Ban the Bombqa

I'm (re)reading The Women's Room by Marilyn French at the moment. Mira, the heroine, got married to Norm and lived the 1950's life of perfect housewife. Despite having a brilliant mind, her husband didn't want her to work but to look after him, have and then look after their two kids, and to keep the house immaculate. This she did, and cooked and entertained his friends and guess wot, he still asked her for a divorce after 15yrs or so of marriage.

He wouldn't let her drive until he really had no choice, and said that if he could lock her away and keep her all to himself he would. Basically she was a service centre, she and many women like her at that time. What's changed now? Well, now many women are still service centres but they have to go out to work too. I suspect many men secretly think like Norm.

In the Muslim world, many men think like Norm but, unlike Norm, are able to do what he couldn't - lock away and keep their wife all to themselves. If not totally literally, then semi-literally by imposing the burqa on her.

The liberation of women in the west from being nothing more than a dependent appendage to independent individual is one of the greatest achievements of the 20th century, and we should fight with every means possible ANY threat to this liberation. At the moment, in France, the UMP députés are quarrelling about whether to ban the burqa in France.

In my opinion, and from what I gather from the comments in Le Figaro's article, it's a no-brainer. It should be banned. Now. The burqa is an insult to all women and an indulgence to the most extreme of men's secret desires. No one should be locking any free person away, not in a room, not in clothes and not on a slippery slope.

If there are those who insist on imposing it, then they should go where wearing it is accepted, like the Middle East. I don't want to go to places where I'm made to dress in a certain way, and my liberty is shackled, but I wouldn't dream of going there and trying to impose my rules and my culture. Likewise, it's deeply offensive to see imprisoned women walking around here imposing on us the way they dress elsewhere.

I know that offence only works one way, and you have to be a minority for it to be considered. But let me say right here, on my blog, that I am offended by the site of women in all forms of veil. Religion is all about power and control, especially the control of women, and anyone with half a critical neuron in their brain should reject the submission of women by male control freak losers.

Have faith in a higher being, but reject religion. Religion isn't freedom, it's control and manipulation and it's worst manifestations are always conducted against women - female circumcision, the burqa, for example.

Let's hope those UMP députés listen to the voices of their citizens and ban the burqa plus the rest. Perhaps if they show enough balls it'll encourage other countries to do the same.

Cue Blond Jokes

So I'm thinking of going blond. Then I would have an excuse for being ditsy and no one would mind.

Actually I've been a sort of light auburny colour for a very long time now, and am getting bored. Summer is rather a good season for doing daft things because I can blame it on the heat getting to my head, so it's the moment to do it.

When I was six I was a lovely little blond thing with greeny blue eyes. Then my hair went mousey, I ceased to be a lovely little thing and became a revolting mess of adolescent features. Not the pubescent cuteness of many young things of today for me. I had to wait another ten years or so before I became presentable.

Mind you, I'm banking on this late-arrived presentableness hanging on into decrepitude. Many cute young things go off once they hit their mid-thirties and turn into sharp-featured old bats. Maybe if you hit surface attractiveness a bit later, you can expect more mileage out of it.

Anyway, back to being blond, I thought I might go a gentle shade of honey blond. What I won't do is go platinum. I'd look a right tart and like death only just warmed up.

French women have a funny attitude to hair colour. They often go for really outlandish shades, mostly based on a colour I call virulent aubergine. The sheer unnaturalness of this on the head of a woman of a certain age (once they hit 50 it's down the coiffeur's for a perm and a nice bit a' colour) is quite stunning. To start with, it's deeply unflattering. The colour is too intense and too dark for many skin types and just drains them of their remaining life.

Of course, you won't find this colour on women like Carla Bruni. No, it's reserved for normal women in normal towns who do things like wait outside the school gates and preserve French beans in sterilized pots. These women are dressed in saggy-kneed leggings, or cheapo jeans or some other sartorially inelegant garment. A few appear in work clothes, but none turn up in Chanel suits or YSL tailored trousers.

I've made an appointment with Boris down the road for Saturday morning. My head will be in his hands, and I'm counting on him to render me blondly superb. This might be something of a tall order however. Going blond will not suddenly make my legs grow an extra 5 inches or take 15 years off my face, but you know what they say: 'a change is as good as a rest' although I am resting quite a lot at the moment what with lounging about on sunbeds for hours on end, but it's the thought that counts...

I just hope it will not all end in tears... or go green in the pool!

Toxic Wife Detection

If there is one type of woman I utterly loathe, it's the toxic wife. She is capable of destruction on a nuclear scale within the family and deserves to be stripped of her designer everything, sent to live in a high-rise council flat in Dagenham and survive on benefits, without her children. She is as toxic to her poor offspring as she is to her husband as the only person she takes any interest in is herself.

Luckily, there are people out there who can identify the potentially toxic wife and any high-earning man who marries these days would be well-advised to check out his dearly beloved for toxic tendancies. The penality for getting it wrong is not just a messy divorce and heartache, but the loss of his hard-earned millions to a devious, soul-less female.

The Telegraph's Tara Winter Wilson is on a crusade to crush the power of the toxic wife for which she receives my full support. The parasitic blood-sucking female is an insult to womanhood and should be hounded out and shamed, not rewarded with wealth.

Here, then, from the professional, Susie Ambrose, of Seventy Thirty 'gold-digging vetting service' is what to look out for when trying to assess the toxicity of a woman:

HOW TO SPOT A TOXIC WIFE

1 Women who are secure in themselves and have a more developed emotional intelligence and personal depth do not feel the need to show off. Check whether or not she is festooned with 'designer' accessories. Listen carefully to what she says. How often does she name-drop?

2 On first acquaintance, she will want to find out if you're rich or not. If you find yourself discussing your assets within the first 10 minutes you know her agenda. She is not going to waste time on you if you don't have serious money.

3 She will flirt without first finding out if you're married or involved with someone else. She has no scruples about stealing another woman's man.

4 Even though she may have an impressive job, her main asset is sex. She will come on in a highly provocative manner, be wearing lots of make-up and revealing clothes. Potential toxic wives are extremely clever. Do not equate intelligence with emotional values and worth.

5 Often she will use the FSFM tactic (feel sorry for me). This will manifest itself on the second or third date. She wants to assess how generous you can be and will tell you how ''naïve" she is and how "misled'' by some nasty people she owes money to. As a chivalrous male, you get out your chequebook.

6 You must find out how motivated she is. Ask her what her future goals, dreams and aspirations are.

7 Toxic gold-diggers tend to target older men. And your level of physical attractiveness makes no difference. Do you genuinely wildly arouse her or is this all an act?

8 She will choose the most expensive item on the menu or the most expensive drink.

9 Men, who have been recently widowed or divorced are great prey. You are at your most vulnerable.

10 Before you marry, go on holiday together or spend at least some time co-habiting. Remember, if you make a mistake you will pay for it for the rest of your life.

Spread the word, guys. Do not be duped. Rout out the toxic woman and exit her from your life.

Cellu-lie Creams

The ResidentAdo is 16, tall, slim and pretty, and yesterday tried to buy some cellulite cream. After we had picked ourselves up off the rather grubby Carrefour floor, we told her that they don't work.
"They don't work" we said.
"This one does" said she.
"No, none do" we said.
"Yes, this one does" said she.
"It's a con, they don't work, it's the rubbing that helps" said I.
"Get your mother to buy it" said her father.
And that was that, she put it back and I suppose we'll see what she can get out of her mother.

I wondered why a young girl might think she needs to rub a bunch of dubious chemicals on her legs to get rid of imaginary cellulite. Well, we are in France, home of the gullible magic-potion/pill-for-all ills-believing woman, but really, SIXTEEN!

French women spend a fortune on these cellulite creams when a healthy diet, exercise and drinking lots of water is all you need. I remember my mother saying that when she was enduring radiotherapy, she had to drink two litres of water per day. This was a bind and the treatment was wearing, but on the bright side, she lost the cellulite on her legs.

Studies continue to show that cellulite creams don't work, but apparently women who use them are like Creationists: they don't accept the science, they want to believe the fantasy. Who wouldn't? It's boring drinking lots of water, it's tedious having to get out there and exercise, and it's often dull eating a healthy diet. They involve a potential lifestyle change from hedonistic self-indulgence to more healthily rigorous self-control. It's so much easier just to fork out 20Euros plus and enjoy the sensation of applying specialist silky creams on one's legs.

The thing is, you don't need to spend wads of cash on cellulite cream as they do no more than moisturize legs. You can get the same effect by keeping the skin exfoliated with some sort of mitt and massaging in normal moisturizer regularly. French women spend a lot of time looking after their bodies and it's probably this regular application of creams which help them keep cellulite at bay. As they get bigger, however, I think we'll be seeing more dimpled behinds on the beaches in the summer.