What work do you do, mummy?

Oh, I stand around in my underwear.

Is that ‘work’? Like being a fireman or a consultant anaesthesiologist or an aid worker in the Philippines??

Not quite like that, darling, not exactly. I earn more money than they do. Much, much more.

Oh. Can I get lots of money for standing round in my underpants too?

No my darling, that wouldn’t be appropriate.

And the objectification of women being drooled over in a state of near-total undress; that IS appropriate, is it mummy??

(precocious fucker)

So Victoria’s Secret, the upmarket lingerie and pornography store (depending on whether you’re a man or a woman), are having their annual ‘fashion show’. It will cost them $12 million. That’s a lorra knickers. Victoria’s Secret turns over billions each year in sales and so once a year they break out the ‘angels’ as their ‘models’ are called, and put on a ‘show’. The angels have to be 5 foot 10 minimum. So I could just make it. But the beard was a problem. They wanted to wax it; that’s what they do with hair at VS. And they don’t do grey hair at all. Nor cellulite, flab, spots, moles, warts, creases, wrinkles, ugly, plain, plain ugly, grotesque or constipated. Nothing even vaguely ‘real’.

I’m not here to debate the insanity of a world where lingerie models are paid as much as Wayne Rooney and they don’t even wear football boots. I’m here to complain that I don’t have a ticket for that show.

There’s no justice.

David Dimbleby, the world’s most clever, brilliant, lovely, cuddly, grand-daddy type political debate host ever, Mr Question Time, the poshest individual, all dignity and white hair and knowing smile and 75 years old, has had a tatoo. On his shoulder. Of a scorpion. A six-legged scorpion. Meaning either the tattooist couldn’t count proper or that scorpion in question stood on a land-mine before being pictured.

Either way this is the latest in a line of de-classifying the humble tattoo. It used to be the exclusive domain of the working classes, particularly scummy ones, and even more particularly, drunk scummy ones. Then up-market people started getting them and now a Dimbleby. Fucking aristocracy.

If I was any self-respecting builder or gangster, I’d be knocking on the door at the hospital to have all my ‘ink’ removed. My statement been hi-jacked by the posh.

Though why this ‘posh’ one did it so glaringly publicly remains a mystery.

 

Happy wednesday

 

A xxxx