THE gender purge continues apace. At this voracious rate it won’t be sated until the male of the species has been reduced to a gibbering husk of a zoo exhibit.
Everything that was ever deemed useful or necessary of Man will have been milked into a test-tube that the Sisterhood only reluctantly accesses when it needs to spawn.
By then, as darkness falls on civilisation as we once knew it, the Sisters will probably have made it legal to abort a male foetus in the name of preventing future sexual exploitation. Just in case, you know.
John Lasseter, who as founder of Pixar Movies has brought laughter and joy to millions of families with Toy Story, Finding Nemo and many more, is the latest to be hounded into the social wilderness.
His historical sins? Nope, he didn’t whip his todger out at staff drinkies or try to seduce a starlet on the casting couch. I doubt he even tried my fondly recalled bit of 1970s bantermime:
Man: “Have you ever had your boobs weighed, love?”
Woman: “No, why?”
Man: “Waay-haaaay” (you have to picture the male hands in cupped, weighing position).
Shocking I know. Throw me a rope and I’ll take myself down to the garage now.
But no, nothing so lascivious. John Lassetter has been summarily accused, found guilty and banished for “inappropriate hugs”.
In today’s febrile climate I’m sure it’s inappropriate of me to describe his ‘victims’ as most likely being spiteful, jealous crones, faceless and talentless nobodies seizing their chance to figuratively emasculate an authority figure. I wonder, have the lawsuits started piling in from all angles yet? I imagine so.
Meanwhile on this side of the pond the BBC Gestapo continue jackbooting their way through the ranks, dragging away any predator with a barely recognisable name who so much as told a rude joke in living memory.
Aled Jones, the “Walking Through The Air” choirboy who still manages to look like one aged 46, is the latest.
Rape, pillage or a quick feel in the canteen? Don’t be daft. He sent a woman “juvenile” messages – all of 10 years ago. Oh, and it wasn’t anything to do with broadcast work at the Beeb, apparently.
Madness, it is complete and utter madness.
My name was recently put forward for our village hall Santa. What fool in his right mind would put himself in a position of having kiddies sit on his knee, in these days of The Purge? I’ll give it a miss, thanks.
(Oops, can I say ‘miss’ in that context…?)
ON A slightly related subject, I know you lot like reading this column for its educational qualities. Hang on to your hats.
Having recently happened upon a young woman in a state of astasia, I had an episode of apodysophilia, but luckily my abulia and aprosexia meant she recovered and departed before any damage was done.
There’s a drink for anyone who can make sense of that without a dictionary!
PS: By way of explanation, I’ve found a great book for the loo, ‘1,227 Facts To Blow Your Socks Off’ by the BBC’s QI TV show team. Those nouns were all on the same page – Astasia, the inability to stand up; Apodysophilia, a feverish desire to rip one’s clothes off; Abulia, the inability to make a decision; Aprosexia, the inability to concentrate on anything.
You learn something every day! Oh and before you call the police, there was no young woman, obviously.
I’M QUITE sad that Zimbabwean tyrant Robert Mugabe has resigned, probably for a cosseted and undeserved dotage of continued wealth and privilege.
The idea of Mugabe’s reign of terror being ended by a high velocity bullet through the head – preferably which he had notice of – was guaranteed to warm my cockles on an icy winter morning. Indeed, a positive spring in the step would be induced by thinking his vile wife might be kissing him at the time. Two vultures, one stone and all that.
Still, it prompts a chuckle to picture the look on ‘young’ Grace Mugabe’s face at the realisation that her wicked plans are all in ashes. Yes dear, you really did let a slobbering, pervy 93-year-old murderer have his wicked way with you for years – for sod all. Tee hee!
It would be wonderful to think that beautiful, resource-rich nation could rise again and be the breadbasket of Africa it once was; that the removal of Mugabe could herald a new era.
But if what I saw in South Africa earlier this year is any indicator, the benighted Zimbabweans are likely to be trading in an old power-mad tyrant for a slightly younger model.
POSSIBLY the most talentless individual ever to hold a shadow cabinet post, Labour’s education spokeswoman Angela Rayner – black irony if ever there was – is celebrating becoming a grandma at 37.
Ms Rayner famously said that getting pregnant at 16 ‘saved her’, which I presume is a hint at the fun she was having down the back alleys of Stockport until unfortunately getting up the duff.
She regularly claims to suffer social media abuse over her thick Mancunian accent, which is a poor attempt to divert from her real problem. It isn’t that she sounds thick, but that the rubbish she spouts supports the idea that she actually is thick.
Suggesting that the apple never falls far from the tree, her 20-year-old son got his girlfriend (age unknown) preggers and she had the bairn on Tuesday.
It’s dangerous to assume but it doesn’t sound like the would-be Secretary of State for Education has nurtured her offspring into Oxbridge. Still, I’m sure she can help them get a council flat…
STILL with female politicians and I note the Kirklees Council cabinet is looking at introducing maternity/paternity rights for elected members.
Given that councillors are not strictly speaking employees, and how flat broke the Labour cabal keeps telling us they are, why might this be? And why now, exactly?
Surely it can’t be because fellow cabinet member Coun Erin Hill (Labour, Crosland Moor, annual allowances £13,099, portfolio allowance £12,274) is in the family way by Shahid Malik’s old bagman Dathan Tedesco?
Apart from her hand-outs, a replacement for her cabinet brief would need paying – oh, and Hill’s attendance rate was only 60 per cent the last time I looked.
It’s all just a helpful coincidence, surely...