A doll for our time

“Speak, dammit! Speak to me!”

The doll was a present for Harry’s five year old. The latest thing, it promised to talk with some standard phrases and would repeat anything you said. This one clearly didn’t and it frustrated the hell out of mild-tempered Harry. He’d bought a dud, but it was Emmie’s birthday tomorrow and he had no time to replace it.

Harry flipped. In a rare fit of anger he shook and struck the doll; smack in the face.

“Ouch!” it said to Harry’s amazement.

It became clear when he read the label – ‘battery not included’.