Dear Scientific Community,
I know that you have a lot of science to do and very little money to do it with, but I humbly request that you grant me great honking robot legs so that I may stomp about the neighbourhood and inspire others with my might.
We live in troubled times. The world needs a big project to provoke awe in small children and burble up comfort in the old. A common good, if you will, to bring around the doubters and make science seem magical once more. I believe that the world can unite around me and my whompingly massive metal legs, that I will use to stride through the countryside with a satisfying clank.
I hear your concerns. “Why, this 30-year-old woman from Australia already has fine, fleshy pins. Her thighs are the size of generous Christmas hams and are just as moist and dense.” This is true. But I speak of a larger leg, metal, that will allow me to tower above the cities in a way that is pleasing to me.
I beg of you, bestow upon me great tinny flanks the size of small apartments, supported by towering spindles of calves, and trotters the length and breadth of trams. I will stamp it up real good in every continent. I will wade through the oceans, shin-deep and some people will be like, “Hey, don’t”, and I won’t don’t. I will do, as a true testament to what can be achieved if you just believe in yourself and also have plonkingly vast jumbo shanks.
Come on, boffins. Beef up me gams. They could light up on holidays and have a speaker system that plays uplifting messages of hope to the people. I don’t care — I just want my pegs to have gawping heft.
Let my robotic legs carry me up into the clouds, and when I become old and tired I will walk out into the sea where I will rust, and parents will say to their children, “Look! That is Elyce Phillips — a fool of a woman, but sweet fuckity those stonkingly massive haunches truly united us all.”