Brexit The Planet Hy Man Way.
Dive into Pete’s log, an android from planet Hy Man.
He has a way of looking at things that has you wondering, laughing, and at times, glad you’re not a robot on a strange planet.
Pete is a robot that bends like playdough, smells like something familiar and, for those into licking… tastes like something you’d like to lick again…
Mex has licked once, by mistake, in the dark. It’s a story involving a power cut, candles, and a storage heater. A story both Mex and her robot Pete agreed to “keep to themselves’ as the licking of robots by a Man Spy is strictly prohibited on planet Hy Man and, judging by Bunnies’s reaction, not much admired on earth.
Please read on...
I have spent the last month listening to the radio while learning to drive and my confusion has reached greater depth than when Bunny tried to explain to me the “keep em keen treat em mean” approach favoured by both her and her so-called platonic pal Don.
A platonic relationship which as Woody maintains is as plausible as him being a “six-foot giant,” and as Woody struggles to reach the top shelf of a news-stand, I assume he is being sarcastic.
Woody's sarcasm has reached new heights since trying to teach me to drive. Which if I had a heart, I would find hurtful. I mean it was he who talked me into it, claiming that teaching me would be a breeze.
“You’re a robot,” he said. “Driving should be like second nature to you.”
I didn’t the heart to tell him I am a robot of great flexibility and not designed for mechanical things. When I turn my head, it swivels 180 degrees which makes exiting a roundabout about as safe as lighting a fire blindfolded with a flame thrower.
Mex, however, tried to educate Woody, not easy when sucking on a mega sour apple. Now completely off the sugar, she was working her way through whatever she could find to suck, and she looked like she had a mouthful of vinegar.
“Only the lowest order robot drive on Planet Hy Man,” said Mex wiping a dribble from her chin.
Woody looked at her and laughed-spurning Bunnie into action.
“If you're going to teach X man (referring to me) to drive then we are coming too. You can take us to Asda.” She said.
“Asda?” Said Woody, “what about the roundabouts…the junctions.” He looked from me to Bunnie. “He’ll never make it.”
Bunnie unmoved had made her mind up, she was hellbent on finding Mex something sugar- free, dairy-free and as they were going to Asda, cheap as chips.
“If you must suck on things,” she said to Mex “then at least choose something softer, tastier and…”
“Lick-able?” Muttered Mex followed by a forget I said that blush.
“I was actually going to say something less dribble-ie.” Muttered Bunnie bristly shoving Mex out the door.
I wanted to impress my friend, show him what I was made of, so I didn’t argue. And when the two women flopped into the back seat giggling about “standing on ceremony” and “this will be a hoot.” I let my head back with my best care-free laugh, flicked the car into gear, turned the ignition on and stalled it.
Which being as it was an automatic had them all, I think, impressed…
Mex and Bunnie sniggering like school girls began flicking through the radio channels…they had a love for all things newsie; obsessing about Brexit, independence and the need for coexistences.
“Isn’t that a contradiction in terms?’ I said finally starting the car.
Woody told me to concentrate and as we headed towards the first roundabout my stomach lurched.
It was the size of a launchpad which Woody explained was a bonus. The size scared me, I began circling it fearing the exit and after the fourth circle, Woody began to grind his teeth as Bunnie joked about “dogs chasing their tails”.
After the fifth circle, Woody gave up reassuring me favouring instead an army like order.
‘Forget about Brexit and take any frigging exit.” Were his exact words…
I, in the middle of trying to understand the difference between a speed sign, the actual sped of a car and the rich tapestry of fingers gestures, stalled yet again.
His shouting didn’t help, and I was just thinking of telling him as much when a horn blasted from a juggernaut of a lorry loomed up my rear.
Even the women stopped laughing.
‘Just frigging indicate and exit.” Woody hissed.
As I headed off some exit to god know where Bunny started talking of “political exits”, “dickheads in power, and “it is all going nowhere just like “X man here”.
“There is always someone uselessly tooting his horn.” Said Bunnie.
And Mex, instead of her usual “she doesn’t know what she talking about” comment agreed, even laughed when Bunnie asked, “if Hy Man also sported dickheads”.
“We had a Brexit type thing once on planet Hy Man,” said Mex, “the men tried to leave, set up somewhere else. They talked of truth, justice, and the manly way …it lasted as long as their so-called, manly ways did. In the end, they ran out of hemp, water, and matches.”
“This is why I didn’t want you to come.” Said Woody “how can anyone concentrate when you two talk bollocks?”
I took a deep breath and tried a few calming yoga mantras. I had just stopped at the traffic lights and was in the middle of attempted a hand brake start despite Woody insisting that a hand brake was not necessary. Woody was giving me the tutting of a lifetime and I was frazzled.
“Forget about all this Brexit bullshit.” He said. “Let's just get to Asda.”
I nodded to the finger gestures from the cars behind. “Are they laughing with me or at me?” I said.
‘Neither,” muttered Woody and finally took over.
As we headed into Asda I for the first time went straight for something sweet, sickly and long.
Mex laughed “something to lick?” she said at the cashier.
The attendant with a look of disdain on a par with the juggernaut driver asked Mex to leave.
“This is a family establishment,” she said showing Mex the door.
“It seems leaving Asda is a lot easier than other exits,” I said to Woody he laughed and this time it was Mex turn to mutter “dickheads”.