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My pronouns are She-rah, Herbal, and Hersheys. I don’t think it’s asking too much to refer to me using those simple terms, which I’ve made up, as I’m legally entitled to do in the name of equality.

Can you believe people go on like this? The other day, I got an email from Alcoholics Anonymous replying to an email I sent to them complaining, again, about their new “safeguarding” policy, which has resulted in some people being banned from meetings.

At the end of this email, rejecting my complaint, an administrator for the General Service Office of AA GB signed off: “Best wishes, Mike. My pronouns are He his and him.” And then he put the AA helpline details. Because his stupid pronouns are more important than saving people from an alcoholic death, presumably.

Also, his stupid pronouns are nothing to write home about. They’re the obvious ones. So he’s only writing “He his him” to make a point that he stands with the trans.

In a sense, maybe his stupid pronounizing is useful, because it reveals to me that he is not going to deal fairly with my concerns, ever, no matter how many times I write. He won’t give a toss for real issues of fairness, because he is obsessed with trans tokenism.

I could fight this, write another letter of complaint. But suddenly I felt I couldn’t be bothered. This madness is too embedded. It might be easier to just accept that pronouns are more important than life itself.

It’s futile fighting it, and way too late now, because pronounification has entered into the mainstream vernacular.

When the big, bearded pop singer Sam Smith, for example, declared themselves themselves, even though this is clearly grammatically incorrect, as they is one person, no one in the mainstream media said, “Hang on a minute, he’s a big bearded bloke and we’re not letting him ruin the English language because he says he’s now ‘genderqueer’ [all one word], and we’re not going to start typing ‘they’ when we’re writing articles about a singular person, because we are professional users of grammar, after all.”

No. Since then, they (as in Smith singular) is always referred to as they, no questions asked. No journalistic skepticism or scrutiny, and no defense of the English language, which is the very tool every writer relies on.

They (as in everyone) show complete reverence to them (as in singular person Smith) by making sure they (as in everyone) trash grammar to use the plural pronoun to refer to them (as in singular person Smith). And we all know that sentence—though it fulfills equality law—wouldn’t have made unambiguous sense unless I had put all the bits in brackets.

What a load of hooey. But hooey has been piled on hooey for a long time now, and equal rights have been piled upon equal rights, and extra rights, and made-up rights, to the point that Caitlyn Jenner, whom I admire greatly for being so sensible, has said:

“Is there really a need to announce your pronouns? I don’t see it as productive or something that needs to be announced, let alone insisted nor enforced on someone.”

But the trans activists have her outvoted, and the pronounifying is unstoppable. I admit, I am starting to wonder…

As a mere boring old biological woman, I have sometimes thought that if I want to get myself treated with more respect, maybe boost my career a bit, I need to start giving some serious thought to what pronouns I want, and not just assume the ones I was given by this patriarchal cis-gendered society are any good. And maybe I need a new sexuality while I’m at it.

It’s madness, but I have been having these thoughts for a while. Why not me? Why can’t I be difficult? You see how finely balanced society is, and how if one person starts behaving in a high-maintenance way, we all could start doing that?

Maybe I’m nonbinary. I like cars and often dream of punching people who annoy me. I reckon I’m a bit masculine.

Or am I gender-fluid? Some days I get up and I put on a floaty dress. Other days I pull on ripped jeans and a vest, forget to brush my hair.

I think there’s only so much of this madness we can take before we crack and start to think, “If I cannot cope with this any longer then maybe I’ve got to accept it. And if I’ve got to accept it, then I’m so pigheaded that means I’ll do it too, to get some annoyance value back for my trouble.”

The transgender, nonbinary, 50 million pronouns thing is so batshit crazy it ought not to have got off first base, but it is so backed by the establishment and all corners of society, even the mainstream media, the only thing for any of us to do eventually will be to stop fighting it and have a bit of it.

But maybe that’s the point. It wears you down. You wake up one day and think it all makes sense. I’m a cat-gendered queer!

Yes, maybe my pronouns are Xi, Xer, and Xem. (The other ones are boring me already, sorry. No, I’m not sorry. You need to call me by my pronouns of choice even if they change every day, or several times a day…)

Once you accept you’re a cat-gendered queer, or even that someone else is, it is not far to go to a place where you accept all sorts of other batshit crazy stuff, because your brain is now fried, obviously, and you’ve swallowed the impossible chunk of nonsense they’ve been trying to get you to swallow for years. So your perception of reality is fucked.

This is Marxism. It’s about crushing your understanding of what is absolutely and self-evidently true.

Now you are all over the place, so all things are possible. They can say to you a dog’s a cat and a cat’s a dog, depending on the day, and while we’re at it, a war in Ukraine caused by us is a war in Ukraine caused by Putin, and you think, yeah, alright, why not?

If there is no man or woman, there is no stable bedrock for The Truth to be built on. There’s nothing to build anything on anymore.

Gender ideology isn’t about helping people who are genuinely gender dysphoric, or suffering because of that. We’ve been being compassionate to those people for centuries, and they have always existed.

We’ve never had a time when cross-dressers have not been admired and thought exotic and exciting and brave and glamorous.

The laws may have changed, but the laws are always asses anyway. Homosexuality was once illegal in the Western world and still is in some places. Drugs are currently outlawed in most places. People do them anyway, but the law says no, we’re going to pretend it’s possible to make it stop happening, just as it once said, we’re gonna have a crack at stopping men having sex with each other.

But even when the law was an ass, people never really frowned on men dressing as women or vice versa. We love it. Men in drag—great fun! Androgynous ladies in suits—oo-er! We can’t get enough of it.

“Transphobia,” to use the official term, appears to be an invention as a reaction to a complete lack of prejudice against interesting characters.

I cannot work out what the trans movement is about, with its male boxers punching women half to death in Olympic “women’s boxing” matches, unless it’s about hammering all our brains, not just the poor biologically female boxers’ brains, until we don’t know which way is up and which way is down.

You will accept that there is no such thing as a man. You will accept that there is no such thing as a woman. Men are women and women are men and men who are women are also whatever else they want to be on top of that, including boxers who only happen to half-murder their opponents by accident, and you will use whatever pronoun they make up…

Oh, okay. We agree. There is no such thing as a woman. And we need to have another Covid booster. And Russia started the war in Ukraine.