Salutations Tights fans. We are back and obviously thrilled that there’s been so much to write about. On Twitter this week, a lovely chap told us that we are just looking for sexism. Yes. We are. And we hunt far and wide, we search high and low just to find mere snippets of fabled misogyny. It’s a tough job ferreting around amongst all the really positive and gender-equal copy that’s just churned out day after day… Yeah… Anyway…
10) Woman leaves house in jewellery
Poor, sad, desperate, anguished, despairing, wretched, forlorn, craven, lonely, on-the-shelf Jen is now MARRIED!!!!!!!! Finally she has validation! She is no longer followed by journalists reeling off all the synonyms for ‘not married.’ No, she’s being followed by those lovelies at the Daily Express who are accusing her of ‘flaunting’ her wedding ring. Can someone please clarify, has the OED removed the word ‘wear’ and replaced it with ‘flaunt?’ If this is the case, it would explain an awful lot about the tabloid press. Thanks in advance &c.
What the Hell is going on? Women having children at FIFTY; buggering up Marks and Spencers by taking maternity leave, but also being a terrible mother by only taking FOUR MONTHS. She’s just so unnatural. Not to mention uncategorisable. What is she? An old, dusty-creviced ball-buster? A fecund earth mother firing out bonny infants? A work-shy yummy mummy? A working mother (Satan)?
Then there are these other really unnatural women deciding NOT to have PERIODS. Weirdos. Bleeding from one’s front bottom is the funnest, right ladies? But they’ve also taken the opportunity to stick the knife in for women who insist on enjoying their menstrual leakage, since there’s now ‘no excuse’ to complain of cramps, clots and such.
Will no-one think of Paul Dacre? How on Earth can the Daily Mail pigeon-hole, ridicule and generally drub women that defy binary classification as shit or not shit. It’s not easy being mean.
8) Forever Flange
‘Oh what fresh hell waiteth in for us in the Daily Express?’ thought I. As well as the usual hand, brain and ball wringing over scroungers, the EU and Fern Britton’s bra (she’s 58 you know), was this little gem. This reads like a Daily Mash column, and I’m loathe to believe this product is genuine.
But let’s just imagine for a moment if it were… The Express seem to see this as an extension of feminism. Because that’s what we all really want. To be joined at the minge. We want orgasms, we want to be in charge, we want babies at FIFTY, we want not to have periods, we want to share our periods, we want equal pay and wall-to-wall lesbiansim. Basically, we want more money, a seat on the council and everything to revolve around our chuffs. Like Ancient Greece, but without the togas and for girls.
Hey Girls! It’s our turn! *giggles*
So. The drug that purports to have women foaming at the gusset, via some kind of medicinal jump start to the fanny part of the brain, has been given the most half arsed of glances by The Sun. Obviously, they took the opportunity to call grown women ‘girls’ and suggest it’s our ‘turn’ to have our disinterested, misfiring junk fixed by sinister drug companies who have created something that can’t be knocked back with a White Russian. But beyond that. Meh. Women wanting sex? That’s just daft. Women don’t want to want sex, they want to sit about in tiny knickers, making ‘Ooh that’s a big one’ faces, while chaps chafe their chubbies down to a stump. Right?
6) Imaginative reasons to take your top off
What better way to celebrate the incarceration of your betrothed than by pretending to be sexually excited, for money, for Richard Desmond? Yes, according to tabloid colouring book, the Daily Star, all major (and minor) life events should be marked by immediate and sustained bra removal. Dog gets run over? Go topless! Car needs taxing? Get your tits out! 2 for 1 offer on Listerine at Tesco? You know what to do!
5) Oh, Bore Off
I’m so tired of seeing male rally drivers’ oiled up nobs in the papers. And all those male Formula One models, cheering on the drivers in their little shiny pants – I’m sick of it.
Anyway, to try something new, The Sun have strung together a series of tit puns and published them, loosely arranged in sentences, alongside a series of photos of a female rally driver’s nipples.
I don’t mind really. It makes a change from all those pictures of naked men on all fours suggestively eating cherries that grace the pages every day.
4) Extremely rare Femail article about ageing
Ah, Femail, you just keep on giving. Not only do you offer the venomous embroidery of Sarah Vine’s weekly musings, advice on home appliances that can kill you and judgmental snarkings about the state of our curtains, waistlines and toenails, you also now regularly present slight variations of this feature: women who think they look a bit like their daughters. It’s a winner! Firstly, it allows Daily Mail journalists to heavily edit interviews, presenting random isolated statements in bold, for example ‘I think I am beautiful’ or ‘people often tell me I look young.’ Secondly, it creates a frenzy of excitement among readers, who frantically comment ‘pah, I don’t think so love – she looks like a bag of spanners’ and ‘she shouldn’t be wearing that skirt at her age!’ etc etc.
But don’t let this put you off. If you think you look a bit like your daughter, and would enjoy being dressed in identical outfits from Debenhams and forced to pose with her – back to back, arms folded with an ironic smile – then do contact Femail at the above address (ideally before next Wednesday, as they can think of absolutely nothing else to write about).
3) Haven’t designers across the world got anything better to do? Just sayin’
Great, thanks The Sun for this one. I am dreadfully bored of obsessing about my own nation’s impossible beauty standards, so it’s nice to consider those of Eygpt (why can I never spell Eypgt?), China and Italy for a change. Reassuringly, conflicting international standards mean that, regardless of my weight and tit size, I can be safe in the knowledge that I’ll always look shit in at least one country.
I might just move to Original. The I.T. nobheads in that country can’t be arsed to create a perfect woman – they’re happy with her as she is. Let’s all live there, in wobbly, droopy bliss.
2) Woman has job
At the other side of the globe, exists a woman who goes to work. She looks twelve and lots of perverts try to take photos up her skirt, while she serves chips to malnourished wankers. To make this story even more magical, the Daily Star excitedly reports that, in Taiwan, Macdonalds ‘dress their female employees in cute outfits such as sailors or maids.’
What a liberating, utopian dream – peddling burgers made of horses, pencil shavings and lard, whilst dressed as a sexy cleaner, on minimum wage. With a zoom lens focused up your arse.
What a time to be alive.
1) Judge Not Lest Ye be Judged etc.
So. Let’s for a moment pop to one side the fact that this piece was situated cosily in the Femail section and ignores the fact that men are nurses too. Remember Martin in Corrie? He was a nursey man. Also a Love Rat, but I’m fairly certain that’s not an NHS job requirement. The private sector may have different stipulations, I’m afraid I can’t verify.
But anyway, this piece just left me wondering. Not ‘why oh why are nurses so fat?’ But ‘why oh why do journalists, people with thinky facilities, agree to write such bollocky, toss-flavoured bilge?’ There must be other ways to earn a living, right? After all the Daily Mail wouldn’t back an agenda which left people struggling financially to such a degree they’d do literally ANYTHING for money…like write for the Daily Mail…
I’d love one day to see this instead:
We do hope this countdown of Fleet Street’s finest nobbings has raised a smile and not your lunch. We’re going to be busy redoing our website over the next couple of weeks, so if it looks a bit weird at intervals just bear with darlings. Have a grand day. We love you. Iris and Flora xx