News flash - women not people, do not have feelings

Or at least, that's what you'd think if you spent more than a millisecond in most internet forums.

Allow me to elaborate. On New Year's Eve a group of friends and I went to see one of our favourite bands play in Camden. Not only was it a great gig, but by some turn of co-incidence we ended up backstage afterwards, drinking, chatting with the band, generally having a lot of fun. All in all, it was a brilliant night.

While we were backstage, a photographer asked if he could take some photos of us, and we happily obliged. Then tonight, we happened across his blog where he had posted one of the pictures. The reason we found the blog is because is someone had posted a link to it on the band's forum. And later, in the same thread, someone posted the photograph of my friends and I.

And that's when we ceased to be people. Because we were women, and we'd dared to go out in public we'd surrendered our humanity and become objects to be stared at, jeered at, rated and ridiculed.

Some of the men (boys?) on the forum took it upon themselves to start commenting on the photo, reposting it several times, making comments about our appearance and ranking us in order of who they wanted to have sex with first.

I have never felt so degraded and dehumanised in my life and I'm a model for fuck's sake, it's practically in my job description. Who the hell do they think they are, literally treating us like pieces of meat on a restaurant trolley? They don't know who we are, they don't know a thing about us, yet they feel OK openly judging us, on a public forum? FUCK THEM.

Did they really think we wouldn't see? Given that we're fans of the band it's hardly unlikely that we'd occasionally go on their official website. More likely they just didn't think at all. They didn't think about the consequences of their actions, they didn't think that we're real people with real feelings that might get hurt. They didn't think about how they would feel if they found people doing the same to a photograph of their mothers or sisters. Let alone themselves. It'll be a thousand years in the future before men find their bodies viewed as public property in the same way that women do now.

No, they didn't think at all, because it's just a joke to them. And that's the saddest thing. That in our supposedly enlightened society, where I'm constantly told there 's no longer a need for feminism because "men and women are treated equally now" people still think this is completely normal, acceptable behaviour. It's just such a shame, too, because the band themselves are genuinely lovely, intelligent people; you would think they would attract like-minded people as fans, but clearly that's not always the case.

The only good thing about it is that the sexists are identifying themselves, so in future women will know not to approach them with a ten foot pole. It's hypocritical really, these pathetic little creeps, hiding behind the anonymity of the internet talking about who they'd most like to fuck, when in reality they're clearly such horrible human beings that staring at a photograph is as close as they're likely to get to a real woman without paying her.

So thanks, random internet misogynists, for ruining my memories of a great night. By way of equality, I tried to rank you in order of who's most Troglodyte, but it was a tie - you're all losers.

Update: I am genuinely touched by the kindness I have received from people who have read this and got in touch. Thanks especially to the lovely photographer whose innocent photo got mixed up in this for his support and to the moderators and others from the forum for deleting the offensive stuff and for general awesomeness. Consider my faith in humanity and music restored.

Femininity and Male Entitlement

People ask me a lot why I'm a feminist and/or what sort of issues I'm concerned with. I always find it tough to answer, because there are so many things that raise my feminist hackles, and they're often things that people not sympathetic towards feminism just can't wrap their heads around. So I thought I'd try and demonstrate through examples, from time to time.

Now, I never expected Emma Watson's hair to turn into a feminist issue, believe me. I've been looking at the articles about her haircut (lot of slow news days recently, I'm guessing. When I was a reporter and there wasn't much going on I had to ring the local fire brigade to ask if they'd rescued any kittens/children/grannies/other newsworthy characters recently, but each to their own), out of my own masochistic curiosity; since I have very short hair myself I have a morbid disposition towards reading comments about how she'll now never get a man, because only girls with long hair get laid - if anything, it's nice to finally be given a reason.

Anyway, I'm well-accustomed enough to these sorts of remarks now to have developed a kind of immunity, but this one was different:

"Why are there just pictures of a 10 year old boy in this article?

Im really sorry but she was like the hottest girl on the internet, in the world to be honest, i can promise that MILLIONS AND MILLIONS on guys are just crying and weaping because she decided to do this to her hair...

she is not Hermione anymore, if i was going out with her i would dump her, i really would, she went from crazy hot girl, to 10 year old boy overnight..

i am distraught, she looks awful, just awful ( if you disagree you are likely to have short hair yourself or think its ok but you are wrong because hair like this is reserved for cancer patients and 10 year old boys)"

- James D, Cambridge, 13/9/2010 1:41

I could point out that he has clearly been judging this woman solely on her appearance, and evaluating her worth as human being based on how "hot" he judges her to be, but that's feminism 101, you guys are smarter than to need that explained, right? (I could write a separate article on the Fail's strange obsession with this young woman, but it's not that tough to work out - it's partially owing to her good looks, partially owing to the fact that they prefer their lust-objects to be barely legal - less likely to back-chat, one would imagine - and largely owing to the fact that she's very middle class and moneyed, dontchaknow.)

No, it's the utter sense of entitlement that gets to the feminist in me. He's managed to make *her* haircut all about *him* (in specific, and men in general). The whole tone suggests he thinks she should have been made to run this idea by the male population first. Skipping gleefully past the part where he bemoans that she's "not Hermione anymore" before one of you bright sparks points out that Hermione is a fictional character from a book and TV series, and as such she has never actually *been* her, we get to the part which has been more and more of a regular feature on Fail article comments these days - the classic "well, I'm sorry, but I just don't fancy her!". Like she's actually going to care that some wanker (both literally and figuratively) from Cambridge doesn't want to fuck her; but the intention of the statement is to say "male opinion is more important than your autonomy over your own body, I must be heard and you WILL listen". I don't doubt he also intends his little fantasy dumping of Watson as a warning to other women that they can expect similar treatment from Mr D should they think of trying the same (I'll be crying into the pile of money I get paid to have a short haircut over the loss).

Finally, the most clear example of the expression of male entitlement over female sexuality (because let's face it, that is what this boils down to, sex), his dismissal of the opinion of anyone who "thinks having short hair is ok" - ie, "having short hair is not ok, women do not have autonomy over their own bodies, and must look sexually available (by adhering to male standards of female beauty) at all times".

And all this is further to the nastiness of just leaving the comment in the first place. People don't write nasty comments about men's appearance just for the sake of it, but women are served up by the press on a platter as objects to look at and either praise or destroy as appropriate. Both options being just as creepy and reprehensible as the other.

I sometimes wonder why some men have such a problem with short hair. I think that's a post for another day. With Ms Watson, I can't work out what is pissing the Fail readers off more, the fact that she has defied societal norms and as such has made herself supposedly sexually unattractive and unavailable, or that their favourite fuck-piece has disappointed them all by proving to have a mind of her own. Whichever it is, I do hope she keeps up the good work.

The Daily Misogyny

I fucking hate the Mail. I would happily pulp all known copies of the Mail and turn them into papier-mache sculptures of Germaine Greer and Emmeline Pankhurst sticking their middle fingers up at Piers Hernu (in fact, I might do that anyway)
In this case, I think the swear word is justified; I know they say that profanity is the last resort of the barely literate (or something) but bollocks, sometimes a well-time f bomb is the most effective way of emphasising just how godawful something is.

‘Non-stories’, usually involving celebrities appearing in various states of undress seem to be on the increase recently, pushing their body-fascist agenda.

Skim across the Mail’s website today (I did it, so you don’t have to) and the following articles appear at various points on the Sidebar of Doom:

Sarah Jessica Parker has ’sinewy, bony legs’
Elle McPherson ‘has lumpy foot’
Natalie Imbruglia ‘wears same dress twice’
Estelle ‘has new teeth, looks better’

It’s fairly standard dross and typifies the kind of judgemental non-story the Mail specialises in. There is no story in these articles; they are not in the least bit newsworthy. Just a couple of pictures of an invariably female celebrity not conforming to the rigorous aesthetic standards the paper sets. However small their deviation (and really, who gives a shiny shite whether Natalie Imbruglia wears a dress twice) it’s written as if the celeb has left the house in, say, full Nazi regalia (they'd probably quite like that) or perhaps with a strap-on and nipple clamps.

The really unpleasant thing about it all, though, is that it encourages us to pass judgement on anyone who is in any way different – be it because they dress in an unorthodox way (or perhaps dare to wear clothes they spent good money on more than once) or because parts of their body are ‘imperfect’. It is symptomatic of a society obsessed with criticising women who have not spent every hour of their life moulding themselves to fit the current image of perfection. So Sarah Jessica Parker has muscly legs and is a bit on the slender side. Who out there thinks this is significant? Who out there cares?

It might be fluff, but it’s also becoming the norm; where once we might have brushed these things aside as just a symbol of the incredible diversity of the human body, or a celebration of freedom of choice, they are now held up as fodder for mockery. Not only is it extraordinarily rude, it’s pretty depressing too.

A Brief History Of The Hourglass (Or 'Work Will Make You Fat')

Did you know that the hourglass shape is under threat (despite being a figure possessed naturally by only around 8% of women?)

There's a problem with the fetishism of the hourglass figure, and it's that so much of it is based around this mythological assumption that women pre-20th century were all possessed of 36-24-36 figures, with bountiful bosoms and waists you could wrap a hamster round. The Fail, perhaps due to its obsession with women of 'a certain era' (i.e, pre Women's Lib, when good little women were seen and not heard and spent their days making their husbands dinner and not enjoying sex) is particularly fond of flying the hourglass flag. The article linked to bemoans the impending doom of this body type, despite the fact that very few women are fortunate enough to be blessed naturally with this Holy Grail of shapes.

You don't have to be a historian to know that women have always come in a wide variety of shapes, and these shapes have all been immortalised, at some time or another, by painters and sculptors - from the abundant curves of Ruben's women to the full busts of Amadeo Modigliani's nudes and everything in between, women have always been varied. It's not a modern phenomenon - Boticelli's Venus has little waist definition in comparison to Velazquez's depiction: the beauty ideal has changed with the centuries.

The hourglass figure was particularly coveted during the Edwardian period. Much is made nowadays of the detrimental effect the modelling industry has on young girls; how the 'thin is in' ideal has provoked anorexia among so many, and how celebrating the hourglass, as the Mail article seems to suggest, is somehow a remedy to the crushing self-doubt perpetuated by the unrealistic ideals of 'size zero'. And yet the hourglass figure has proven itself to be terribly oppressive.

You see, the hourglass is determined by a woman's genetics. Being a size 10 does not guarantee you hourglass credentials; your hips and bust must be proportionate, your waist markedly slimmer. It's a matter of shape, not of size, and of fat distribution rather than content. I'm a classic pear shape (slim ribcage, small waist, large hips and bottom) and have been despite ranging from a size 6 to a size 10; as my weight has changed, my shape has not. My bone structure is such that I will always have proportionally larger hips than waist. And breasts? Fuhgeddaboudit. (As my dear mother once told me, "From the back, you're like Lara Croft. Then you turn around...")

The hourglass shape, for those women not born to it, was obtained through punishing, restrictive corsets; the damage to bones and bodily organs was torturous. Some women became unable to support their own upper bodies without the corset as their ribs and spine had become so distorted. The desire for a body shape that was not their own so damaged some women that their bodily organs became permanently displaced.

These days, we have our own instruments of torture; the push-up bra, squashing breasts into a shape nature clearly did not intend. The magic knickers, sucking us in. They may be more subtle, but the point clearly remains; if the hourglass shape is so healthy and natural, how come we're going to increasing lengths to fake it? Liposuction, breast and bum implants, all creating the illusion of a shape fetishised despite its rarity. The Mail article suggests the hourglass is worshipped now precisely due to its rarity but let's face it; it's always been rare. We have just forsaken the painful, restrictive methods favoured by our forebears to create it. And rightly so.

The article ought to be take with a pinch of salt, as always; it can't be a coincidence that in a survey sponsored by Triumph (an underwear company whose sizes start at B cup) has the hourglass figure projected as the ideal. But if the Mail thinks the hourglass figure is somehow a healthier, more attainable ideal, it's just kidding itself - only through the luck of genetics or surgery can a woman become a hourglass. Body facism comes in all shapes and sizes, and writing disparaging remarks about Agyness Deyn in a bikini is just plain nasty (and the writer dares to call herself a feminist!) "I'm rather enjoying sitting back and watching other women struggle to attain the shape I've had since my teen years" she writes, perhaps missing the point so many feminists have been trying to hammer home for so long; championing one shape over another is inherently oppressive and exclusive. Since art across the centuries has celebrated a vast variety of female shapes, perhaps we modern, enlightened types might think to do the same....?

(Oh, and as an infuriating post-script: the article actually suggests that women's waists are becoming fatter in countries where 'women are more economically independant' - Work will make you fat! You heard it here first)

Visible Disabilities, Clothing, Advertising, and Gok Wan

I originally wrote this for my own blog, but this is an edited version.

Isabel on the DMHFfH facebook group raised a question about Gok Wan's new series of How To Look Good Naked, which started on Channel 4 in the UK last week. It is devoted to women with visible disabilities (Tracy, who is in a wheelchair, was the focus last week - the other women are blind and an amputee) who want to have a makeover and feel more confident in their bodies. MsKitton (she of our twitter feed) linked to this blog, and which point I decided I wanted to have a look at it.

I hadn't heard about this particular series, as I don't watch an awful lot of TV, but the idea struck a chord with me. After going to see a gig on Sunday, I decided that I needed an extra leg getting home and got my walking stick out (I have fibromyalgia, a chronic illness, that affects my mobility, co-ordination and ability to think clearly; I use a stick occasionally to help keep my balance - otherwise, I am not visibly disabled). I was wearing a miniskirt (with mini bustle bum-ruffles) and pink tights and boots, and I thought I looked alright. Apparently, however, I was accessorizing with a second head the way I was being stared at once I got my stick out. Attention people: just because a person has a walking stick, doesn't mean they immediately lose all interest in clothing, or mutate into an old lady. If you don't stop staring I'll shove said stick so far up your arse you'll be able to taste it.

So, yes, anyway. How to Look Good Naked... with a Difference was on Channel 4 last week, but I watched it on 4OD earlier (I fucking love internet tv catch up stuff, despite what I said about not watching a lot of tv). I don't usually watch HtLGN, mostly because I'm not a massive fan of makeover shows - I'm uncomfortable with the public critiquing of women's appearance, although at the same time I can see how it can help women become more open with each other about their body issues. I do like that HtLGN encourages body-acceptance over surgery or diets to change the women's physical appearance - it's message of confidence in one's self is a good one, at heart. That and I find Gok Wan a bit much a lot of the time. Ah well.

Like Sadie Stein at Jezebel, though, my biggest issue is that they feel they need to devote a whole series to disabled women - in a way, it is still excluding a group by virtue of circling them out for "special attention". To me, it shouldn't be a special attention thing - there should just be disabled women involved in the "regular" HtLGN series without a big thing being made about it. However, because disabled women (and men, for that matter) are so rarely seen outside of alternative and fetish modeling, perhaps drawing a big red circle and screaming "oi, dickheads, pay attention" is the way forward; we have to increase the visibility of disabled persons in shows like HtLGN (and not Britan's Missing Top Model, which was just endless rounds of trying to make typically-attractive girls who happened to be disabled look like able-bodied models while still screaming "no, they're disabled, see, they're different, we're being inclusive") before they can be seen as a normal part of the advertising and fashion industry.

I liked Tracy (the first participant) for her honesty - and her bravery - in admitting that she didn't like her body. I understand her anger at having a body that doesn't quite work "right", at being that one step further away from being "perfect". I admire her confidence, and how much she did change (while I might get almost-naked for LSG's charity drive for Haiti, total strangers in a very public place is not happening). While I don't think being confident in one's body requires the ability to get naked in front of a crowd of strangers, or that it's particularly feminist to do so, at the same time I do like that HtLGN does not require the women taking part to be typically beautiful to do so - there is a part of my feminist side that sees nudity of all forms as an important move away from restrictive bodily ideals.

It is important that disabled women and men have the same access to fashion as able-bodied people; while Tracy showed that there are sometimes clothing has to be adapted to meet the needs of a disabled person - elasticated panels in the waistband of jeans, for example - there is no real difference between asking yourself "will the sleeves catch in my wheels?" or "how long can I wear these heels for before I won't be able to walk any more?" and "will this top be too big in the chest?". They're just bodies, different sorts of bodies with different needs - but the people who inhabit them want - and deserve - the same access to and enjoyment of clothes.

The Torygraph article on the show, which is quite good.

Next step: realising just because someone isn't in a wheelchair or using a stick, doesn't mean they're not disabled.

Protecting women's rights - by removing their freedom of choice

I'm referring, of course, to France's 'progressive' proposition to fine Muslim women £700 for wearing the veil in public. The president of the ruling party claims that the new ruling is "intended to protect the ‘dignity’ and ‘security’ of women." It's a move for sexual equality, says Jean-François Copé, and nothing to do with religion (to which anyone with a modicum of intelligence will likely reply "Pull the other one!")

A nice thought, but let's look at what is really being suggested here. We make the assumption, first and foremost, that women do not choose to wear the veil. This is a very dangerous assumption, and is based primarily in ignorance and in the patronising Western idea that all Muslim women are victims of an oppressive patriarchal religion - as India Knight points out in her recent Times article, '....basically that they are all tragically mute victims of an especially monstrous patriarchy and are probably beaten or set fire to if they don’t cook supper nicely'.

Now there's an element of truth to this. Certainly some Muslim women do wear the veil because it is forced upon them; because their culture states it is what 'good' Muslim women do, or because their husbands demand it of them. And that's an unsavoury thought. But what I take umbrage with it the great white assumption that our way of life is somehow superior - that by 'freeing' a woman from the bonds of the Burqa and integrating her into our society we are somehow rescuing her, awakening her to a whole new world of feminine freedoms.

The problem is, that's largely a falsitude. Can we really talk about women's liberation from a country with the lowest rape conviction rape in Europe? When we penalise women in rape cases for utilising that "freedom of choice" and wearing a miniskirt? "She was asking for it" is still a valid criticism in our society. We are free to brand women 'sluts' and 'whores' when we consider them underdressed by our superior Western standards, or alternatively we objectify them - a woman in a tight pair of jeans is obviously asking to be leered at! Of course, the freedom to choose what we wear is only afforded to us if we fit the current 'body beautiful' - the fat woman who dares to bare is as public an enemy as the niqab-wearer. So much for freedom...
The Daily Mail, tellingly, is particularly critical and at times downright lecherous when women step out in public showing any amount of flesh. The Sun, Britain's most popular newspaper, is practically built on the "Phwoar" factor. How is any of this any less oppressive than feeling bound to the niqab? I don't doubt there are many women out there who long for the privacy and invisibility afforded by such a garment, if only to hide occasionally from the judgemental gaze of a society which rates us as bodies first, human beings second.

The biggest fallacy of all, though, is pretending that forcibly preventing women from exercising their free will (and let's not kid ourselves here that all burqa-clad women are forced into it - choice informed by religion is still choice) is somehow liberating. It is, at the end of the day, a garment like any other - no less oppressive than the push-up bra, which some women wear with gusto and others wear out of a sense of having to conform to the "maximum cleavage" type of cheap sexiness thrust upon us by 'Nuts' and 'Zoo'.

In an ideal world, Muslim women would truly have the freedom to really choose whether the veil brings them closer to Allah or serves as an obstacle to the outside world, and that's an aim worth working towards - our Muslim sisters ought to have the right to express their religion in whichever way they see fit. But taking the veil away from them means that France is no better than, say, Saudi Arabia. Oppression is oppression, whether you're forcing a woman to cover up, or forcing her to expose herself for no better reason than 'to be more like us'.

The Daily Mail: Legitimising lechery since 1896

Let me preface this rant by stating that I am not a prude. It's unfortunate that I have to state this, because I would hope that most sensible-minded people would be able to see the difference between a woman terminally pissed off at the way women's bodies have become public property for sale and exchange and a woman afraid of the female form. Hell, the human body is an amazing thing - an infinitely variable masterpiece of evolution. But that would be too highbrow for the Mail.

So with that said, here is today's bone of contention: "Proof that men just can't help looking at women's boobs", an article which manages to insult both men and women in one dash of its greasy misogynist fists, as well as cleverly shoehorning Kelly Brook into the article as an irrelevant piece of window-dressing. According to the article, a whopping 47 per cent of men notice a woman's boobs before anything else. Which, er, directly contradicts the headline - less than half of men notice a woman's chest first. And that means that more than half of men look elsewhere.

But let's forget this small, unimportant statistical detail, because without it there'd be no basis for an article essentially stating "Men are going to look at your tits whether you like it or not. Deal with it". And this is insulting to both genders. It suggests that men are drooling morons driven by their basest instincts and are incapable of escaping their caveman urges to check out a lady's fertility (based on her cup size, naturally) It suggests that they cannot engage their brains enough to realise that there is a living, thinking woman behind those two lumps of mammary tissue - 'it's evolutionary!' wails the article, in an attempt to portray dirty-mac wearing perverts as perfectly reasonable men acting on instinct. Well, Mail, if this is indeed the case, how come more than half of men are able to "resist" this "natural urge" to park their peepers in a woman's cleavage?

The comments are the usual hovel of despair and decay:

I could have told them this and saved tem a lot of money. What gets me is, women wear a plunging neckline and then complain men do not look them in the eye. Give us some time-we will get to your eyes, Honey ! Admit it, you like it or you would all be wearing turtlenecks.- Bernard ex pat, Pawleys Island USA

In many ways this comment is exemplary of the most depressing type of comment: the right to own and possess women's bodies. Because what Bernard is suggesting is that, unless a woman covers herself from head to toe (Perhaps in an oppressive burkha! Ho ho, the irony) she is automatically consenting - nay, asking - to be regarded as a collection of component body parts to be measured and weighed and rated from 1 to 10. Which is utter bollocks, of course. If I wear a short skirt, it might be because I feel warm, or I like the skirt. It isn't because I'm asking to be judged by every passing man.

"Breast size is a lot like Coke and Pepsi. Men have a preference but will take whatever's on tap. As long as it's not flat.- rebecca, mallorca

Of course! Because if you admire a lady with less than a B cup, you must be gay. Or not a man. Rebecca knows these things.

I am often tempted to pin a £50 note or a photo of a nice pair of shoes to my chest just so I can walk around shouting "Hey lady, eyes up here, talk to the face" when women look at them.Why do women who put the goods on show then moan that people look at them?- brad, NIMBY

This inflamed arsehole is the worst of the bunch, by far. Not only does he employ the old and offensive stereotype of Teh Wimmins being drawn to pretty shoes or banknotes of a high value (as if men aren't!) he refers to breasts as 'the goods'. 'The Goods'! Did I miss the memo stating that my breasts were a commodity? Did I miss the meeting where it was decided that if I wear a low cut top of any kind I obviously deserve to be ogled? No. When I buy a V-neck in a shop, it does not come with a certificate stating that, on wearing the garment, I have turned myself into an object for the perusal of any man that might wish to reduce me to pieces of aesthetically pleasing meat. (Or, judging by the shouts of 'Grow some tits!' I often encounter whenever wearing said garments, less-than-aesthetically-pleasing. Hey, looks like rebecca was on to something...)

The fact is, this whole article is filled to the brim with rancid shit, and coming from a paper that preaches sexual morality, that claims to despise the sexualisation of our 'yoof', it's somewhat ridiculous to have to swallow the idea that women should submit to the lecherous gaze of the poor primitive male, that unfortunate creature who is but a slave to his instincts. Because to believe that would be to cheapen and insult the male gender, to objectify and dehumanise the female gender, and to reduce the infinitelt comples ideas of beauty, aesthetics and attraction to sneaked peeks at cleavages and surreptitious glances at the bra-line.

Love Music, Hate Sexism

Apologies first of all, fair readers, that this post is not directly linked to the Fail. Oh, I know it's a great read, but my head was turned by baser reading material this week; yes, that's right, I almost bought a magazine about a genuinely interesting topic, instead of which skin cream will bag me a bachelor but give me cancer if I don't cook for him.

Almost, but not quite. You see, I do like bands. But I also like being a girl.

I remember quite vividly the first time it occurred to me that these two things could be incompatible. I was fourteen, we'd just got the internet, and a whole new world of fandom was opening before me. And then there it was; a scan of Kerrang magazine, Davey Havok and Dexter Holland sharing the cover with the headline, "ROCK IN THE DOCK: is rock music sexist?" I never did track down the article, but I even neverer forgot its title.

Those words have come back to me a lot over the years, most times I've read about Courtney Love or Brody Dalle, and every time I've flicked past yet another male-targeted advert in a music magazine. (Yes, I sometimes read the NME; no, that does not mean I aspire to style my manly hair into so improbable a quiff that women will dance on tables in its honour thus allowing me to look up their skirts, Shockwaves haircare). But this week really took the balls-up biscuit. Shipped out to Marylebone because Euston thought it might perhaps possibly be on fire and with a four-hour train journey ahead of me, I trudged into WHSmiths for something to read. Oh look, a new Q! But oh wait, it's shrink-wrapped to FHM.

Er, what the fuck? I stared at it for a moment, processed the fact that one of my favourite magazines had just turned to shit before my very eyes, and walked out of the shop.

I don't care how much it comes down to publishers' alliances, I don't care what snivelling little marketing strategy is behind it, I don't care if some girl whose face has started popping up in the London Lite has taken her "hippy chic" clothes off, but I am fucking livid that a magazine I really respected precisely because it was so much more interesting, well-written, and generally grown-up than its peers has done that for which every successful band risks crucifixion in the music media; sold out.

Well, I'm not buying it. I'm not sure what I'll buy instead (the NME's too flimsy, no-one at Artrocker can spell... maybe Clash will fill the gap) but Q can stick it; I'm sure FHM can tell them where.

Popstars: The Rivals *

You know how Cheryl Cole and Danni Minogue hate each other? Oh, they're always at it like cats and dogs, never have a nice word to say about each other. Danni's jealous you see, because Cheryl is younger than her, and because younger automatically means more beautiful, of course. The rivalry between them has got so bad that all at war has erupted on the set of the X Factor - a style war. Every day they try to outdo each other in that uniquely feminine way, with their outfits. so far Danni's trouncing Cheryl (apart from an embarrassing incident yesterday when they turned up both wearing the same shoes - NIGHTMARE!) and boy, isn't she smug about it.

Dear reader, you may have noticed that the previous paragraph is pure, unparallelled bollocks. I don't know Danni Minogue or Cheryl Cole, they're pop singers and judges on a tv talent show; I live in Essex and have savings totalling 47p, our worlds have yet to collide. They've never publicly said a bad word about each other, no "sources close to (either) star" have been quoted dishing the dirt on their "feud" and there's no evidence whatsoever that any more thought has gone into their outfits every day of last week beyond recognising the need to not leave the house naked.

Yet the Fail has presented every one of the ideas stated in the first paragraph as fact. Daily. I don't like the X Factor (though I'll admit to watching the auditions - yes, I'm a horrible person), Cheryl Cole (the "tv personality" I suppose, as I don't know her as a person) irritates the hell out of me and I have no strong feelings towards Danni Minogue, but Cod, I know every detail of their "feud", thanks to saturation coverage in the Fail.

It started when Cheryl joined the show on the last series. The Fail reported on the day of her appointment that Danni would "obviously feel envious and threated by her younger, thinner rival". She "could not compete" looks-wise, simply because Cheryl was a decade younger. Before filming even started they reported that Danni "would hate" Cheryl. All pure speculation, of course, and ignoring key points like the fact that beauty is subjective and thus not ruled by age and dress size.

And so it went on, and goes on, the last week being dominated by reports of how the judges were "trying to outdo each other" with their choice of clothes, with daily updates suggesting that one was "smug" and the other "furious at being outdone" without ever providing any evidence other than a photo of each of them smiling gaily, and quotes regarding "rumours" that they started, and have not been reported anywhere else.

If you're wondering what my point is, it is this. This "feud" is as manufactured as Girls Aloud theselves. It exists only within Fail writers own minds. Yet they slavishly report on it every day, along with innumerate other "catfights" between female celebrities for which no evidence exists. Why? Because they get to perpetuate their own ridiculous views on female beauty, by both implicitly and explicitly implying that Cheryl is 'more beautiful' because she is younger, and that more beautiful is 'better'. This in turn encourages women to judge each other on these terms and society in general to dismiss women as petty, insignificant creatures obsessed with make-up and clothes. Female solidarity is replaced by in-fighting; the Patriarchy rumbles on undisturbed.

The idea behind this blog was to bring our own brand of Facebook activism into the wider world, where we might one day help to inspire change. With that in mind, while there's no petition to sign and no ombudsman to complain to, we can all do something to help fight this characterisation of women as shallow bimbos in constant competition with one another - don't believe everything you read. At least if you read it in the Fail.

* With apologies to those quite rightly uninterested in fake tv talent contests.

Too Much Shit In Newspaper Hampers Readership Prospects

Only joking, sadly; The Mail manages to garner readers even with non-articles like "Too much cleavage in workplace hampers promotion prospects". Just as well we're here to rip them to shreds too, eh?

In contrast to Ayelet Waldman's unfortunate foray into Mailanism, it seems fairest to distinguish this drivel from its ostensible source ("an author... Elizabeth Squires" who is quoted but sparingly) as from research it is hard to tell precisely how stupidly sexist she is in her own right, as compared to through the Daily Mail looking-glass. Reviews for her boob books are split down the middle from the evangelical to the eviscerating, and I am loathe to make as prejudiced use of her material as the anonymous Daily Mail Reporter responsible for cobbling together this waste of words.

Dislaimer dispatched, it must however be said that for an article barely 300 words long, it packs an impressively idiotic punch - aided and abetted most of all by Ms. Squires' own research. While it is the commonest of sense to know that one should dress (and speak, and write, and behave) professionally in a professional context, this article stretches that most basic truism far beyond the bounds of objectivity.

Like many a Mail article, "Too much cleavage..." begins with a veneer of reasonableness. Many women probably have "stopped power-dressing in preference for wearing tighter and more skimpy outfits at work", and it's probably not a good idea. As a woman naturally endowed with large breasts, I know that there are some styles of top that I should steer clear of for work, in the same way that a male colleage would be expected to dispense with his Hawaaian shirts/shorts/vests/stupid T-shirts. I may not like it, but I can understand it, as part of a sartorial paradigm to which both genders must submit between the hours of nine and five. A sartorial paradigm, no less, which can be hard to negotiate at times; "I don't think women are stupid, I just don't think anyone knows the rules", says Squires. So far, so fair (if also somewhat frustrating). But not for long - this is, after all, the Daily Male.

For, after labouring this obvious point for a few pedestrian paragraphs, the Emperor's new clothes dissolve to reveal the usual bile beneath. Why, for instance, does it matter that Ms (or, interestingly, "Miss" - Christ on a bike, is this woman unmarried?! What's she doing being quoted in a national rag, ye gods?) Squires is "a mother of three"? Oh yes, it doesn't. They just don't know how else to categorise us breeding stock.

But most of all (and on Squires' head let this squarely fall) why is the research on female professional attire cited based entirely on "men examin[ing] photographs in a generic workplace in various outifts"? And why do these photographs feature "different bra sizes" rather than "different cleavages"?

The first variable assumes an almost exclusively masculine workplace, when in fact other women's opinions of these same pictures would have been just (and in some sectors, arguably more) relevant. We may still be battling the glass ceiling, but it's sure as hell getting crowded in the female wage basement, so to survey only men is sloppy to say the least. Unless of course you believe men both do and should have the first and last say in any professional sphere... goodness, I almost forgot I was reading the Male

The second variable is altogether more sinister, though. Dress is elective, and we must all pay for our choices in one way or another; however, to promote "medium-sized breasts" as a professional accoutrement is outrageous. What are we meant to do, list breast reductions or augmentations on our CVs along with which software packages we can use? "Fully fluent in French, German and your company's narrow definition of what constitutes mammaplastic professional perfection"? (Not to mention dressing "discreetly" - because if you have to be heard, you had better not be seen as well).

But perhaps this article's biggest failing is one of omission; the question should not just be how to dress for work, but also why "increasing numbers [are] showing more cleavage at work by wearing plunging necklines and tight tops". It couldn't possibly be that in institutionally sexist environments, some women have decided that if they're going to be judged on their looks anyway, they may as well exploit the system, could it? And it couldn't be that this professionally unprofessional approach will only disappear when male sexism does, could it? Of course not; this is not just sexism, this is Daily Mail sexism - hotpot most definitely included.

Middle-aged woman in ageing shocker

Sorry for my absence in recent weeks I have been, um, otherwise engaged.

Also, the piece I was due to tear to shreds – a sickening article in The Telegraph where a quite frankly amateurish “scientific” study on rape at the University of Leicester was further misinterpreted to say that a. women who dress provocatively deserve a raping and b. men who sleep around a bit are more likely top be rapists (puh-lease!!) – was pulled and apologised for by the aforementioned pseudo-intellectual right-wing rag. Cheers to Ruth for pointing it out though.

However, I have found something else to get my hairy, gluten-free goat. The Heil website leads with this piece:

http://www.dailymail.co.uk/tvshowbiz/article-1198795/Elle-Macpherson-shows-fine-Bodywork-46-gleams-car-launch.html

To spare you the horror of having to read these loathsome twats’ ‘work’, I will summarise:

- Elle MacPherson has some cellulite just above her knees.

- The fact that Elle, 45, has some cellulite just above her knees is of some surprise.

- Elle is 45. Elle shouldn’t be 45, or something.

- And, the biscuit-taker (direct quote):

'Creping is also more common in skinnier people. Fat tends to pad out the skin and supports it more. If you have a very low body mass index like Elle does then basically you have skin travelling over muscle with no fat in between. Whereas if she was slightly plumper, she would not have the creping phenomenon as much.'

Ooh I could crush a grape.

So women should not have cellulite. They also, it seems, should not get older. Especially not if they are supermodels. Furthermore, they should not be skinny. Yet, inevitably, people get a. older and b. their metabolism slows down.

So what to do? Cull all women above the age of 35. Especially if they’re really attractive former models. Shit, time’s running out Karo…

Love all?

So Wimbledon is finally over, and I'm breathing a sigh of relief for two different reasons. First of all, I don't enjoy tennis; it's dull as anything and so far as I can tell, designed exclusively for the upper classes. Who else would pay £12 for strawberries? However, for the week Wimbledon was on, I happened to be working in an office full of people who think tennis is the sport of kings, or possibly Gods, and as such the big screen in the reception area where I worked was duly switched to the BBC for all day coverage, leading to there constantly being a gaggle of suited bankers hanging around my desk all day chatting almonst themselves (or worse, to me) about the tennis. This, in case you were wondering when I was going to get to it, leads me to the second reason I'm glad Wimbledon is over: it brought out amongst these men and women such misogyny that I had to spend seven hours a day restraining myself from reaching over the desk and smacking them in the mouth.

I speak, of course, about Venus And Serena Williams. Now I never heard anyone once comment on Andy Murray's physique (a bit weedy looking, if you ask me) or ponder if the male player who was 6'7 had an unfair advantage. But when it came to the Williams sisters, two dedicated atheletes who are famously known for having the muscular physiques of, um, a dedicated athelete, the bile poured.

"Oh, I hope she doesn't win - look at her, she looks like a man", "yuck, I hope she gets knocked out, she's revolting, so manly", "it's unfair for them to get this far, they look like men", "I prefer Venus to Serena, at least she's a bit more feminine looking..." - yep, my charming colleagues, male and female, were rooting against two talented players because they don't have the most feminine of physiques (I'd also ask whoever wrote the book saying muscles were a masculine attribute, but I fear that's a different topic for a different day).

It just goes to show how thin the veneer of equality we have these days truly is. Yes, we can have female atheletes but heaven forbid they actually *look* like atheletes. Women players now get equal prize money to men, but we only really approve if they remain slim and delicate, and you know, non-threatening. Because that's what it's about, isn't it? We, men and women, don't like strong women, still. Women should be fragile, delicate, submissive, or so the Patriarchy would have us believe, so we freak out when someone comes along who challenges that ideal.

Add to that the fact that Wimbledon officials have admitted to putting the most attractive female players on centre court, regardless of ranking, or the importance of the match (hence Serena Williams, 2nd in the world found herself playing an important match on court number 2, which attracts virtually no tv coverage while two unknown but nubile blonde beauties battled it out for the cameras on the centre stage) and the constant lingering close-ups of whichever women in the audience that day had made the sartorial mis-step of wearing a low-cut top in the sweltering heat, and I think we can all agree tennis is a strong contender for the prestigious title of Most Sexist Sport Ever.

No, Burger King, I don't want your seven inches in my mouth

So Burger King have got a new phallus shaped burger called, wait for it, the Seven Incher (oh hee hee, ha ha, such wit). How are they going to advertise it? By posing a woman like a blow-up doll and shoving into her mouth of course! With clever headline about "blowing" your mind, natch:

http://perezhilton.com/2009-06-25-do-hamburgers-make-ya-horny#respond

*Sigh* Because that's all women are, just vessels, waiting anxiously to take your seven inches, any which way we can get them. Except if you look at this model closely, her eyes are widened in alarm/terror. She doesn't want your seven inches. But your going to make her take it anyway, yeehaw!

Because rape is HILARIOUS, obviously. Maybe that's an extreme reaction to this, maybe most people won't see it as incitement to commit sexual assualt. Hopefully. But what is clear to anyone viewing this advert is that women are subservient, women are here to provide sexual pleasure to men, whether they say they want to or not, women or of little value. Hey we're just a marketing tool, sex sells, after all.

And just when will the cock jokes start to wear thin? I always wonder how men feel about having their anatomy reduced to an un-funny one liner. I guess advertising execs will stop making penis jokes at about the same time they make an advert alluding to the idea that women are sexually dominant over men. I.e. never.

NB: A word to the wise, avoid the comments on that article if you want to avoid the rage. Nobody is implying that oral sex in and of itself is demeaning to women. If you don't get that, you're not clever enough to be allowed access to the internet, imo.

Gamin' Ladies: Are there any true Femiheroes in the world of videogaming?

As an avid gamer myself, I have sometimes found myself searching the male-dominated world of videogames for a positive representation of a strong, capable woman. And often, when I feel like I might have found one, something will come along to scupper the revelation. Now, I know the Daily Mail teaches us that computer games are Bad - playing Grand Theft Auto will inevitably lead to a life of drug abuse and crime, and playing Mario Kart will cause children to throw banana skins out of moving vehicles, causing a surge of road accidents. But putting those cautionary tales aside for a moment, let's look at some of the leading ladies of videogames, and their relative femihero merits.

1) Lara Croft. The First Lady of gaming, Ms Croft has amassed a loyal following among gamers - Tomb Raider was one of the first major titles on the original Playstation. And there's not much Croft can't do - she runs! She jumps! She shoots things! She grabs ledges and shimmies over abysses. She's a strong, independant woman, self-motivating and determined. And she certaintly doesn't need a man to help her. Gamers may notice that, in the later games, a male team were assembled at Croft Manor - they talk Lara through some of the trickier missions, although she's always quick to put them in their place if they give her a hard time.
So far, so good. But there's one little problem with Lara, and that's the small matter of her blow up doll appearance. Lara habitually dresses in tiny hotpants and a tight tank top. While Sam Fisher, Solid Snake and Master Chief are dressed appropriately for their physical, violent outings, Lara is very exposed. And with boobs like those, it figures she'd need a little more support. Alternative costumes include a skin tight catsuit and a slashed-to-the-thigh ballgown. So ultimately, to make Lara acceptable to (mostly male) gamers, the strong female angle has been watered down by her sex object appearance - it's almost as if gamers would be unable to accept such a strong woman if she were wearing, say, combat trousers and a sweatshirt.

2) Tifa Lockhart - Final Fantasy 7's leading lady, Tifa is an ass-kickin', bar-ownin' martial arts expert. Part of an underground rebellion against The Man, Tifa is strong, smart and capable of leading, as she proves when main man Cloud is rendered useless through illness. The problem with Tifa, however, is Lara Croft syndrome once again - her strength is diluted by her overtly sexual appearance. Tifa fights in a miniskirt and tank top, with proportions not dissimilar to UK 'glamour model'/freakshow Jordan. Once again, she is made hyper feminine in order to make her strength acceptable - she becomes a caricature of sexuality. The other issue with Tifa is her seeming weakness without Cloud - it's almost as if she's powerless without his support.

3) Jill Valentine, one of the main characters in the Resident Evil series. And in her first outing, she appears to have avoided Lara Croft syndrome: she isn't characterised by her 'hotness', kicks an appropriate amount of ass and gets out alive. By the time Resident Evil 3 came out, however, the designers must have decided there wasn't enough non-zombie flesh on display and promptly redesigned Jill's costume. This coincided with her reappearance as a main character.

I'm just scratching the surface of gaming heroines here, and I may well examine some more key characters in future posts, but today's conclusion is this - all three women abovementioned are strong, capable and (mostly) independent. They can fight as well as any man, and are capable of besting men in combat. They do what they have to do without complaint. For all these reasons, they are excellent role models, true femiheroes. But I can't shake off the nagging anger at the need to portray them so sexually. Can a woman not be strong and attractive without dressing impractically and skimpily? And can we not portray 'attractive' without resorting to the tired old formula of 'big tits, skinny waist, flesh on display'? And, perhaps the biggest question of all - why does a female character have to be conventionally attractive at all? Of course there is nothing wrong with being good looking, but where's our female Gordon Freeman?

I can't help but wonder who game manufacturers are trying to please by dressing their female characters in tiny hotpants and tank tops, and by inflating their proportions - is this really the only way we can make our videogaming heroines acceptable to the mainstream gamer?

Horny Hernu vs. The Front Page Campaign

What is it with the name “Piers”? The first that springs to mind is of course Mr. Morgan, but lately it’s been his equally slimy, paunched namesake getting (he wishes) on my tits; Piers Hernu, sometime Daily Mail contributor and, as I have had to hear twice on the radio this week, former editor of Front magazine and contributor to FHM. Journalism is of course the world’s second oldest profession – but no more so than in Mr. Hernu’s case does one suspect it was only an excuse to sidle a little closer to the oldest.

The reason for the BBC’s infliction of his dulcet tones is the Front Page Campaign, which, having recently won lottery funding, is now also receiving some media attention, leading to on-air debate between its founder (Amy King) and Piers Hernu. The campaign’s stated aim is “to protect children from offensive media and restore choice for adults”, particularly regarding “sexually explicit photographs and language”. In practical terms, this is a demand that such material be age-restricted and placed on the top shelf, out of sight and reach of children, but still perfectly accessible to adults. So what’s all the fuss about? Horny Hernu’s ego, apparently.

The first broadcast took place on 5live on Monday. I wondered at first if he's got real live friends to go out with at the weekends, because Hernu still sounded drunk; judging from his second performance on Radio Ulster on Wednesday, he’s either an inept alcoholic or has mugged one for their baseless bravado. When he wasn’t busy sniggering or talking over Ms. King (a tactic most of us leave behind with ill-judged haircuts and notes home from the teacher) Hernu repeated a couple of MENSAesque points over both interviews.

Firstly, lads’ mags are “clearly not sexually explicit” because “um, you know, I think that there’s a, a big, ermmm” – *wheezy silence* – “problem here with, with, with mistaking, erm, toplessness with pornography”. Well, quite. After all, the term definitely wasn’t “sexually explicit” rather than “pornography”, and anyway tits and ass have absolutely nothing to do with male heterosexual arousal – it’s really all just an NHS-sponsored biology campaign. Everybody else can tell that lads' mags are sexually explicit – why doesn't one of their own contributors have the Nuts to admit it?

Then, on Wednesday, he squawked that “if you were to suggest this to any other country in the whole of Europe, they would laugh you out, you know, th- they would just laugh at you, because the rest of Europe has a much more enlightened attitude towards nudity and sexuality”.

Question: has Hernu ever been to the rest of Europe? I know it’s a funny foreign place all the way across the channel, but had he ever lumbered aboard a Eurostar, he might conceivably be aware that, actually, the rest of Europe wouldn’t need to “laugh… out, you know, laugh at” anyone for starting a Front Page Campaign, because they simply don’t have a comparable lads’ mag “culture” to protest in the first place. Their “enlightened attitude towards nudity and sexuality” would balk as much at Zoo as it does every summer at its escapees’ yearly migration to Eye-beef-fah. (And if we really had a problem with “sexually repressed morality”, we might have less of a problem with teenage pregnancy which – oh look! – is the highest in Europe).

So far, so dense. But he wouldn’t be a proper little sexist without a good bit of cliché thrown in, would he? Never fear, he’s on the case; “it’s usually some embittered old harridan who’s got- who gets on her high horse about this, and, and, you know, nobody actually listens, ’cause this has come up time and time again, you know, various women have fronted these kind of campaigns and, as usual, it, er, it turns out that there aren’t lots of people up in arms about this, there aren’t lots of children traumatised by this, it’s just, it’s just not the case that people are bothered about it”. Well yes, of course; “women” – the word spat out like curdled milk – taking issue with it is entirely different from proper “people” doing so, isn’t it?

Ms. King’s citation of surveys indicating that 98% of the general public agree with the campaign was met with further bluster, and burblings about young men being “slowly broken in, as it were, to the harsh realities” – *snort*– “of the sexual world”. But whose sexual world? Lads’ mags have nothing to do with the delicate flowering of male sexuality and everything to do with the entrenchment of male sexism. An airbrushed, submissive, surgically-enhanced, Aryan model flaunting her knickers and knockers isn’t sex; it’s wank-fodder. Wank-fodder, no less, for the spotty teenager who can’t get a real girl because he doesn’t know how to - and Nuts and Zoo sure as hell aren’t going to teach him.

Well, maybe if he's really lucky he'll grow up to be as “embittered” about “various women” as poor old Piers Hernu himself. Sexual enlightenment, my arse.

Oh dear Cod.

Woman in not 100% utterly perfect shocker.

This article can't be serious. Can it?

I'd love to see "Daily Mail Reporter"'s flawless body, if he/she feels it's acceptable to criticise someone for having a slightly odd thumb.

This is quite possibly the most ridiculous case of body fascism I've ever encountered. From an objective viewpoint, Megan Fox is an attractive woman (not that it should matter whether she is or not), and to write an article trying to claim she isn't purely for having a slightly short thumb is absolutely ludicrous.

Yet, of course, they still find an excuse to publish multiple pictures of an scantily-clad woman, despite simultaneously castigating her for not being quite 100% perfect.

Has the Fail somehow descended into self-parody without us even realising?

"The views expressed... are those of our users and do not necessarily reflect the views of MailOnline."

In this litigious age, guest publications about toothpaste tubes on Have I Got News For You probably feature many a disclaimer, but the Daily Mail must need them more than most. After all, even a police force that is itself still enormously sexist and racist might have to hold them to account if they printed their readers' comments without such equivocation. Of course, anywhere that invites public comment will draw its share of fuckwittery (just look at dear old CiF) but just how much responsibility should the Mail bear for the user-generated bile throughout their website?

Their Terms and Conditions make interesting reading. In amongst all the usual legalese about "waiv[ing] all your moral rights" by submitting content (that must really stick in their self-righteous readership's craw!) they also prohibit anything "threatening, defamatory, offensive, abusive, liable to incite racial hatred, discriminatory or" - of course - "blasphemous". This might seem reasonable enough, but for two things; firstly, the fact that they select what to publish, and secondly, that they deviate from their own guidelines.

Accurate journalism (forgive my inclusion of this phrase in a blog about the Daily Mail) depends upon reporting all angles of a given story, including those you don't like. This would excuse the decision to publish the gamut of submitted comments were there not such a clear, discriminatory bias; even with a wealth of objective and printable comments to choose from, the Mail consistently chooses to publish the most bigoted, even if this means repetiton of the unintelligible. Perhaps most tellingly of all, they would rather publish none at all than any that undermine the party li(n)e; the tale of Hans Blomberg's live televised sexual harassment of his co-host, for instance, remains conspicuously comment-free despite a number of cogent submissions made by various groups and individuals. Thus, although the Daily Mail cannot be held responsible for the content submitted, they are distinctly accountable for its editorial use.

On then to their supposed distaste for the offensive, abusive and discriminatory (I omit the small matter of "racial hatred" only for reasons of time, space and theme - feel free to submit your own treatises on this issue!) Prohibiting something in one's Terms and Conditions would seem to imply its unsuitability for publication, certainly on so controlled a basis as the one upon which Daily Mail commenting operates.

Behold, then, a few pearls of wisdom from merely the previous week that the Daily Mail considers neither offensive, abusive nor discriminatory*:

"She's quite hot, and just the right amount of stupid."

"Looks so much younger and really soft and pretty, just as women ought to be. Take note, girls..."

"people are losing their homes and havent got jobs and this silly women are having cash thrown at them... get some kids, a dog and a tubby hubby"

"Women should realise that men prefer long hair on women. Those who say they prefer short masculine styles are lying (to their wives/girlfriends with horrible short masculine hair)."

"As a red blooded male, I think [Cheryl Cole] looks fantastic, so get to the back of the queue all of you fatties."

"Single British women... are not comparable, most are overweight, bossy and lazy and oh, CAN'T cook"

"only a blind man would prefer UK women to what is the 'average' girl in Eastern Europe"

"There are Not many single women over 25 in the UK that are worth the effort 4 a relationship 2day. Wane be men/Power trippers/ drunks/pretentious, and all the problems they get into."

"Come on English women - start being feminine again!"

"British women...are too forward and not sophisticated."

"You only have to look at what British woman have become to realise why men are now looking elsewhere."

"Woman want their cake and eat it. Sorry ladies, you can do everything we do, but we can't have the kids so make a choice for crying out loud. is this why we have spoilt middle class kids running amok, spoilt little brats the lot of them. is this why marriages are falling apart. JOB OR KIDS not both."


And the award for Most Prejudice In One Post goes to:

"Although it may be easy for people to mock these guys i know exactly where they are coming from.
I am a guy in my early thirties not too ugly and doing fairly well for myself.
However, finding a woman in Britain who doesn't swear constantly, is fairly intelligent, keeps fit and healty and is not engrossed with chav celebrity pap is almost an impossibility !!!! and add to that pretty, single and can cook, no chance.

Its only a matter of time before they cotton on to this sort of business in Africa where i'm sure the women may actually be greatful."


*All comments quoted sic, much as it pains my linguistic sensibilities.

Last Post on the Sexually-Harassed Bugle

It is sadly common for feminists to be accused of hating men; all the more so feminazis, presumably bitter at male rejection of our Hitlerian moustaches (because all howwid feminininiths of any description are ugly hairy lesbians in want of a man to turn them, doncha know). Over the last few days, this blog could to the untrained eye have appeared to be conforming to this stereotype, what with all our decidedly unwomanly protestation at uninvited male attention. I'm sure we'll be back to attacking the other sort of Mail soon enough, but I couldn't help giving one last hurrah today.

Like any self-unrespecting binge-drinking ladette at the root of 25% of violent crime, I went out last night. I went out in Temple to be precise, which being at the opposite end of London to where I live, involved lots of walking and night buses. I was actually pretty lucky, though; I was only harassed twice all night. There was nothing remarkable about either incident, but it got me thinking, in my remnant rage this morning, about the worst cases I or my friends have encountered before. So, in no particular order, I give you...

Passing Pervert Top Trumps

1. "C'mon... I hit women all the time".
I was 15, he looked about 12. This was the last trick up his salacious sleeve after following me through an arcade in the middle of the day, asking me if I gave blow-jobs. His two little brothers looked on.

2. "But, you are ugly".
She was 15, he was in his early 20s. She was not, and never will be, a minger. He and his friends, spending their Friday nights surrounding groups of underage girls in shitty nightclubs, most definitely were.

3. "I'm not going to stop running until you stop walking".
I was 16, he looked about 14. As I strode back from school one afternoon, he puffed his laboured way along beside me for a good ten minutes before I outran him for the last sprint home.

4. "Ssss, ssss, tsk tsk".
Repeatedly, over the last ten years, in a variety of locations. The most memorable was a middle-aged man accosting we two 14-year-olds in a lunchtime market... with his wife and two children a metre or so behind him.

5. "You look fifteen, let me take you out for dinner... I just wanna know you".
I'm 23, he looked in his late 30s. He was the cashier in my local Tesco's, and spent several months trying to chat me up at the check-out, following me around the shop, and latterly throwing temper tantrums when I persisted in telling him that I was not interested and to leave me alone.


Those are the first five I can think of off the top of my head. Other charming non-verbal advances have included the threat of a hit-and-run when the guy drove his white van up onto the pavement for a closer look, and miming slitting our throats and/or shooting us.

Honestly, I don't know what we silly women are complaining about.

Let's talk about breasts...

Partly inspired by the sublime Jenny Mac's post yesterday, I feel like it's time to get this off my chest (oh ho ho!)

Jenny Mac asked why so many people feel as if a woman's breasts are public property, and I completely understand her point of view. We're looking at the issue from different ends of the spectrum - I am underendowed in the boob department. Having grown up in a strongly matriarchal family as the only girl with less than a B-cup, I've long struggled with my 'lack' - since I was 15 and realised that I would not suddenly 'blossom', I have felt inadequate and, yes, unattractive. I spent hours looking at ways to increase my bust, researching lotions and potions and pills that promised to gift me a bosom. I thought long and hard about saving up for implants. I habitually wore a bra with padding so thick it could deflect bullets, wore slimy chicken fillets and tried to convince myself it was worth the discomfort to look like I had a chest.

It took me until I turned 20 to actually question why I felt so bad. I had always assumed that it was simply a consequence of being unlucky, and that I should feel bad. I remember being in Marks and Spencers, getting measured for the eleventy billionth time in the vain hope that I'd grown to a B-cup. I remember almost wanting to cry when, for the eleventy billionth time, the assistant proclaimed me to be a 30A. I was 20 years old and an A cup, and wanted to cry because of it. And, as I looked in the mirror, I remember thinking - "How did I ever let myself feel so awful about it?"

And then I really started thinking about it. From an early age, I was surrounded by propaganda telling me how my body should look. My parents read The Sun, and my main education about the adult female body came from those improbably proportioned women. My mum was, and still is, quite busty. I believed that a woman should have a large bust, and I was offered no evidence to suggest this might be otherwise. And with the advent of plastic surgery, the few small-busted women who might have been role models in terms of accepting myself showed that they could not accept theirselves, and voluntarily opted for risky, painful, invasive procedures in order to rid themselves of their inferior, smaller breasts.

And what's changed? Newspapers still champion the body beautiful, which is still impossibly contradictory - you must be slim, but not skinny. Curvy, but not fat. Busty, but without a hint of sag and certainly not fake. Tanned, but not orange. Tabloids happily print non-stories as long as they can punctuate it with pictures of women in their bras. Sometimes they fail to acknowledge smaller-busted women completely. Such is the public perception of complete ownership of a woman's breasts that, when a busty tennis player decided to have a breast reduction, a petition was immediately set up pleading with her to leave them be.

Breasts have become like kitchen appliances, or garden furniture. They are advertised in all of our tabloids, garishly displayed on Page 3 or in a 'hilarious' nipple slip article. We discuss a celebrity's breasts with complete disregard for the fact that they are part of her body - they might as well be detachable accessories. We criticise Keira Knightley for daring not to disguise her awful small breasts, we drool over cleavage like dogs over meat. Is it any wonder that I, and so many other small-busted young ladies grow up feeling as if we are not good enough?

Dubious metaphors aside, breasts really have become public property, and I hope I haven't come across as bashing my bigger-busted sisters as I completely understand their plight - it is assumed that they'll love the constant stares, comments, wolf whistles, yells of 'get 'em out!'. They are treated as spoilsports if they won't share their breasts with the world, and are treated as sluts if they do show any skin. Our plight is opposite, but inextricably linked: we see boob job adverts on the Tube to work, we're neglected by bra manufacturers. We're invisible next to our bustier friends. We're instructed at all corners to push up, to enhance, to pad out. In fact, the only thing we're not told to do is question: who really has the right to make us all, big busted or small busted, feel bad about the way we were born? Why do we continue to accept this almost fascist attitude to our bodies, to the point where we can't wear what we choose in fear of being judged or ridiculed? Why do we lay ourselves on the surgeon's slab and have bags pushed into our breasts because other people have decided we aren't good enough?

Isn't it time to take back our bodies?

Oh for the love of... Breasts, apparently.

I apologise in advance for this blog. I have been out, and had drinks, with work and I am very grateful to be able to work in the current climate. But this riled me right up.

Earlier, in the pub, we were all standing about enjoying a nice pint, in my case cider (or a nice lame fruit or wine based drink for the ladies, allegedly) and I noticed our overall manager (let's call him Bob) was checking out my breasts, in a rather blatant manner.

I was drunk, but not stupid - I called him on it. I'm not worried he's my boss's boss's boss's whatever, I asked him why he had just done that so obviously (it was so obvious other people had noticed and suddenly became able to speak up against our admittedly otherwise cool "leader" who was earlier dissing the Tories, BNP blah blah and being agreeably left wing)...
His response?

He totally agreed he had been looking. Did anyone argue with this? Several other guys claimed ignorance and said "well, we've not noticed" and made "comical" eye shielding gestures. The women? Well in particular one lady, I'll call her Mavis, said "you have the best breasts in the department, they are amazing" or something along those lines. To be fair none of the ladies gave me any grief, but that's mainly because they know me I think.

I guess the whole point of this rather crap blog is: WHY do breasts become public property once they are 34DD or whatever size? Why are ANY breasts public property, to the extent a 32AA woman feels she should have a risky enlargement? Why do women accept this as well and nod along with men who are objectifying women in this way?

I am now home, and even though I was warned "Bob" was a letch (I told him this to his face) I still feel somehow I am in the wrong.

I had a great conversation with a woman in my dept today and she said, how would men feel if they were confronted by half naked pictures of their gender all over the papers and magazines and how she would love to do some sort of experiment where men would understand what it feels like for your body to feel like someone else's property. It is arguably why I didn't punch someone tonight!