Gingers (pronounced 'ging-hers' with a hard 'G'

Maiden Luxe had just put up a post about redheads.

I remember reading somewhere that all redheads can be genetically traced back to the ancient nation of Thrace (once Grecian, once Yugoslavian, and now somewhere near Macedonia, I think). Apparently, Thrace was famous because there was not one single year in it's history when it was not at war with a neighboring state.

Cro confessed to a lately developed obsession for red-headed women, and all but admitted to having fallen in love with Margaret Thatcher (along with the entire cabinet of the day, and most of the world of business and banking). Groucho commented that redheads were 'power people', and observed how many of them were on the boards of companies, etc.

Years ago, when banks had managers behind the counters, I ran into my bank manager in a local pub and we had a couple of drinks with each other. She was a Scottish redhead, and as we talked about what we did when not at work (we both knew what the other did for a living), she explained that she was quite keen on Karate, and attended classes in it several times a week.

As I was telling her about my extra curricular activities, she - without warning - landed a full-blown karate chop to my neck with a high-pitched yell, sending me crashing to the floor.

As I was recovering, she leant over me and said, "There - you see? You didn't see that coming, did you?" I certainly didn't.

There is something about redheads which seems to make people simultaneously fear, admire and pity them, and I cannot quite think what it is. The 'carrot' coloured ones are the butt of many jokes, and most people think that it is quite acceptable to tell these jokes to their face, which - I suppose - is better than waiting until they leave the room.

I know of one of these 'ginger' jokes that is so unacceptably offensive, that I don't think I can tell it to you now on this public blog - though I did consider it, because (I think) it is extremely funny.

I was talking to a friend of mine a few years ago, who was a fearsome night-club bouncer. I remembered this funny joke and decided to tell it to him. I had forgotten, however, that his youngest son was a 'ginger', and when it came to the punch-line, I once again found myself on the floor as a result of a full-blown punch to the head.

In hindsight, I should have at least seen that one coming.