The Dog Eunuch

I was talking to George about the book of Esther this morning. 'It's an incredibly well-written book,' I said. 'And so relevant to today's political situation. In fact if the author were writing today I expect she'd be working on something like Yes, Minister, or The Thick of It.'

'Mm,' George was munching on grass. He stopped and looked up. 'She?'
'What?'
'You said she'd be working.'
'Yes, I think she would because she captures the irony so perfectly.'
'No, I mean "she"?'
'Oh I see what you mean. Yes, I think the author could be a woman.'

George shrugged. 'Seems unlikely.'
'Well, I can't see a man writing or knowing so much about the beauty treatments required.'
'True but how likely is it that a woman would have been taught to read and write?'
'You make a good point, George.'

We walked on a bit further. 

'Perhaps it was a eunuch who wrote it,' I said.
'What's a eunuch?'
'Um, good question, George. I'll have to check for precise details but I think basically it's a man who had the same operation you had.'

George did an exaggerated eyebrow raise. 'I've had an operation?'
'Yes, when you were little.'
'You did it without asking me?'
'You were too little to understand.'
'Excuse me but I think I should have been told about this before. What exactly was this operation for?'
'Um, to stop you having babies.'
'I think you'll find it's bitches who have the babies not dogs.'
'Yes, but you have to play a part too.'
'I do?!' George's eyes are wide open and he looks alarmed now. 'What do I have to do?'
'Um...'

The conversation got ever more embarrassing while George got increasingly annoyed. 

End result: he stopped speaking to me.