Short Play: Hard Hitting Harrowing Subject matter, that is topically relevant.

I don’t usually do requests, Shedders, unless it’s to get a round in at the Goitre and Shovel, my local, but today is an exception. A sparkling moment in a sea of shitty bollocks.

“what’s the difference that’s made the difference?” you cry, as you have all been collectively trained in the manner of solution focused brief therapy popularised by Steve DeShazer and Insoo Kim berg. You clever swine!

Well, I happened upon this video ‘Rap against Rape’ that was tweeted by Saliwho.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dKMTSGgJPGA

If you’re so lazy you can’t be arsed to click on that link, PLEASE RECONSIDER. This is a video that is unparalleled, not only in its awareness raising that “rape is wrong” and that every one of all ages can be raped “even a simple child”.

Heavy Stuff. This is punctuated with some great mime by the dancers at the beginning. Miming the terror that might be on a woman’s face if she were about to be raped. Moving.

Apparently rape has been happening for ‘some time’ according to RAR, which was filmed in the early nineties, which makes it sound like it has been around since approximately 1985.

The ‘rappers’ are cunningly disguised as electricians wearing ‘dad jeans’ and moustaches meanwhile their angry sister, modelling herself on Yazz, stomps angrily in the background, occasionally shaking a fist, miming “what did I do wrong?”.

What didn’t you do wrong? That dance is just the tip of the iceberg. I remember my mate Liz doing a dance like that at the local underage disco. She didn’t get off with anyone that night.

Ah, I see! Effective.

Anyway, my pal, Sherby57, asked me if I’d write one of my famous short plays about ‘da issuez’. I’m not sure which issue he’d like me to raise awareness of, so I’ve chosen to use all of them. Possibly interchangeably. Not rape though. I think ‘Rap Against Rape’ have made the position on rape perfectly clear.

IT’S WRONG. DON’T DO IT. NOT EVEN IF IT’S A SIMPLE CHILD.

Ok here’s the short play:

______________________

person 1: Don’t do that, it’s wrong.

person 2: Is it?

Person 1: Yes. It hurts people/the environment/animals in some direct or indirect form.

Person 2: Really? I did not know that.

Person 1: Yes, it does. Can you stop it?

Person 2: Sure thing. Thank you for opening my eyes.

Person 1: You’re not even going to put up a fight?

Person 2: Your argument was very erudite and cogent, so no. And I fancy you slightly.

Person 1: Can you not put up a bit more of a struggle?

Person 2: No, sorry. I don’t like doing wrong things.

FIN.

Playboy bunnies, the Rage continues.

When he goes for a piss, he'll know just what sort of lady you are.

Hey you guys! (I’m talking like Sloth from the Goonies here, can you tell? Hmm, I’m slightly worried that this might marr the gravitas of what I have to say in this blog. On the other hand the juxtaposition of light hearted, childhood-remininscent humour may be the perfect backdrop by which to juxtapose my next piece, thereby making it seem more weighty by it’s counter-position. Yes)

You may remember my, some might say, ‘unreasonable’ bile at the playboy bunny motif. Read more about this here: https://worldofsheds.wordpress.com/2009/08/25/when-i-grow-up-i-want-to-be/

You’re probably thinking that I’m some sort of birkenstock wearing, sturdy bottomed, linen pant wearing feminist. If that turns you on, continue thinking it. I’m not one to question what you’re attracted to. Anyway, what is “attractive”? Let’s deconstruct that…let’s sit in a circle and ‘rap’ about it. Maybe some light role play questioning society’s views on what is ‘beauty’. Maybe we can spilt up some perfectly good words by putting a hyphen in them in a sexy post-modern way like ‘dis-ease’ or just put every single word in inverted commas in a sligtly questioning (some might say, ‘mocking’) way. Maybe we could use and empty chair to symbolise ‘the man’. I don’t know. I haven’t really thought about the implications of you being attracted to your ‘phantasy’ (spelt this way in the Freudian sense, Freud fans) of me. Anyway, I digress, albeit, erotically.

I suppose I am a feminist, yes.

Anyway, you might remember that what I was specifically enraged was a worrying new trend to have a playboy bunny on simply anything you could lay your square acrylic-ed nails avec ‘nail-art’ed hands on.  I jauntily hypothesised that this bunny might be the worrying aspirational icon for the next generation of women. That worth was denoted by knockers. I suppose much like the ‘porn star in training’ t-shirts that were popular in the late nineties, that being seen as a ‘porn star in training’ was a bit like saying ‘please see me as sexy and therefore more worthy of your time/affections’.  I know someone who is a careers advisor. She says that girls at school really do come and see her and say they want to be a glamour model.  It seems that women themselves are contributing to the myth that the only dimension of worth as a women is being ‘sexy’.  Sexy doesn’t cure illnesses. Unless you are Doctor Sexy.

Anyway, I’ve been patrolling the sector of this part of the country that I’m responsible for and have found some more playboy delights to entrance your eye. Ecce!

If you make your eyes go gozzy, a picture of a slag emerges.

Gasp! Just think! If you had this on your wall! What would the boys think? Oh they’d just think you were fabulous! Oh no, wait.  Just hold on. What would the boys think if your 11 year old daughter had this on her wall?  It’s 3d and everything! Amazing.

And look! Just LOOK! at the bee-yoo-t-i-ful bathroom set you can get from TK Maxx. Nothing says ‘class’ more than a playboy soap dish. Reasonably priced too.  You’ll have some spare change from a fiver to spend on a t-shirt that says ‘This bitch bites’.  Girlfriend (I’m talking like Gok Wan here) your hands might be clean, but he’ll be thinkin’ you is dirrrty.

Please, if you spot any noteworthy playboy merchandise, do let me know so I can mercilessly ridicule it.

Until we meet again, my sweet, sweet rogues.

Making a house a home

A house just sin’t a home until you’ve installed your Ken Dodd shrine in your engine room. Seriously. Some people think it’s the addition of an OWL in a BOX in the anti gravity chamber, but this is factually incorrect. Owl in box in gravity chamber=cosy, but not homely. When will you people learn?

This only strenghtens my belief than you should continue reading this blog for continued diktats about how to live your life. Right, I’m off, I need to clean the bog.

Love and light

We were made for each other

Yes, I can’t help but feeling so strongly towards you, and we’ve only just met.

I think we go so well together, like vomit and sawdust. I miss you like bog roll on the day after a heavy drinking session. I need you like immodium instants before the flight home from Turkey.  Oh, I’ve a fever for you, like consumption.

What’s brought this on? I’m watching a Romcom. You, Me and Dupree, no less, is on at the moment.

By the way, why are the heroines in Romcoms always primary school teachers?  Does that make a woman more attractive?  Like a playboy bunny emblem on a car or a tattoo of tweetie pit on a cleavage.

Yes. Yes all these things are attractive.

When I grow up I want to be…

Dear, sweet smelling shedders

Ladies, let me ask you a question (I’ll answer for you though).  What did you want to be when you were a child, or a teenager?  That might sound like a existential question, Foucault, but I’m asking about your career aspirations, your goals, your ideas…

Let me share mine, indulgently.  That’s what having a blog is all about.

I wanted to be a teacher, a policewoman or a radiographer.  Not all at once.  Taking x rays would prove difficult in in front of a classroom jam packed with offenders. Standard aspirations though, I’m guessing. I’m sure many of you had similar aspirations, be it dentist, lawyer, a champion of human rights, a scientist or an author. 

Well then, shed enthusiasts, let me update you on a worrying trend that has captured my attention.  Whilst driving to my regular polo neck wearers meeting I noticed a mini with a playboy bunny motif on the reg plate.  This is not the first time I have noticed such an abomination.  It’s becoming an all too common occurrance.

Being a deep thinker, even beyond that of the French Philosophers of the Enlightenment (this one’s for you, Descartes!) I found myself thinking about the meaning of this.  We all know that we choose motifs and emblems that in some way have a personal resonance, that speak of some value, commitment or principle that you hold dear.  Or perhaps a motif to the world about the way in which you wish to be seen. 

This stationary lends gravitas to any letter or essay.

So, what is it about playboy that young women aspire to?  What values does this reflect about things that they hold dear?  What can we assume is the personal resonance of the motif to the modern young lady, so much so that it would compel a young woman to seek out a personalised reg plate specifically with the bunny on? 

Is it being seen purely as a sex object?  Being subjugated?  Being essentially a prostitute in a leotard?  And when did it become OK for children to wear playboy watches and t-shirts? What parent in good conscience could ally buying their 10 year old daughter a playboy bed spread?  “OOh, I hope this will help them be seen as a sexual object only”.  When did the playboy bunny become something that we want to aspire to?  When did the valuing of women on their sexual subjugation become de rigeur?  Why can’t we celebrate scientists, poets, artists, lawyers, nurses rather than hookers?

If you work really hard and study for your exams, you might get to have sex with this man!  Just think!

What next can young women look to for their dreams?  Crystal Meth addicts, Smack addled street walkers, benefit cheats?  Perhaps one day you can hope to order a reg plate with crossed syringes as an emblem or the logo of the local social services. Maybe just a crude drawing of a penis. 

Until that day, I can only dream.  

 

Call Antiques Roadshow!