It was early Saturday afternoon in Bigtown, the sun shone, the town square was full of people, and the cafés and the Italian ice cream parlour were busy.
A group of bidets left the Grand Hotel and walked down the steps into the square where one of them took pictures of the group with a selfie stick. The bidets danced around the square holding their signs high:
FREEDOM FOR BIDETS
BIDETS DEMAND THEIR RIGHTS
DON'T FAUCET ON BIDETS
BIDETS' LIVES MATTER
FREEDOM FOR URINALS
They stopped, took more selfies and one of them made a speech. Bidets were fed up with being constantly sat upon. Don't stand on bidets. Bidets had rights. It is wrong to smash a bidet. We bidets need more than a flush. Bidets are not racist. Not all bidets are white. Support the brave bidets in their fight for rights and freedom. The bidet spoke with a French accent.
The bidets danced around the town square and sang:
What a day for a bidet
Bidet in the morning, bidet at night, bidet all day long
I've got my bidet working
Can't get you out of my bidet
Anyone who had a bidet (would love me)
Everybody stared at the dancing bidets – who had seen all-singing and all-dancing bidets before?
“Really wonderful – dancing and singing bidets.” “Wadya mean? Those things belong in the bathroom.” “Foreign muck!” “I think they're very entertaining.” “They should be on TV.” “Very clever, dressing up as bidets and...” “They should be smashed up.” “Very jolly!”
Suddenly a very large and very rough man entered the square and shouted at the bidets. I can't describe what he said, it was unprintable. He strode up to one of the bidets and struck it with a sledgehammer.
WAM! There was white all over the square, a piece of the bidet fell off and the bidet lay on its side groaning loudly. The other bidets were heart-broken and tried to console the badly injured bidet. They tried to put the broken piece back into place, but the poor bidet rolled over and died.
One of the bidets lifted a paving stone up and carved text on it:
Here lies
a Brave Bidet
R.I.P.
The other bidets dug a hole in the sand where the paving stone had been. They placed the dead bidet in the grave, together with the paving stone, now upright.
One of the bidets stood up and made a speech. It happened every day. Poor, innocent, harmless bidets were brutally killed in the street. Support the brave bidets in their fight for...
From the four corners of the square rushed policemen dressed in bright red uniforms and arrested the bidets. The policemen put the bidets over their heads and left the square. Only the grave of the brave bidet remained.
Amy and Jimmie were sitting at a table in the town square, Jimmie was eating a spaghetti ice cream and Amy was nursing a cup of coffee. A quarter-sized Margaret Thatcher named Trace was sitting on the table.
“That was really good, Trace, really funny.”
“Thank you, Jimmie, very kind of you to say that.”
Amy said “I agree, very good. You arranged the whole hologram stuff like I told you, but better. And the best is yet to come. Trace, thank you for sending me the videos of the people watching the stupid dancing bidets.”
“What they said is priceless, a great help for my study of stupidity in the early twenty-first century.”