The Break Up About Makeup

So I don’t often read The Mirror, it’s too closely related to The Sun and it’s mostly just scary fear-mongering bullshit you could pick apart for hate speech¬†as easily as one could pick apart flaky pastry but I saw an article about a school in Manchester that are getting tougher on their makeup ban by having teachers come prepared with wet wipes to rub the makeup right off the faces of their students. Now, as British people, we like to fall into two polarised camps about the most inane shit (A 5p plastic bag charge is reasonable and environmentally conscious/ TAKE THAT SMUG CASHIER OUTSIDE AND KICK HIS TEETH IN FOR CHARGING ME FIVE PENCE) so obviously, this has the same level of division – some say it’s entirely understandable and students shouldn’t wear makeup of any sort and some say it’s unfair to enforce a series of rules designed only to affect female students that discriminates against them on an appearance basis. Where do I fall? Guess.

Now, I’m going to regale you with some more personal experience stories, because that is clearly very interesting. In my school days, I was not a feminist, I believed a woman had all the same rights as a man so by that definition I was but I could be prone to some deep-rooted casual sexism that a young man picks up in a male-dominated culture. One such sexist belief reflected itself when our school tightened the rules on makeup to include absolutely no foundation or mascara of any sort, plain face, aside from brushed hair and clean teeth, that’s your face done. The female body of students, or at least a good chunk of them, organised a sit-in protest on the playground and my initial reaction, at that time, was to laugh thinking “How pathetic, they’re really going to waste everyone’s time just so they can keep their precious face paint? Morons”. I thought it insignificant, not worth debate and when the protest fall apart after one particularly strong-worded ultimatum from a teacher, I laughed my teenage ass off. This big protest, I thought, fell flat at the first hurdle, well that says something for the people stupid enough to get involved in it that they wouldn’t defend it more stubbornly, seems even they know they’re time-wasters. Looking back on that, that’s not fair of me to say that about them and though the protest ultimately didn’t even last a day, the cause was valid, they were students not wanting to get into trouble at school is all. Well, allow me now to make amends.

Now, it may come as a surprise to some of you but when a woman wears make up or revealing attire, it isn’t always for the attention of others, especially when she is young. As a teenage girl hitting the ever so lovely stage of puberty, that girl’s face and body undergo a lot of changes, some that will empower her and some that will make her feel awful. Oh hey, that goofy roundish chubby child face has slimmed out? I look good… except it is covered in enough spots to look like a dot-to-dot of the Mona Lisa. Good thing I have this AMAZING PRODUCT THAT SUBTLY HIDES ALL OF THOSE IMPERFECTIONS… only that’s not allowed. You might say well hey, boys don’t get concealer, they have to endure a puberty of strained voices and greasy faces, why shouldn’t girls? Well, there’s not as much pressure on boys for their appearance as there is for girls, teenage boys aren’t supposed to be hot yet by societal standards, we accept that there are cute boys and hunky men but teenage boys are hideous and everyone is cool with that, aside from the odd joke. Teenage girls? Well that’s when a girl stops being a girl to society and becomes sexualised, it’s when people start mentally undressing her and wondering what kind of woman she’ll be. With men, it is not as obvious at what stage they are in their development, we don’t exactly all stand around like “Jim’s grown a few inches down there… he’s looking good” but we do notice that suddenly Ginger Katie got boobs and now everyone’s trying to convince her they never once called her Ginger Minge. The pressure mounts and with puberty varying from person to person, women can much more readily be left feeling weird and excluded than teen boys. All teen boys, bar the exceptionally lucky and unlucky, are spotty-faced sweat machines with weird voices but teen girls? Casey got hot, Sophie got super spotty, Tara currently has the biggest bust in all Year Ten, they are compared and criticised by their peers and, in a way, by their teachers. No, I don’t mean in a pervy way, let me clarify.

A female student who wears make-up is seen as masking something, as beguiling people with regards to her looks and depending on the varying degrees, some assume she is either just wearing a little to look good or a lot because she’s a full-on sexual deviant. The same is true of girls who wear short skirts at school, is she just a girl in a skirt or is she trying to catch the eyes of the boys? The students ponder this but so do teachers, who will then criticise overly… glamourous(?) students for “distracting the students”. This, this I hate, and no not because I enjoy oggling teenagers, don’t be so crude. If you send a female student away from a lesson to rub makeup off and wash her face, you send her out of class for ten minutes and that’s ten minutes of lesson time she’s missed and a lesson learnt in that your self-confidence in your appearance is less important than this class. I do so hate the school system for breaking down individuality into “Learn subject material and learn to regurgitate it on cue, the more you can memorise, the more you’re worth” and I understand arguments in defense of uniform appearance but this gets worse. The makeup, bad but worse than this, the classic “Go home and change, you are distracting the boys”

What?

1. I would rather discriminate against one girl than try to teach the future generation of men that they should not stare up skirts

2. Rather than punish the boys for perving on their fellow student and allowing themselves to be distracted from their education, it makes more sense to take you out of school for an hour because your education means less to me than theirs

3. I am telling you to change your appearance FOR THEIR SAKE. I am teaching you that your body is not your own, it is subject to the thoughts and perversions of men. If your appearance distracts a man, you are at fault.

With the pressure on girls to look good, they try just that, be it to feel good or to fit in, but we pin blame on them for trying too hard or not trying enough. Concealer and foundation, which do not distract a man, are not attempts to be fashionable but to cover over spots and flaws they know they will be bullied for having. I was a lucky youth, I wasn’t particularly spotty and where I was spotty, fell under my fringe so no fucker could tell most of the time, but if I had a face covered in enough spots to make a dalmation vomit, I’d want something to remedy the solution too. Don’t tell me Clearasil and Oxy and whatever are the answer, you try that shit, it takes six weeks to kick in and all it does is make the bastards a shade less red. Awesome, guess I’ll invest in a good paper bag. Women are forced into a lifelong beauty pageant, whilst school for boys is a battleground, school for girls is a Miss Universe contest so no shit they want to cover up that zit that looks like it needs its own postcode. Boys, we just comb our hair, wash our junk and spray deodorant, that is it, that is as hot as we can hope for but nobody gives a shit. Girls, unless teen you look like how films portray teen girls (As basically “You’ll hope I’m 18 or you’ll feel so weird watching me strut around in shorts”), you can bet cruelty will circle around you.

Oh, and one more thing, can we talk about how female teachers, in makeup, say makeup is unacceptable in a school? Teachers have their own dress code sure, but if we’re saying that makeup is a distraction, why is it only a distraction on teen girls? Doesn’t distract boys when teachers wear it, ever thought maybe teen boys don’t care? If they do, why are teen boys never challenged? This is my biggest thing, why was I never challenged? I recall one incident in which a student at my school, whom was quite attractive, had water spilt down her shirt and it revealed the bra she had on underneath. The teacher ushered her out and told her to go get a clean shirt and stop causing a scene and that she shouldn’t be wearing a bra that’d show so clearly under a white shirt. Yeah, her UNDERWEAR was not in line with school code, for being a bold colour that’d show up should she spill water down herself. She left, teacher looks to the lads who are of course discussing her bra and I happened to be sat near this group. Do we get told off or told to grow up? Nope, just “Alright class, settle down, let’s continue…”. WHAT? I didn’t care then but I care now, why aren’t they being called out on sexualising a fellow student and discussing her in an inappropriate manner but she’s a trouble-maker for wearing underwear? She didn’t start a wet t-shirt contest, she didn’t plan to perform a burlesque routine, she just happened to go “I’ll wear the black bra today”, that was that. She wasn’t distracting the boys, the boys distracted themselves with a lengthy discourse about tits, challenge THAT behaviour.

In summary, I don’t see makeup and short skirts as being a huge distraction, if anything making them banned in schools makes them a distraction when someone doesn’t adhere to that rule, as all rule-breaking behaviours are. Boys are not animals, if they care about their education they will not let blue eye shadow detract from that and if they don’t care well then hey, you are either a teacher/parent, make them care. If boys are so easily distracted by a short skirt, rein them in, don’t teach them that women are to blame for their minds straying, teach them how to focus, teach them that they’re going to encounter makeup and short skirts and attractive women for the rest of their lives, they can’t let themselves be distracted by it and they can’t think it acceptable to stare at their peers like they’re rotisserie chickens. Let teenage girls be teenage girls, let them build confidence in their appearance and in turn, let teenage boys know the difference between right and wrong.

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Phone Zombies

No big political issue to throw at you tonight reader, nor is this a funny film review or commentary on the gaming industry from my disgruntled inner nerd. Let’s take this back to where this blog began really, so so long ago where I was just pointing at some random aspect of modern culture and going “You know what? That’s fucking irritating”. Today’s topic then is the curse of the phone addict/junkie/zombie and my response to this apparent plague is not what you’d expect but to put it in brief – there’s no such thing as phone zombies, you might have a few individuals glued to their screen just because but for most of us, we have perfectly valid reasons to stick to our cells and mobiles, whichever term you prefer.

You’ve probably seen pictures circling around on the internet, usually in your Facebook news feed of these zombified masses surgically attached to a smart phone, groaning for likes and trudging around like the undead. You’ll hear statements like “Kids these days” or “Look at what our generation has become”, all these sad statements that read like written shakes of the head, as if your mother and your inner guilt got together for lunch to write something for you to read. At first, you might react in the expected sense, feeling bad, feeling like you should ‘look up’ as one video put it, get over social media and not be one of these grotesque creatures but here’s the thing, it’s a load of bullshit. I mean, don’t get me started on the hypocrisy of using social media as a platform to berate social media and modern technology, what a stupid thing to do. The whole ‘smartphones equals dumb people’ thing is lazy, untrue and just self-congratulatory intellectual smugness from people who developed life skills before the internet became so accessible, some self-satisfied way of peering down people’s noses and then expecting shares and likes for this wise insight into the modern world? Get over yourself. I’m all for intellectual smugness and celebrating one’s own knowledge, I do it myself, but doing it in the sense of this elitism is just rude and only exposes you as a total arse. I much prefer the path of making a reference only a choice few will get, you exclude some so you feel like you know something particular but you don’t slap anyone in the face as being less worthwhile than you, it just means you exist in different realms of interest. You just know whoever made these pictures and spread them around thinks they’re so damn sage and clever, pointing and sneering at those of us committed to our technology but when you then upload it to the internet as self-promotion, you’re basically jerking yourself off on a stage and calling the audience a bunch of wankers.

Dialling back the rage, I’m going to say I’m pretty attached to my technology, my phone and laptop in particular. If I go out, my phone comes too, even if only briefly. I wouldn’t say I’m glued to it, I just keep it handy in all situations and never go too far from it if I can help it. Whilst out, I’d check it about once an hour unless I receive a call or text or alarm of some sort, generally if I’m out of the house then I’m doing something important or social and so I don’t have time for sitting and texting. Now why do I keep it handy, you ask? Well:

  1. Job applications – Made several, still waiting on feedback/interview invitations.
  2. Emergencies – What if I have an accident and need help? What if someone else needs help?
  3. Friends – Sometimes, I get messaged out of the blue or I’ll be passing somewhere I know people in the area and I can quickly ask those nearby if they’re free to grab coffee or whatever.
  4. Easily reached – I can tell people when and where to expect me whilst I’m out. If I’m going to be late, people will know.
  5. Anxiety – This might sound stupid but I can panic without my phone because of reasons 1 to 4, what if I miss one of those important calls or texts that tells me I got a job or a friend of mine has just been kicked out by their partner and needs someone right now? I find those things almost always happen when I’m not immediately available, missed two phone interviews whilst on the can!!

And that’s not even considering the fact phones have changed so much since I was a kid. I could understand worrying when a teen wouldn’t give up their Nokia, it was an easy way to blow through money on essentially talking to people you lived a few streets away from and otherwise playing Snake whilst you awaited their response but now? Long distance relationships, phones that can access the internet to let you read the news, check out new music videos, catch up on missed matches, meet potential romantic partners – the world is in the palm of our hand these days, can you not comprehend how amazing that is? What used to be a computer, a watch, a calendar, a landline and a newspaper all now fits into a device the same size as a library card! I remember making an old man steam with frustration as he told me off for staring into my lap at some goddamn screen and I looked up to tell him
“Actually, I was trying to understand this Syrian crisis thing, I write about current news. What are your views on the subject?”
I was not bothered for the rest of my bus journey. I’ve caught wrong trains and gotten myself stuck in tight spots, panicking and reaching out only to receive those reassuring words of an old friend that I’d be alright, I’d find my way home if I calmed down and if I got that lost, they’d drive out and find me. Without a phone, damn, I’d have been stuck out in the wrong end of England for a while just running around screaming in panic. Oh, and when you get an unexpected text from someone, you know that means you crossed their mind, they cared about you and wanted to show it, that is so goddamn satisfying and nice. Nothing makes my day like someone just sending a text like that, something small and sweet.

We are attached to our phones because they are extensions of ourselves, we want them to match our style, we load them with apps we would use, they are full of photos we took and numbers we want to call. The smartphone is a portal to saying hello to people you can’t just greet at their address, to learning new things and hearing great jokes or amazing songs, people who criticise these things as making us idiots just don’t know the potential of such technology. If your kid is a ‘phone zombie’, ever considered why? You’re probably cursing the fact they’re glued to social media right? Calm down, we all are these days and even so, it helps them stay in touch, it’s not like teenagers have an abundance of money to go for coffee every time they feel like chatting. Don’t smugly look down on them, certainly not if you’re making that “Oh what is the world coming to?” speech from your Facebook profile, because my generation and the generations thereafter just happened to be young enough to embrace the technological revolution and run with it, you’re nothing better for clipping people’s wings because you can’t fly.

Passionate Contempt

First things first, not to let fame go to my head but I was recognised on the street today as Old Man Wolfe, or rather:
“Hey, isn’t that Old Man Wolfe?”
“Who?”
“You know, that wanker who writes about feminism and shit”
Genuine dialogue there ladies and gentlemen, I am a wanker that writes about feminism and shit. I’m a little hurt, feminism and shit? I write about feminism and David Cameron, Sonic the Hedgehog, Russell Brand… ok yeah, feminism and shit making more sense now… That aside, in sticking with my pages of wank upon this blog of shit, I’ve got more for you, a requested article even (not commissioned, I’m not THAT popular, just a “Hey can you do one about…?”). So, I won’t deny my fans, what few I have, here comes the famed Wolfe wanker to deliver his opinions on the subject of being passionate about our interests, whether or not that makes us ‘hipsters’ and why we feel the way we do about such matters.

At this point, the word ‘irony’ crops up nine times out of ten, more particularly in how it is misused and abused by the population, excusing their behaviour as acts of irony, completely missing the point of the word, we get it. Truth is, on that front, you either know better or you don’t, no amount of intellectual snobbery will fix the internet – people will keep doing dumb shit and call it ironic, we all know what the word means as it is defined in the dictionary, it’s a losing battle to try and fight when you come across some idiot being ‘ironic’ when they’re actually just being stupid or ignorant. I’m actually here about the other abuse of irony, claiming to love something perceived as tacky or awful out of ironic pleasure and how that branches off from a culture of disenfranchisement and distinguishing “I love He-Man because it is so bad it’s good” and “I love this obscure franchise because I genuinely love it, not because I’m trying to set a trend or be outside the box”

See, you use the word ‘hipster’ here and you think of two different types – the one with a profound love for the unpopular and unheard of, seen as a pretentious dickwad looking for new ways to buck the trend, and the one who is also seen as a dick because they hold everything in contempt, calling everything they see commercial crap or unoriginal or not as good as this or that or the other. A weird culture indeed, where does it come from? Well, it’s a flaw of my generation, the media plays us as generally disinterested layabouts – we aren’t the stoic heroes of yesteryear, we missed the hippie revolution and we’re weirded out by what comes after us as being the sort of cack we bought into as kids but now that we’re “grown up”, we’re not supposed to like any more. Growing up, it’s easy to be disinterested in the world around you, you’re full of angst and bitterness and raging hormones but once you hit your twenties, nostalgia kicks in, you pine for a more innocent time and suddenly all that plastic crap becomes wondrous through rose-tinted shades. Think Thundercats, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, iCarly, hardly works of fine art but I bet one of them or something like them has a place in your heart for all its flaws. A generation raised on the devil-may-care too cool to give a damn mindset forked into two very different paths – passionate about discovery and passionate about not being passionate.

The latter culture, passionate about a lack of passion, breeds a psyche of “Effort is uncool, enthusiasm is stupid”, bred in the hearts of the grunge music of our cooler older siblings when we were young and a life revolving around hardening one’s shell, especially in the form of typical masculinity. After all, imagine being a fifteen year old and telling our friends at rugby practice that you’re thinking of having a That’s So Raven marathon and then imagine the state of your testicles later, considerably more swollen and sore one should imagine. A harsh disconnect with the world, born of a survival instinct and then later transformed into some warped sense of intellectual superiority or being too ‘cool’ for bursts of excitement, led to this grumpier sort of person of my generation, myself included to some extent. To this day, I rarely get excited, for me that “get hard or die” psyche was intensified by being the eldest in my family, the supposed smartest in my classes and the social outcast in a school full of violent thugs, I couldn’t afford tears or anything that could be exploited, occasions when word let slip I had feelings for someone in my class, myself and the person I cared for were bullied and heckled to no end, it turned me into a vengeful stone cold walking behemoth of irritability, something I’m still receiving counselling for to this day.

You should also consider we were born into a world that raced through technological advancements and yet dwindled in opportunities, the internet didn’t show us the world was better, it showed us the world was better than us, at that point it became why bother? Helicopter parenting only really got called out as a bad thing within the last twenty years, too late for someone like me who has already been moulded by such, it led to this generation of hearts encased in stone because it seems easier that way – never try so never fail, never care so never grieve. As more and more franchises get rebooted, retooled or live to the point of stagnation and lack of originality, perhaps for some it is easier to say sod it to having favourites and holding all things in equal contempt, only holding a soft spot for things that cannot be revamped or remade. Oasis, Nirvana, Arctic Monkeys, music and emotion that cannot be portrayed by anyone else, bands that won’t “sell out” or catch on with their shitty little brothers and sisters, relics of the time when stuff was ‘cool’

The other more optimistic road journeyed down was that of discovery, of branching out, taking passions and interests from youth and watering the seeds of joy into full grown forests. You start at Pokemon, you go onto Cardcaptors, you find Naruto and then so on and so on until you go so far through the looking glass, the Cheshire Cat puts his paws up like “Hell naw man, that’s some weird shit”. Such individuals were persecuted as nerds but responded to the bullying of their youth by just enduring it, not so much becoming as hard as a mountain but bowing like grass in the wind – a mountain doesn’t move in a storm but then grass doesn’t move much either, the land beneath it gets torn up but grass isn’t so much destroyed as strewn about. Of course, this passion for discovery led to creativity, to ‘nerdiness’, to an internet culture of memes and fan-fiction where people could unashamedly share their fantasies of making out with Sasuke Uchiha whilst exchanging information and recommendations, giving each other maps for the weird roads they had walked down. Chances are if you’re thinking of someone this reminds you of, they may well have a tumblr, not just a tumblr, I mean like one of THOSE tumblrs. Superwholock and so on. Personally, whilst sometimes cringing because of my underlying cool-guy bravado pressured upon me, such people can be held in admiration, they werent’ scared to be in love and let it grow, they became much more creative and inventive and broadened their palette, not bad considering they mostly started in the same place – commercial cartoon slop pushing toys down their throats.

Here’s where we go full circle then, back to the point of irony, a word that became a safe way of saying “I don’t want to admit I enjoy this inherently terrible thing”. Genuine ironic pleasure, liking something you know you rationally think is atrocious, is a good thing, it allows one to communicate with their true self, asking themselves why they might enjoy something so bad. I’ll put myself on the line here, my ‘guilty pleasure’ is Sabrina the Teenage Witch. Yes, a show meant for teen girls when I was only old enough to be interested in Digimon and Scooby-Doo but I watched it anyway, I loved it, mainly for Salem. On reflection as an adult, I found I probably liked it because I saw myself in the characters; Sabrina, the super-talented youth who must try to fit in even though she’s clearly leagues ahead, very true of my young self; Salem, the mind of a tiger-like man in a pussycat body who finds comfort in food, very true of my adult self; Aunt Zelda, the voice of reason and seen as boring or callous but in fact really enjoys intellectual stimulation and worthy peers, very true of myself as a rule through life. I acknowledge the shoe is bad, it’s a campy comedy for hormonal schoolgirls, the romance is strained, the plots are inane nonsense, the Salem puppet looks like a mitten with a face and Harvey’s actor is a generic “cool boy I want to like me” template, as is his character. Knowing that though, I still watch it with a smile, if only to hear Salem wail (Seriously, every episode, at least once, Salem will either burst into tears or shout “NOOOOOOOOOOO!”)

Guilty pleasures and ironic enjoyment are the way of the passionate about a lack of passion expressing themselves without breaking down and admitting to themselves they actually care, in this way, perhaps it is a really damaging thing to deal with, it’s essentially self-hatred. Guilty pleasure shouldn’t be a thing, if you aren’t hurting anyone at least. We let this festering feeling of apathy overwhelm us all as teenagers, we wanted to fit in and be cool and denied ourselves what we cared about, or at least some of us did. With that in mind, it’s easy to see why we hold such contempt for someone who declares love for something obscure and unheard of, we envy them for being so unafraid to have fun that they dedicated themselves to finding new ways to do it. Fun isn’t for us, fun is for kids, except it shouldn’t be, it should be for everyone.

To conclude then, enjoy what you honestly find yourself enjoying, embrace it without fear and when someone comes up to you and says they actually prefer some weird TV show or band from some place you’ve never heard of written by people with names you can’t pronounce, don’t hold it against them, try shit out. If it’s not for you, it’s not for you but do so honestly and with an open mind, don’t deny it because it’s weird or tacky or obscure, deny it on its own merits and your personal tastes. Guilty pleasures are a thing of the past, passion is back in fashion and you don’t have to hate yourself if you sincerely like watching My Parents Are Aliens.

Made A Pig’s Ear Of It

So of all the things you’d hear about David Cameron, necrophilic bestiality is probably in the same category of unbelievable as him being a secret pornstar or the world’s greatest Pokemon trainer. If you’re somehow unaware, say you live in the US or you don’t follow the news, the British Prime Minister David Cameron allegedly put his penis in the mouth of a dead pig in his uni days as an initiation ritual for a boys club, the idea being it’s one of those gross trials of masculinity like drinking a toilet water cocktail or lighting your ass hair on fire. Vulgar images aside, this odd detail of Cameron’s past has had him become a laughing stock more than he already was and the Prime Minister staunchly denies the allegations, claiming them to be some sort of mud-slinging attack on his reputation or a wild fib by some birk from his past trying to get attention. A prime story like this, I couldn’t resist the opportunity to weigh in on the matter so let’s begin shall we?

Firstly, I’m not sure what to believe, this does sound like a stupid ritual you would have to endure to join the club of the douchebag elite and maybe a young David Cameron was that wild and reckless, after all he is the same man who lit money on fire to taunt the poor as a student (Bullingdon Club activity, you have to offer a homeless person ¬£50 and then set the money on fire whilst they watch) but then David Cameron has the face of a man so boring, drying paint and growing grass are petitioning for the new expression of disinterest be “I’d rather go for a pint with David Cameron”. A life in politics might have just chipped away all the joy and laughter in our PM’s soul, though I can imagine him and George Osborne laughing it up as they read people’s desperate pleas for their benefits. Denying it as a hoax is perhaps a bad move, David can’t let himself be the subject of a joke, he couldn’t whip up some pork puns and admit we all did stupid shit when we were young, instead he wants to be the perfect paragon of behaviour and deny his past until he is blue in the face. I’m inclined to believe it, though I do struggle to, mostly because it doesn’t sound like something you’d just conjure up to spite him, if you’re going to lie you’d make it a lie you could believe that perhaps Cameron attended “Keep Britain White” rallies or something, not that he’d face-fuck a barnyard animal for a lark.

So why would a club do this to their members you might think? University fraternities are depraved but surely not this bad right? Why couldn’t they just superglue their pubes to his face or paint his cock blue? Well, chances are this is a bizarre cross between male bonding and shared shame, the idea being they get people to do these things to have dirt on them in the future. Those claims of photographic evidence? Chances are the photos might well exist and may only surface on public media if Cameron crosses the wrong guy, they probably wanted to have something shameful to blackmail him with and perhaps in turn those who have this squeeze on him, have respective binds laid upon them. For all we know, it could just be this stalemate, with everyone having the power in one incriminating photograph to trip up their peer if they vote the wrong way or support the wrong cause. David Cameron has made waves in his own party in the past, we like to make him out as Satan incarnate but gay marriage became legal in this country whilst he was at the helm, I can imagine some of his old friends only ever referred to the LGBT community as ‘screaming benders’ back in the day, maybe someone holds a grudge. Of course, I could be reading too much into it and maybe it just is some pillock from Oxford trying to get the nation to believe some cock and bull story about his ol’ chum Davey Boy.

Jeremy Corbyn must be kicking himself though hey? Morally above personal smear campaigns and then this gem lands in his lap? Tell you what, if it had been revealed Corbyn was a man with a taste for pork in that sense, The Sun would print so many articles on it you’d see nothing but disturbed looking pigs on every cover page. David Cameron won’t feel a serious blow from this, it’ll be a joke that grows stale and he’ll pay off his friends in high places to make this go away but when Corbyn was taken out of context, the newspapers leapt on the idea that Jeremy might have a thing for Bin Laden. That said, whilst Cameron was taunting the poor and abusing animals with his ding-a-ling, Corbyn was publicly protesting against Apartheid, let that make you think. I have to commend the Labour Leader though, a target of smear campaigns, he makes the promise he’ll never make it personal with his opponents, it’s all about the people for him. I’d say I’d do the same but if I found out my nemesis was the fool of the day for allegations he porked a pig, I’d struggle not to make some wisecracks about it.

I’m disappointed in Cameron though, I expected him to try and dismiss this but really? You could have made yourself seem much more likeable by raising your hands up, admitting to it even if it was not true and saying we all do daft shit when we’re young, it’d have been a chance to get the public to see you as more than a walking mass of misery in a suit. Denying this only means if it is confirmed later, you’ve proven yourself an idiot and a liar, which we all already think but you needn’t give us evidence to back it up. If it is all a hoax, fair enough, though if I was being smeared by people making up that I stupid ballsy stunts, I’d embrace it, at least they aren’t claiming you’re a pedophile or the leader of a slave ring, what’s wrong with this harmless joke? Or is someone close to you a pig and you’re afraid of offending them? Is it Ian Duncan Smith? Is he a pig? He always did look a bit… And he’s greedy… GASP!

Anyway, laugh it up whilst it’s funny I guess, someone will save David’s bacon before long

BOOM CHEAP SHOT!