Well, here we are readers, cowering in the wake of the WEATHER BOMB that has RIPPED o’er our green and pleasant land, chucking CHAOS and DESTRUCTION right in our terrified faces (for non Mail / Express readers: ‘rain, and a bit of wind’). Is it safe to come out from under the table yet? Is the house still intact? As we heroically survey the debris and unbatten several hatches, we will leave you to amuse / depress yourselves with The Week in Sexist News. We wish you well.
10) The tit debate
By using Wednesday’s handy ‘Debate’ section in the Daily Mail, it’s possible to determine the following: What percentage of Mail readers suffer from hurt fee fees at the sight of tits for non-wank related reasons? What proportion of readers have an irrational fear of tits when not presented for the purposes of mockery and scorn? How many readers have an irrational fear of… well, just tits? And finally, how many of those suffering from this tit-hysteria are also likely to suffer from being a ukip supporter?
9) The Yuletide Remorse Diet
Following their recent Chip Shop Rejection, Rollercoaster Humiliation and Topiary Entanglement diets, The Sun have pulled out all the chubby stops with their latest ham-fisted slim-fast plan.
Cut to Monday’s staff meeting…Dinsmore, agitated after having coughed up a hairball at lunchtime, addresses his minions: ‘so, blokes, it turns out that not all women go on log flumes, tumble in privet or show themselves up in chip shops – some of them must go for kebabs instead – anyway, we need a diet incentive that will reach ALL WOMEN…work with me here lads…how about the Dole Queue Disaster Diet? The Wedged in a Hedge…no, we’ve done that one…something about buses…wait – I’ve got it – CHRISTMAS – no bird can escape Christmas, not even the foreign ones. Right, next on the agenda – that MP’s wife with the massive knockers – hit me!’
8) Wanging on about Wellies
Who wrote this, Daily Mail? I came here to rip the piss out of your shittingly impractical stack-heeled wellies, but I just can’t get past the bullet points:
- Wellies are no longer just for gardening and walking the dog (ok)
- They are now a fashion statement (really?)
- Kate Moss looks great in wellies and so does Charlotte Kemp’s niece (Who is Charlotte Kemp’s niece?)
- So why do hers never look as good? (Whose never look as good? Charlotte Kemp’s niece’s? But you just said they were nice?)
- Sarah Longthorn, founder of fashion brand Wedge Welly steps in (steps in? Steps into what? Do we need her to step in? Have we fallen out?)
- There are tens of new styles to choose from (‘tens’ of new styles!!! Be still my beating heart!)
7) Woman sits next to other woman on settee
Hidden beneath the 1,027 articles outlining the inescapable impending weather DOOM, the Daily Express have shoehorned in this cheerful little number. Oh how they LOVE Susanna Reid this week! She’s RADIANT in that nice dress! She OUTSHINES Bette Middler, the dowdy old bag!
As an aside, nine people have shared this article via the magic of social media. WHO ARE THESE NINE PEOPLE???
6) A Liddle Respect
This week in The Sun, straw-topped windbag Rod Liddle expressed his confusion as to how a blind, transgender politician could know she was the ‘wrong’ sex without the sense of sight. Ah, yes, that’s right Rod, the only way to understand women is by looking at them, no other sensory information is required. So, ladies of all stripes, should you want to impress your womanliness upon a man who is about as charming as a dull, lecherous uncle dressed in a shirt of raw sewage: maybe don’t do so much of the talking.
5) Flirting with The Torygraph
Thank flip we’ve got the lovely lot at The Telegraph on hand to teach us hapless, man-repellent ladies how to flirt during the festive season AND BEYOND. Sadly for us, it seems telling a dirty joke and suggestively eating a cocktail sausage is not the way to bag your self a proverbial Mark Darcy. Charitable journalist Helen Coffey consulted a flirtspert just for us, and the top tips are as follows:
• Stare at everyone in the room to ascertain if there’s anyone hot enough to bother continuing with the remaining steps. If not, you’re free to head home to warm socks and a yule log.
• Stand in the middle of the room like a pillock, so all the confirmed hot dudes can check out your rack.
• Get all the drinks in; apparently offering to buy someone a drink is a great opening gambit and nothing feels sexier than knowing you’ve inebriated someone into a lustful Christmas frenzy.
• Listen, listen, listen. Drink in the opinions, anecdotes and witticisms of others and learn about their lives, whilst remaining enigmatically silent. Maybe the flirtspert has been to a Rod Liddle femininity away day.
Yep, we’re sold, these are sure fire ways to cop off in an unremarkably carpeted function room full of people doing the Macarena. Quick where are my spanx and glittery wellies?
4) Divine Intervention
Those body-shaming gussett-lovers at The Daily Star have wretched up another Kardashian non-story for us, this week discussing Kim’s dismay at her pregnancy weight gain, something which is generally inevitable when one is growing an extra human about one’s person. Kim apparently said that getting a bit bigger than ‘normal’ was a lesson from God. Now, we understand that Kim may have the power to break the internet with her shiny bottom but, if there is an almighty, one would hope he or she would have a bit more going on. I, for one, would like to see someone a bit more despicable, say, Robert Mugabe, taken down a peg or two. But, if Kim is convinced a deity is out to get her, we’d suggest she re-watches the ‘Bound 2’ video, as that smacks more of divine punishment than a bit of baby bulge.
3) Multi-functional bangers
With simply too much tit-based news to choose from – and with a deep distaste for lactating mothers – The Sun have sought to clear up any confusion this week with regards to the true function of breasts…you know, just in case after 44 years of Page 3 we still weren’t quite sure. Meet Katie jones, the woman with the most useful boobs in Britain who, thanks to a kindly male friend, figured out she could carry his pint… in her cleavage. Since that life-changing day, Katie has learned to ‘water plants, eat chocolate bars and brush her teeth with them – as well as discovering they offer the perfect spice rack when cooking.’ Now for the love of fuck stop using them to feed babies, you filthy perverts.
2) Like a Virgin
In a bid to keep things fresh and edgy, the Daily Mail are attempting to make ‘up-vag’ the new ‘up-skirt.’ Oh Dacre, you innovative bastard, I did not see that one coming. The story goes that 2014’s ‘Miss Bum Bum’ winner has decided to have her virginity reinstated to ‘bring respect’ to the bum-excellence contest. Yes, that’s right ladies, if you want respect hold onto your hymen or, if that particular vaginal ship has sailed, you can always get a new one! Ahead of a ‘special’ photoshoot, Miss Bum Bum confided: ‘I wouldn’t feel good about appearing naked if I wasn’t exactly as I came into the world, if you know what I mean.’ Erm…not really…does she mean she’s going to need winding continuously throughout the shoot? Does she have dribble issues? But, most importantly, just how invasive are these photos going to be?
1) The wreath of desperation
Well done to the Daily Mail, who managed to find a woman over sixty willing to be photographed hiding her muff behind a garland of pine. Jilly Johnson, 61, stripped off in style (apparently) ‘in the interests of the sisterhood’ (apparently), and offered some top lady advice re. how to look passable in the altogether. ‘The first rule of stripping off over fifty’ stressed Johnson, ‘is to keep movement to a minimum – mature flesh doesn’t travel well.’ That’s sexy, innit? It makes me question the whole, y’know, purpose of stripping off in the first place. How terrifying to come home to a woman in the niff – tits and arse concealed by an elaborate nativity arrangement – who refuses to move. How long will she remain standing there? And what for? To round off this weird, weird article, Johnson admits that she dislikes all the featured photographs: ‘I’m at least a stone heavier than in my heyday, and it just reminds me of what I’ve lost.’ Brilliant – really bloody good advice: hold an advent calendar in front of your vagina, stand completely still and gently weep over the past. This is how it’s done, Madonna.
Well, dear readers, the weather bomb has left us mostly unscathed – only the shed, the bins and Peggy from next door have been washed away. Looks like we’ll be here next week then. Au revoir!