New Year, new, refreshing approach to gender equality in our national press? Not bloody likely. This week has been as turgid as ever with all the usual fun of the fair (if by fun we mean fat-shaming, slut-shaming, rape apology and other crusty, patriarchal delights). Enjoy the ride!
10) Woman wears shorts, people see her legs…GASP
For publications that paddle around in the well lubricated stretches of our culture’s more salacious regions, tabloids don’t half sound like a bunch of excited, Victorian boys who’ve just seen an ankle for the first time. Come on the Daily Mirror, you’ve seen legs before, you probably have some of your own. Get a fucking grip.
9) Be nice to people who aren’t slim, says Slimming World…
In The Independent, Page 3 lovin’, possibly confused, body-image campaigner Natasha Devon has waded up to her neck into the sludgy, dubious joy that is the neo-liberal swamp, by suggesting we cheer on Slimming World as they try oh-so-hard to seem like a cuddly-wuddly company, and not one that profits from a cultural disgust at people actually being cuddly. Yeah, they might helpfully apply moral judgement to food by categorising ‘naughty’ food as ‘syns’ – grrrrreat! But aw boys and girls (and especially girls, ‘cos Slimming World will likely get more of your money) those profiteering tosspots don’t want people being mean to you for being FAT, no! That’s horrid! (It is horrid) But.. oh… yes they are called ‘Slimming World’ but no they don’t really mean it, I mean they’ll help you get slim, for a little while maybe, but they just want to hug us poor, sad lumps*, cos remember they aren’t snake-oil peddling turds – they are cuddly and oh so wuddly.
*anyone over whichever BMI numeral is considered to be fucking up the NHS this week, despite the fact that BMI should stand for ‘Bullshit Medical Idiocy.’
8) Woman doesn’t wear a vest
It goes like this: songstress Rita Ora went on middle of the road boregasm The One Show, in a low cut jacket and 400 people complained. The One Show duly patronised the shit out of her by saying they wished they’d wrestled her into a jumper, as they had managed with all her male co-interviewees (we heard unconfirmed reports that Tom Jones had also tried to show side-boob, but the burly woman in wardrobe managed to tackle him into something more modest). Anyway, so far, so tedious. And then The Sun, bless ’em, stuck their pointless oar in on the issue. They took to the streets with their Page 3 model of the moment, Rosie Jones, who seems to get dragged around shopping precincts on utterly pointless assignments with alarming regularity. They dressed her up in 5 dreary outfits graduating from no tits to substantial under-boob and managed to get people who give a flying fuck to approve or pooh-pooh the level of tittage as appropriate for the BBC at 7pm… Obviously the copy is sprinkled liberally with inane breast puns and there you have a perfect example of… oh god I JUST DON’T CARE about Rita Ora’s cleavage.
7) Their message is getting through it seems
Presumably, the Daily Mail consider this story a homegrown success, since they fat shame all the time because they care about us all of course. And, look, it WORKS. Call people names, they crash diet and Bob’s yer uncle. Is that it guys?
6) Kim Kardashian’s Arse barely breaks out the top of her trousers, let alone our wifi connection
Now, I know 2014 was a long time ago and tabloid journos have quite short memories – likely a survival mechanism to circumvent self-loathing at their chosen profession. But, correct me if I’m wrong, didn’t we see Kim Kardashian’s ENTIRE bottom slathered in WD40 EVERYWHERE not so long ago? Now, if that is indeed the case, why, in the name of all things Lycra, are the lady-flesh savants at the Daily Star jizzing their pants over an inch of her arse crack caused by the curse of hipster jeans? For why?
5) Poor Les Dennis and the SORDID, ROMPING, ORGY debacle
Yes, you heard it here folks, or maybe elsewhere if you read The Sun or follow Les Dennis on Twitter… We read The Sun, (that ‘family newspaper and now website – yes they refer to themselves as a family website…) but we do it for you, for this. Anyway, we digress. It was alleged that Les Dennis, a woman called Aisleyne off the telly who’s pretty with a large chest, and another bloke who was multi-tasking by taking photos and holding his (possibly throbbing) manhood (our mate, Dawn Fringe thinks the journalist in question may have been possessed by the spirit of Barbara Cartland mid-story – who says manhood?). ANYWAY, sorry we digressed again, so there were three-people romping and such, sexy stuff with a sexy lady, which we thought The Sun liked, you know with all the tits and everything, but they wouldn’t post the picture because it was too sordid and graphic ‘for a family website’ and Les Dennis says it’s a horrible picture and maintains it wasn’t him. We don’t really care, but are intrigued that anyone would choose to quote Shaggy to impress upon the world their chasteness in such a matter, since that song is all about being blatantly caught at it all over the shop. And, hang on, it’s a picture of Aisleyne who we hope was having a jolly good time, so why is everyone saying what filth it is to distance themselves, they were all grown ups, right? O tempora o mores!
4) Celebrity Big Bore-off
a) How is this TV programme STILL going? b) Who are these women? Have they changed the definition of the word celebrity without us realising? 3) Hang on, I thought more than one in a bed was sordid The Sun? d) Yawn.
3) There is a wrong answer to this question
Imagine what would happen to the Daily Mail fortress if someone in close proximity to their woman-hate-Stockholm-Syndrome laced lair said ‘actually, I couldn’t give a solitary shit about my midriff and my legs are leg-shaped, so sod off’ in response to the above. Imagine. The ice would melt, the bricks would crumble to dust and leave just a single, cheerful plant of some kind (I don’t know anything about plants) in it’s place. Like Narnia. Yes, that’s the analogy I’m looking for: the Daily Mail is like Narnia, where it’s always diet-time and never dinner.
2) Yeah whatever, he’s a rapist and that, but let’s look at his running and kicking skillz…
Unless you live in a shed, on a hill in a wifi blackspot – in which case you won’t be reading this either – you’ll likely know that Oldham AFC were sort of about 80% certain / probably thinking about signing the convicted rapist, who’s not served his full sentence yet, Ched Evans. The Telegraph have printed some offensive bollocks about this case; Allison Pearson, wrote a particularly epic victim-blaming, hand-maiden-of-our-patriarchal-rape-culture piece back in November (don’t read it, you’ll grind your teeth to a paste – unless you’re an arsehole), but this is a different kind of shit. While pieces are being written about consent and justice etc., The Telegraph, in the manner of a bored 8 year old whose parents are having a conversation too grown-up for him to understand, decide to run a piece about Evans’ soccer prowess. The slowest of slow claps The Telegraph, bravo.
1) Cameron Diaz is FINALLY wed – and not a moment too soon!
The Daily Mail effing LOVE a wedding, especially a wedding where they believe they get to age-shame and slut-shame and point maniacally at a woman’s dwindling fertility and declining outer shell with impunity. Cameron Diaz is FORTY-TWO, yes that’s FORTY-TWO did anyone miss that? And she’s convinced a bloke who’s seen better days to marry her, but her mum likes him, so that’s lovely. It’s different for blokes though. Remember that man George Clooney, he’s a bit old, and he got be-wedded (to a super, hot babe let’s not forget, ‘cos old dudes can have hot, younger chicas yeah?), but he didn’t drag behind him a festering sack of broken dreams and failed romance like Cameron and her inventory of botched courtships. No, he’s a MAN and MEN get to ride about on a wave that glows with the wondrous, throbbing kudos of their past sexual conquests, because men are shaggers and rogerers and…. Oh, Alison Boshoff of The Daily Mail, did you not get any of the memos? The ‘guess what, the 1950s are so over’ memo or the ‘marriage isn’t a measure of a woman’s worth’ memo? Guess not.
And there you have it, what a sorry state of affairs. Until next week you bunch of lovelies, when we shall once more regale you with this fair isle’s faux-journalistic twattery. Until then. xxx