what the left-wing ‘press’ (fake news) would have you believe. I was never pictured with Maggie, despite our fiery and tempestuous relationship behind closed doors. It was the anniversary of her death recently, so I've been reflecting on our time together and decided to write this message in order to dispel the rumours and finally put some ‘spec on her name.

Maggie and I didn’t always see eye-to-eye, but when all was said and done, we would fall back into each other’s arms. Powerful in government and even more powerful in the bedroom, her penchant for bondage led to my sexual awakening as a young man and informed many of the fetishes that I still hold dear today. She would break me down psychologically until I was no more than a pupa, then build me up again using her command of the English language and deft technique with a quill. Even now, I sometimes wake up in a hot sweat, intoxicated by the distant memory of the musky aroma that used to emanate from her jowls.

I am bringing all of this up now because I feel like this side of Maggie has been largely overlooked by the freewheeling, media fart storm that surrounds her legacy. I was often reduced to tears by her talent for lovemaking, which is more than I can say for any ‘woman’ before or, indeed, since. She could crawl inside a man's soul (anus) and make him her own, until the boundaries of ‘you’ and ‘her’ dissolved into the pure essence of being.

During these uncertain times, I feel like we could all use her talent for expressing complex ideas through dressage and her uncompromising commitment to crushing the poor (North). I’m sure she'd be able to navigate these choppy waters, just as well as she used to navigate the pelvic cavity of my body.

Here’s to you Maggie,
The Right Honourable (dishonourable in the bedroom) Baroness (of my heart) Thatcher.
x
Location: London, UK

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