In a recent edition, my daily newspaper carried a story of a regional manager of a national bakers' chain, who had banned
the name of 'Gingerbread Man' in case it should offend certain people. He decreed that the product had to be sold as a
'Gingerbread Person.' Thankfully, he was quickly overrruled by head office.
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He’s been around for so long: two centuries, I think,
Now all of a sudden he has been made extinct,
Killed off by some manager of a bakery chain,
Who must win first prize for ‘The Year’s Scatterbrain.’
Hundreds of mothers and kids did protest,
A gingerbread person they could just not digest,
Thankfully and quickly common sense did prevail,
And the gingerbread man is now once more on sale.
The decision was taken by the bakers’ great master,
To avoid, without doubt, a great national disaster,
So, as quick as it started the matter was ended,
Who on earth, in this land, could be possibly offended?
A gingerbread woman can, in places, be bought,
“They require less pastry,” is one frequent retort,
But the P.C. Brigade doesn’t need to feel hurt,
They don’t wear long trousers but just a short skirt.
Have these politically correct people gone totally bonkers?
Banning Christmas lights, crosses and even kids’ conkers,
The crucifix must be hidden behind a cravat,
But I think we’ll just draw a dark veil over that.
Some people may frown but, if so, then I’ll risk it,
I’m going out to purchase my own favourite biscuit,
And one of the male sex, as has long been my mission,
We must all now support this great British tradition.
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