Love on Wheelz

This is a response to an a article in The Daily Mail by Sophie Heath. It’s not intended to be anything more than humorous. If for some reason you like pain and frustratingly bad articles, you can read it here. My comments are in bold.

Like the original Madonna and child, the young woman on the Tube has her beloved draped around her, his head nestling on her shoulder.

Look at me! I can reference classical art when making vague references to some shitty television show while simultaneously using “cool” lingo. I’m hip and cultured, yo.

As he snoozes, she texts idly with one hand, while the other absent-mindedly strokes his arm, soothingly, maternally. But this is no serene scene of mother and son — this is a couple. A couple of adults.

How dare he look for comfort from his significant other? Real men don’t fall asleep on their girlfriend’s shoulder! They snort a line off their tits and then fuck them 55 times in two hours. REAL MEN DON’T SHOW HUMANITY!

If you are forced to use public transport, you see them all the time. Soppy young blokes in skinny jeans, hair artfully arranged to mimic a guinea pig in a hurricane, being mollycoddled by a domineering, post-Spice Girls vixen who, if figures released last week are correct, also earns more than him.

Wait, a hot girl takes care of you, fucks you AND maintains you? And all you have to do is not comb your hair and wear tight jeans? Finally! TRUE EQUALITY!   *Rolls hurriedly to Hot Topic*

If he’s allowed to travel alone, he’ll be reading Harry Potter or playing with his phone, spreadeagled like a giant baby in its cot, scratching his crotch and yawning so brazenly you fear being sucked into the gaping chasm of his mouth.

Who the fuck hasn’t read Harry Potter yet? IT’S BEEN TEN YEARS, ASSHOLES!

It’s not just young bucks.

Daggum whipper snappers.

Men who would once have been called middle-aged are behaving like teenagers, faces nourished by some male consumer-targeted unction (because he’s worth it),
Exfoliating is for fags. You’re not one of those are you?

huddled over their Nintendo Wii or iPhone, desperate to ignore the spectre of maturity tapping on their shoulder.

Real men use Droids and PS3’s.

Once the hair starts to recede, the only concession is to shave it all off — leaving a greying-templed baby-man with a risibly-outsized watch on his ickle wrist, lager bottle in hand, clad in a T-shirt that declares Get Your Coat, You’ve Pulled and drop-crotch, half-mast trousers that render him incapable of doing anything but stumble about like a toddler. Be still, my beating heart.

I’ve read this paragraph three times, I’m still not sure what the fuck she’s trying to say.

You’d think fatherhood would force these baby-men to grow up sharpish, but not a bit of it.

Let me back this up with something other than anecdotal evidence… oh wait.

Those who have acquiesced to their girlfriends’ demands and suddenly find themselves pushing a buggy fractionally smaller than a bus clearly struggle with their new role.

Real men drive miatas.

Just look at the success of the U.S. television series Mad Men. Aside from the sharp scripts and the faultless production values, what made it such a phenomenon?

Hey guys, you know why Mad Men is so awesome? I mean besides having all the qualities of a good show and good marketing.  
Dare I suggest it was largely because it recalled a time when we still acknowledged a gender divide? When women were women, and men were men.

If only Peggy learned her place. WHY CAN’T YOU JUST SHUT UP AND MAKE DON A SANDWICH?

Call me old-fashioned, but can you imagine Don Draper on his daily commute, earphones plugged in, knees akimbo, playing virtual football on a Smartphone, pointedly ignoring the old lady teetering on a stick in front of him?

…yes. He’s probably drunk, though.

Would Ava Gardner have been irresistibly drawn to Frank Sinatra if she’d clocked him shuffling past in shorts and flip-flops, shouting ‘Laters!’ into his mobile?

Would Richard Burton have proved so addictive for Elizabeth Taylor if he were a simpering, feminised mess, confused about his place in the world?

Romeo and Juliet. HAHAHA WILD CARD, BITCH!

I grew up in the Seventies and Eighties, daydreaming of a future husband

Me too…

*goes on youporn, searches James Dean*

Strong, dependable, loyal — at least until another more pneumatic dame caught their eye…

Wait for it…

Ashton’s currently making headlines for allegedly cheating on his wife Demi Moore, a woman 15 years his senior. But the whole affair is being treated as if he’s a naughty schoolboy who’s disappointed his proud mum — not a man who’s betrayed his woman.

Holy contradiction, batman!

Women have a lot to thank feminist Germaine Greer’s The Female Eunuch for, but some lines have become catastrophically blurred since the Nineties rise of the Jack Daniel’s-swigging ladette.

Remember the boyband East 17?

No.

I think the rot might have set in there.

You totally want to fuck them, don’t you?

What a weird century.

The 19th century was better.

Isn’t it time to man up, boys?

Suck on my dick and gargle my balls.

How’s that for manning up?

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This entry was posted on October 7, 2011 at 12:00 pm and is filed under Uncategorized. You can subscribe via RSS 2.0 feed to this post's comments. You can comment below, or link to this permanent URL from your own site.