A woman is pregnant. And alcoholic. Every day she drinks a bottle of vodka and 8 pints of ‘strong’ beer. Or ‘normal behaviour’ as its called in Newcastle. Her child is born with brain damage due to the alcohol. Which is tragic. The woman is taken to court but they find it is not a criminal offense to be a drunk pregnant woman. Its taken to appeal where the judges uphold the original decision. They won’t criminalise excessive drinking during pregnancy. Even though 280 children a year are born with the terrible legacy of the mother’s excesses and are deprived of anything like a ‘normal life’.

But the judges are right in their decision. Tragic though the consequences are. Because if you do criminalise the pissed when pregnant, you have to firstly draw a line and then you have to enforce it. And that’s where the problem lies. Do you breathalise pregnant women routinely? Randomly? Spot checks? Are you dutybound to report a drunk pregnant woman? How do you know they’re pregnant, not just large? And what about the first 3 months when they don’t ‘show’? How do doctors know if a woman is an alcoholic? And if so would they insist on a termination? That is morally, if not legally impossible. You don’t need to ‘register’ with anyone to conceive a child. Nor do you have to report excessive drinking. So there’s no natural place for checks.

You just have to educate and hope. Yeah, good luck with that.

On an unrelated note: I’m a man. Therefore I love breasts. Its the honest version of ‘I think therefore I am’. Homo ergo amo Titi. Or something. Ask a dead Roman.

And I like breasts in virtually all situations. Walking along the beach in a bikini; in a tight sweater, an evening dress, a wet t-shirt… oh, a wet t-shirt…, in a sleazy pit in Kings Cross swirling round with tassels, or spinners or little windmills.
LOOK IN MY EYES WHEN I’M TALKING TO YOU, NOT AT MY CHEST!!!!!

The only time you can’t really appreciate breasts are when they completely covered up. Say by a baby. Then they’re no fun at all.

So I applaud Claridges, that most up-market of posh hotels, for their stance taken with a woman breast-feeding her child in the tea room the other day. And they told her off, made her ‘cover up’ by draping a tea-towel over baby-covered breast, which oddly upset the baby. Oh dear, an impasse. Crying, hungry baby vs stuffy, Victorian-valued hotel. Only one way to decide. Ask Nigel Farage. The world’s leading expert on social niceties, protocols and breast-feeding. Huh????

Farage stood by Claridges, stating that they have the right to impose rules and not upset other diners. That breastfeeding should be discreet, not ‘ostentatious’ and preferably done in a dark corner, ‘if you must’. Though he did first enquire what colour the woman was.

Whereas I feel that there is simply never a wrong time get breasts out in public. It should be encouraged. But please, don’t cover them with a baby. That moves it from the erotic, the pornographic, the smutty, to the mere ‘natural, nice and dull’.

So march to Claridges today and join the protest. A whole bunch of us feminists are heading to Mayfair to make our point. Many will be with babes, Nigel Farage will probably stay away and the values of the post-modern world will be explained to that pompous hotel. Which is why my banner states: GET YER TITS OUT!!!! in no uncertain terms.

Happy Saturday; it looks gorgeous out there but who wants to play tennis on an ice-rink?

A xxxx