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I don’t really care what people tell children – when you believe in Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny and the Tooth Fairy, one more fib won’t hurt. But I am infuriated by the growing notion, posited in some touchy-feely quarters, that all women are, or can be, beautiful.
It may be a cliche, but it’s true – the build-up to Christmas is so much more pleasurable than the actual day itself.
One Christmas build-up tradition, however, has totally bypassed me – that of going up to town and ‘doing a show.’
No one knows ‘men’ as such, any more than anyone knows ‘women,’ and if they do generalise they’re probably trying to hide their own ignorance. You might know one ‘man,’ yes, or even lots of individual ‘men’.
I have experienced jealousy, possessiveness, verbal abuse and violence from men, but I have also experienced jealousy, possessiveness, verbal abuse and violence from women, usually when I failed to respond to their advances.
When did women whose looks are not their living start conducting themselves like the simpering inmates of an Ottoman empire seraglio?
As a kid, I grew to define what I didn’t want my life to be like by sitting behind moaning women on the bus, hearing them bang on about their aches and pains, both real and imagined.
Most women are wise to the fact that lots of men love a cat-fight, and thus go out of their way not to give them one.
Stress’ was the catch-all every pamper-pedlar I spoke to used to explain why healthy women feel the need to be regularly patted, petted and preened into a state of babyish beatification.
These women whose antics we smirk at good-naturedly in the pap-traps put themselves out there at least partly on their beauty they are in showbiz, and showing what they’ve got is part of their business as much as it is for male show-ponies from the Chippendales to George Clooney.