Saturday, February 23, 2008

I heard the news today oh boy

I was a very serious young thing at university. It was an era of Political Correctness, a left wing code of cool. We argued about how to rewrite women without the “men” in it (with ‘i’s and ‘y’s or perhaps just wear overalls and grunt it instead). I argued with the colleagues at the uni radio station about banning a certain Violent Femmes song because it debased wimmin (what the song actually was eludes me now after looking through the rather innocuous lyrics in the early Femmes albums – maybe we were just incensed about men taking the name?).

I’d shared houses with people dedicated to changing the world (at least one actually succeeded in that but he was very crap about doing the housework and would allow his girlfriend to pop over and do a spot of vacuuming when domestic tension teetered on a Cold War). In retrospect, I don’t care who cleans the toilet – as long as it is not always me.

When I hopped off the plane in London with my one way ticket, I was outside the South Africa embassy at the regular Friday demo against apartheid by the end of the first week. And what a wondrous first date that was for a PC womyn like myself. I’d landed myself a good lefty lad about town the day after I arrived with talk of all things anti-Thatcher and going to Columbia to pick coffee.

Said lad had good PC credentials as an ex-NUS president (oh for the days of compulsory student unionism, how on earth will future Members of Parliament earn their “P Plates”?) and now worked sedately as a media officer in a government organization. He knew the right language though to sweep me right off my jetlagged little feet, well, til I got my travelling shoes on that was. But he had one recreational habit I found most strange at the time. After trawling the press inside and out all week – he like to do nothing better on a Sunday morning than nip out for the “News of the World” and devour it in bed with a cup of coffee. The UK had so many worthy papers, with weekend supplements that could keep a homeless person insulated against the toughest winter; I found his love of the NOTW quite odd. I mean it had “Page 3 Girls” and other traditional abominations – what kind of male feminist was he?!

As I soften with age I finally get the joy of the tabloid headlines. I can shed some of that misguided seriousness and replace the frowns with a laugh. Just this morning a Daily Mail headline made my day, “Dumbledore and the bed chamber of secrets: Sir Michael Gambon's menage a trois with his wife and (much) younger lover” washed me with this wave of affectionate nostalgia and had me running to TNOW for some belated entertainment.

I am so glad to see that little piece of Britain hasn’t changed much in all this time. It’s bread and butter continues to be tales of romps or ‘three-in-a-bed”, washed down with a large helping of sport. I’d take out a heritage order to prevent the Sub Editors from getting any whiff of political correctness. What a delight to read “From Bobby to Nobby" - RANDY copper James Eardley makes an arresting sight—as he whips out his truncheon in sleazy porn films. And yes - there's a threesome in the text!

Somehow slipping between the sheets with "The Age" will never be the same again.

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5 Comments:

Blogger dysthymiac said...

Precisely.
One must be smart in order to really enjoy trash.
I must be pretty smart because I am thrilled to hear of Gambon's menage and will follow link to scuzzy Mail and devour details.
I have no idea why anybody would think Mathew McConaghy or T.Cruise were even vaguely interesting, but Gambon has sex-appeal for me.

1:33 pm  
Blogger dysthymiac said...

oh I am back from the report on Life With Gambon.
If only half of it is accurate, it is still a whopper.
Back on your Topic - when The Melbourne Truth was published, there wasn't a barrister in town who didn't devour it cover-to-cover for their clients at the front, their wives in the Social Notes, and their racehorses at the back.

1:49 pm  
Blogger Tony said...

The whole world misses the point with the the Red Tops, as the locals call them. They are the funniest papers in the world.

But it's not just the headlines. Many articles are chock full of puns, doooble entendres, outright side-splitters, and some of the picture captions are stunningly sly and brilliant.

England beaten by Sweden in soccer: Swedes 2 Turnips 0.

11:15 am  
Blogger dysthymiac said...

yep. Pixie does.
haHahaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

12:37 am  
Blogger dysthymiac said...

yep.
WhipUp, Flibberty and WishThimble all have the CosyPosy disease.
WhipUp titles it Rosy Little Things though (she may be embarrassed as Cosy is hardcore craft)

12:42 am  

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