Welcome to the Week in Sexist News! Over the last 7 days we have been deafened by the sound of our national media turning sexism up to 11. As women of this fair isle, we are encouraged daily to smell the fetid glove of the inequality that besmirches our land. It is with a feverish blend of mirth and misery that we dump this pile of Fleet Street fuckwittery at your feet.

 

#11 Reality Star Bravely Reveals her Personal Struggles 

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‘We’ve actually reached the bottom of the barrel’ I sighed, upon seeing the Daily Star’s headline ‘Holly Hagan: I sh****ed more when I was fatter.’ How original of them to write about ‘babes,’ diets and sex, I moaned. And then, whilst attempting to unblock the sink with an old compass, a sparkling realisation hit me: my sleaze-ridden brain had jumped to the wrong conclusion! I had done Richard Desmond’s wank rag a grave disservice! Clearly, the article in fact explores the woeful perils of IBS, and the asterisks mask the headline: ‘Holly Hagan: I shitted more when I was fatter.’ As a woman who gorged herself on Soreen, Nutella and Minstrels for the best part of 2006, let me say: Holly, thank you for having the courage to speak out.

 

#10 Predatory Older Women and the Young Nutsack

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So, this is an interesting one. The Times chose to frame a story which ostensibly levels the ‘biological clock’ playing field with a headline suggesting older women should prowl for youthful scrote like desperate screeching succubi. Well done. That deserves  a nice slow handclap. Perhaps better titles befitting this piece to echo their tabloidy effort might be  ‘A Load of Old Balls’ or ‘A Plum Job Ripe for the Boys’.  This story also features the highly dubious quote “Women in their 40s need a man as young as they can get”. Just IMAGINE gender-flipping that line…

#9 Jealous Women Waste Hours Troweling on Slap

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In a creatively researched article, enhanced with images clearly nicked from the 1986 spring / summer Empire catalogue, the Daily Mail suggests that the average British woman takes 3 hours and 38 minutes to get ready for a night out. Cutting out the intermission, that’s the running time of Gone with the Wind, which manages to pack in Scarlett’s three marriages, a bolting horse and the Battle of Gettysburg. How can it possibly take just short of four hours to brush your hair and put some shoes on? When I went to a party dressed as a wardrobe it only took me two hours to get ready, and that included intermediate carpentry, two bottles of Prosecco and first aid. Oh, and P.S., please remember that all women are fiendishly jealous of each other. Bitches.

 

#8 The Birth of the Bling Brows

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If we believe the Mail‘s arse over tits ‘research,’ it takes wimmin 3 hours 38 minutes to leave the house as it is, without having to Blutack Elizabeth Duke cubic zirconia offcuts all over their heads. Trust me Daily Star, there’s enough bling-y, glisten-y toss to enhance our woefully inadequate faces out there already. As bad ideas go this is up there with boob deodorant and armpit shimmer.

#7 Grooming Secrets

Shaving half a leg  washing only your fringe and using fabric spray as perfume...Shameful grooming shortcuts no woman admits to   Daily Mail Online

 

You could be forgiven for thinking that the word shame applies to things like committing heinous crimes, hurting people, being a woman and drinking alcohol (thanks Michael ‘Sharia’ Buerk) or, I dunno, shitting yourself in public. But No! Not in Daily Mail-land. In Daily Mail-land shame is ascribed (this week) to ‘cheating’ at looking and smelling nice. Their researchers have unearthed the disgusting and craven habits of women who understand the penalties for not being Daily-Mail-Womanly enough, but can’t be fucked to waste 89% of their earthly time or get £17 bajillion into debt in order to be vaguely acceptable.

This daring exposé tells of such willful and dangerous sluttery as not shaving an entire leg, using Febreze to freshen fabric (y’know the thing it was devised for), putting foundation over stray eyebrows and more… how do these women sleep at night? How are they allowed to roam free amongst us? If you suspect a woman you know might only be washing her fringe call The Daily Mail‘s hotline immediately: 020 3615 1800

 

#6 Pregnant woman has face

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Ignoring the 1,900 photographs of the Duchess of Cambridge laughing her head off during the President of Singapore’s state visit, the Mail found the one crappy close up of ‘Princess Kate’ looking like she’d just swallowed a fly, and used it as a front page exposé which scandalously revealed her ‘three-month pregnant’ face. You can imagine the ripple of excitement that fizzed through Paul Dacre’s country pile, driven by the desperate hope that the Duchess might vomit down the trouser leg of a short man named Tony from the far east. Unfortunately, Kate disappointed us all, and held it in. There’s always next time.

 

#5 Ageing Boy-Band Has-Beens on Their Own Genitals, Shagging and Arson

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The Sun has chosen to indulge the nostalgia of former audio-toss-touting pop ‘legends’ Five, Damage, A1, Blue, 5th Story, 3T and 911. No, I don’t know who 5th Story or 3T are either, despite my residing on the wrong side of 29 and their apparently being the bands of “every thirtysomething woman’s dreams” – don’t know about you, but my dreams feature very little in the way of harmonising idiots dancing in formation with their shirts off.

They wax lyrical (or as lyrically as they ever did) of their experiences of rigging competitions so they could shag ‘fit birds,’ accidentally setting fire to upholstery and being deported for getting their ‘danglers out’ in Bahrain. This jolly circus of man-children are touring on a bus, indulging in lots of ‘top banter’ and likely crying themselves to sleep in Travelodges all over the country, because none of them are in Take That.

Also, where’s the reunion for B*witched, Cleopatra, Daphne & Celeste and fucking Shampoo? Eh?

 

#4 Woman has Arse

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In a veritable carnival of sycophancy, the Mail published THIRTY ONE photographs of Littlewoods aficionado, Coleen Rooney, ‘showcasing her perfect curves’ in Barbados. Thanks to a close up of her ‘dainty derriere, which shows no signs of cellulite,’ I… hang on…WHY AM I LOOKING AT A PHOTO OF A STRANGER’S ARSE? I don’t even look at my own arse. I give my arse little to no attention. Thanks Daily Mail, you’ve made me pity my own arse – a triumph of journalism.

#3 Jordan Syndrome 

In a mind blowing display of self-awareness The Sun ran with the following front page:

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That’s right Ladies and Gentlemen, the home of Page 3 and peddler of the perfect-tit recipe have coined a new term: ‘Jordan Syndrome.’ It’s not clear at this stage whether they are also blaming her for single-handedly causing the economic crisis.

 

#2 First they came for Zellweggers face……

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Whilst the very fabric of democracy is being undermined by police brutality and unlawful arrests, the tabloids shat their collective bed this week over the passing of time and its effects on a woman’s face. That’s right, Renee Zellwegger, talented actress who brought to life the much loved character Bridget Jones, was pictured under the bright lights of Hollywood again this week, after nearly 5 years of being away, and guess what… her fucking face has changed!!

Things all got a bit dicey when the Mail Photoshopped a new eyebrow onto her face in a desperate attempt to explain her horribly decaying form, but the prize for the most venomous piece goes to Sexist News fave Sarah Vine, for managing to create a whole new sub-genre of woman hating.

 #1 Unrepentant Rapist’s Mum gets Cross

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This week those cutting edge journos at The Daily Star amazed everyone by stepping out of  their tit-and-arse-addled fantasyland into 2014 by acknowledging the existence of Feminism. Don’t start getting too excited; this, after all, is the up-skirt Nirvana for drooling perverts everywhere. The Star‘s cognisance of our much maligned movement was to suggest poor wittle convicted wapist Ched Evans is a victim of the battle for gender equality. Yes, a man who treats women as mere post-boxes for his cock isn’t keen on criticism and nor is his mum. Some one call the Waaahmbulance.