It goes without sayin' that you have to admire the determination of Ms. Pankhurst's crew when it came to letting themselves be heard and bringing the much needed attention to the plight of women's rights in the days when Charlie Chaplin was actually liked by J. Edgar Hoover. By the 1960s we had Germain Greer having lengthy conversations, (as well as lengthy fanny hair,) with the food in her fridge and relentlessly campaigning for middle class women to get those boardroom jobs that middle class men were usually boxed off with. As we enter a brave new millenium you would be forgiven for thinking that womankind had reached the pinnacle of existence, hmmmm,,,
That is until you wander in to any bar in Newcastle, or in fact, in any city, on any night over the 4 day weekend. You can't move for women, who have taken up the mantle of independence and confidence,,,, lying on their back or puking in a pissy corner. Yep, it would seem that the hard efforts of the many women who came before them fall somewhat silent on the bulk of the female population of today. Sadly, the theme music from the Charlies Angels film doesnt go down too well whilst being played in a club with most of the independent women staggering around the gaff with their snide Prada strides hanging off, or crawling across the damp carpet to the bogs.
WOMEN, nowadays, are just as handy as fellas for road rage or keeping the local courtroom economy in tip top shape. We even got female England hooligans now, wanting to stick it to Johnny Foreigner as a preference to their previous-tedious lifestyle, such as watching Corrie or Eastenders or spending all day and night on fucking MSN Messenger.
Times seem to now have changed since the 1960s and now most middle class women want to be presenting the Footy, as opposed to being a bank manager or controller of the BBC. THOUGH many may think this determination is a modern development, I have to add that, back in the early 1980s the Suffragettes of The Toon were sporting cagoules, Gang Of Four T-Shirts, Trimm Trabs and drainpipes.
This sent a bit of an ambiguous message and confused girls this side of the Tyne. Was it a fashion statement? A Sexual Revolution? Had the fighting spirit of Germaine Greer reached the shores of Newcastle? Sadly not, it was just the early wardrobe of the female smack head.
Not always renowned for their sartorial efforts, this particular look spread to many field, near and far! I recently read an old article on the net from the music press, dated way back in the mid 1980s, a sensationalized piece that was based around an A.C.R. gig down in London.
Rather than the journalist's version of events, which opened with reference to a chap arguing with his girl outside the venue, it has since been disclosed that what had actually happened was that the journalist responsible for the article actually caught the end of an argument which had resulted in a yarkin upper-cut on the lad by his missus in a row over who was wearing the best Trainers? Him or her? Apparently it was her, as she was sporting Adidas SL's whilst he was still in a pair of Hi-Tech, ouuuch! OFTEN the vanguard of the women's rights movement is the eternal hater of men.
Now, some men deserve to be called fit to burn when it comes to how they view or treat women. This isn't the case of all men, though this does not deter the hater of men and that legendary line is never far away: 'A woman does not need a man to get pregnant, a turkey baster will do! AHAHHAHAAAA' Thing is, turkey basters are poor conversationalists, look ridiculous in a sun hat and string vest on holiday,,, AND CANT CHANGE A FUCKING PLUG FOR YOUR NEW CERAMIC BASTARD HAIR STRAIGTENERS FOR YOU YOU FAT, STINKING, BARREN, MAN-HATING BULL-DYKE FUCK!!
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