I have an account, so copied it.
ver the weekend, I decided to “identify as male”. I would watch a lot of sport on TV, occasionally looking up to ask: “What’s for dinner?”
I would think about mowing the lawn, but would decide that the ground was still too wet and it was better to give it another day to dry out. I would check the cricket score and groan. I would ask my other half: “Where did we put my X?” I would open a bottle of red wine to “let it breathe”, and take the Telegraph crossword to the loo for 26 minutes. I would check the cricket score and pour myself a glass of red wine.
“Where did we put my X?”, I would ask Himself, who had come in with an ominous number of carrier bags full of new clothes and shoes. “Don’t you mean, where did YOU put it, darling?” he said. Honestly, no call for sarcasm. Men! He’s been impossible during the menopause.
Naturally, while identifying as male, I would give myself a good couple of hours to mentally prepare for the Champions League final, texting my friend Clare, a lifelong Liverpool fan, and engaging in vital, pre-match analysis.
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I would raid the larder for snacks. “Where did you put the Pringles?” I would pour myself a well-earned drink after a surprisingly demanding day. “Let’s get an Indian, shall we?”
If the Government has its loony way with the Gender Recognition Act, people will be able to declare themselves to be a man or woman to get all the legal rights of either sex
I would watch the match while Himself brought me my Korma on a tray. Later, I would endlessly rehearse the wonders of a bicycle-kick goal scored by Gareth Bale while Himself cleared up after the takeaway. “Darling, where did we put my… ?”
Not very complicated this bloke business, is it? I reckon I could fit it in while identifying as female. If the Government has its loony way with the Gender Recognition Act, we may soon have to. Changes to the Act could enable people to simply declare themselves to be a man or woman to get all the legal rights of either sex.
Three cheers for the doughty dames who crashed the male-only bathing pond on Hampstead Heath to protest this absurdity, much to the annoyance of the front-crawling chaps. The group was inspired by #ManFriday, a nationwide campaign by Mumsnet to encourage women to “self-identify” as men on Fridays, thus pointing out the hazards of allowing men to use single-sex facilities.
To highlight the hazards of allowing men to use single-sex loos, the #ManFriday campaign encourages women to “self-identify” as men on Fridays
To highlight the hazards of allowing men to use single-sex loos, the #ManFriday campaign encourages women to “self-identify” as men on Fridays CREDIT: LUCY NICHOLSON/REUTERS
The female protestors had fake beards and one brave lady sported a mankini. (She looked like a Rubens trapped in a yellow condom.) They told staff at the pond that, as they now “identified” as male, they had every right to swim there, but were forced to leave when police arrived.
Protestor Hannah Clarke sounded distinctly, er, female when she apologised profusely for protesting. “I would hate to think I had upset anybody here today,” she said. Oh, do man up, woman!
“We want to keep single-sex places single-sex,” Hannah continued. “Clearly, it’s not just women that want them to stay single-sex, is it?”
Truly, we live in confusing times for people of both, either or neither gender. In an article on Poldark for Radio Times, the broadcaster Mariella Frostrup admits, with welcome frankness, to a double-standard when it comes to women expressing desire for the gorgeous, smouldering Captain Ross as he emerges from the waves, naked save for a tactical cloth over his demelzas.
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Sweary Godmother
@SwearyGodmother
#ManFriday at Hampstead Ponds ended up slightly more confrontational than expected...#waronwomen#sexmatters#randomactsofmanliness
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Just as it is deemed perfectly respectable for women to fall into an ecstatic reverie over Daniel Craig, also coming out of the sea in Speedos briefer than an MI6 codeword. In under a decade, we have moved from wet T-shirt contests (disgusting, misogynistic, exploitative, sexist) to hot men in wet trunks (phwoar!). Is this what is meant by equality?
As Frostrup says: “If a male colleague had penned those lines about any of Aidan Turner’s equally appealing female co-stars, his cries of contrition would be drowned out by twitter’s Troll Chorus.”
Funnily enough, Eleanor Tomlinson, the stunning redhead who plays Poldark’s fiery wife, has just said she expects to be paid as much as the drama’s eponymous star. While, presumably, retaining the right to not be treated as a sex object, which is how Aidan Turner is regarded every time he whips off his shirt to cut the grass. Surprising how much vigorous scything those Cornish backyards need of a Sunday evening.
I’m not complaining. Captain Ross’s lightly glistening pecs are one of life’s delightful diversions. But is it fair that female viewers are allowed to celebrate Poldark’s return, in a spirit of giggly girly gawping, while male viewers increasingly live in fear of expressing admiration for the opposite sex, lest they find themselves falling foul of a furious #MeToo thread on social media?
Broadcaster Mariella Frostrup admits to a double-standard when it comes to women expressing desire for Poldark star Aidan Turner
Broadcaster Mariella Frostrup admits to a double-standard when it comes to women expressing desire for Poldark star Aidan Turner CREDIT: PA/ BBC
An American actress complained recently that a critic who had described her character as wearing “baggy clothing” was clearly implying he would prefer her to have been wearing something more tight-fitting. When we reach the point where a simple, factual description of appearance (chosen by costume designer and director) is seen as egregiously sexist, then we are entering a potentially very dark chapter in male-female relations.
The second series of Margaret Atwood’s The Handmaid’s Tale, just beginning on Channel 4, is a chilling reminder of what a puritan society, drained of all joy and humour, looks like. (I found the first episode almost too upsetting to watch.)
In the green room at the Hay Festival on Monday, I saw Atwood herself surrounded by girls dressed in the handmaids’ shame-red dresses and penitential white bonnets. The story is said to have acquired a spooky relevance in an America where the President’s advice on attractive women is to “grab ’em by the pussy”.
It might equally be seen as a cautionary tale for the #MeToo movement as it targets men – some monsters, others mere flawed mortals. This makes many women, who would otherwise be supportive, feel uncomfortable. If the perfectly natural admiration of the female form is suppressed, and compliments are seen as oppressive not charming, then how long before women are advised to cover themselves as a barrier against male desire? And we all know where that ends up.
For a man to lawfully be allowed to simply announce he is a woman, or vice versa, gets us into deep water - and not just Hampstead Ponds
The Government must think again about making changes to the Gender Recognition Act. For a man to lawfully be allowed to simply announce he is a woman, or vice versa, gets us into deep water, and not just in Hampstead men’s bathing pond. Most people don’t mind men’s clubs or girls’ nights. (Better things to worry about.) Most people prefer the privacy and refuge of single-sex lavatories. Most people enjoy the snap, crackle and pop of difference between the sexes. Most people don’t identify with any of this stuff.
When I tried to “identify as a man”, I found myself resorting to gender stereotypes (apologies to male readers; I’m sure you can get your own dinner and don’t check the cricket score more than, ooh, three times an hour!). A woman should be allowed to be however and whoever she wants. So should a man. No need to “identify” as the other.
Now, if you’ll forgive me, I must go off and practice my Bale bicycle kick.