It’s so easy to turn a blind eye to bullying. The Christian world ignores the terrible persecution of fellow Christians, Yazidis and Copts in the Middle East. Countries under sharia whip or stone women for wearing their burkas too tight, because, as it is said, a tight burka equals loose morals. And that’s just the tip of the Isis-berg. I hardly dare mention Little Big Man Putin who controls Europe’s gas supplies and may possibly poison people with polonium.
DJ and author Paul Gambaccini’s flat was raided at 4.30am, courtesy of Operation Yewtree, his computers and diaries confiscated, and his life put on painful hold for a year, on the testimony of two men he had never met.
The so-called victim remained anonymous but Gambaccini’s name was leaked to the press. Throughout his ordeal the Labour party, for whom he had laboured for decades, Amnesty International, and Stonewall (which he had helped found) shunned him. No charge was ever brought.
But perhaps on some level we like to be bullied. We buy the magazines. We allow ourselves to be ticked off by Gwyneth Paltrow for all those years we didn’t know our vaginas needed steam-pressing — and there was me thinking it was meant to have a permanent crease. Paparazzi still chase post-partum celebrities to capture a tiny pinch of cellulite, and while we theoretically laud Nigella, Cheryl Tweedy-Cole-Fernandez-Versini remains our slender pinup.
And as the first all-women’s political party is established, the phenomenal sales of Fifty Shades Of Grey suggest that a large proportion of have-it-all women really want to be dominated by men who tie them up in dungeons and spank them. Apparently, calculated submissiveness will lure these men into marriage. They also want them to stack the dishwasher, bake ciabattas and arrange the playdates, so hey, no pressure. Men are confused, women conflicted. It seems much easier these days to be gay than heterosexual.
Even in The Archers, sociological soap guide to our times, the ruthless Rob Titchener is steadily reducing his new wife, Helen Archer, to a whimpering apologist. The poor actor Tim Watson, a very nice, friendly guy, is receiving sacks of hate mail as every listener in the land screams “Helen! Kick him a) in the balls and b) out of your house!” at their DABs. But the simple, scripted farming folk of Ambridge are too busy upgrading milking techniques to notice the malevolent misogynist in their midst.
To my reckoning one of the best movies of the year is Room, a harrowing account of a mother and son held captive for seven years by an abusive maniac. Watch it with your knees in your eyes. The back-stabbing backstage world of Bolshoi Babylon comes a close second — a riveting documentary in which ballet itself emerges as the bully. It can’t be coincidence that three other superb screen offerings, The Revenant, The Big Short and Spotlight, are about bullying and abusive behaviour in the Wild West, the banks, and the Catholic Church.
Meanwhile, Mark Clark, of the Tory party’s “Road Trip 2015”, has disappeared from sight and sound since his alleged tyrannising was exposed. Good riddance — except that the celebrated “dossier” of his offences, allegedly sent to Grant Shapps and Baroness Warsi (whose accusatory letter to the Guardian broke the story) has still never been produced. Nevertheless, unproven allegations brought down Shapps and they’re still baying for the blood of Lord Feldman. Harasser of the week? J’accuse.
DJ and author Paul Gambaccini’s flat was raided at 4.30am, courtesy of Operation Yewtree, his computers and diaries confiscated, and his life put on painful hold for a year, on the testimony of two men he had never met.
The so-called victim remained anonymous but Gambaccini’s name was leaked to the press. Throughout his ordeal the Labour party, for whom he had laboured for decades, Amnesty International, and Stonewall (which he had helped found) shunned him. No charge was ever brought.
But perhaps on some level we like to be bullied. We buy the magazines. We allow ourselves to be ticked off by Gwyneth Paltrow for all those years we didn’t know our vaginas needed steam-pressing — and there was me thinking it was meant to have a permanent crease. Paparazzi still chase post-partum celebrities to capture a tiny pinch of cellulite, and while we theoretically laud Nigella, Cheryl Tweedy-Cole-Fernandez-Versini remains our slender pinup.
And as the first all-women’s political party is established, the phenomenal sales of Fifty Shades Of Grey suggest that a large proportion of have-it-all women really want to be dominated by men who tie them up in dungeons and spank them. Apparently, calculated submissiveness will lure these men into marriage. They also want them to stack the dishwasher, bake ciabattas and arrange the playdates, so hey, no pressure. Men are confused, women conflicted. It seems much easier these days to be gay than heterosexual.
Even in The Archers, sociological soap guide to our times, the ruthless Rob Titchener is steadily reducing his new wife, Helen Archer, to a whimpering apologist. The poor actor Tim Watson, a very nice, friendly guy, is receiving sacks of hate mail as every listener in the land screams “Helen! Kick him a) in the balls and b) out of your house!” at their DABs. But the simple, scripted farming folk of Ambridge are too busy upgrading milking techniques to notice the malevolent misogynist in their midst.
To my reckoning one of the best movies of the year is Room, a harrowing account of a mother and son held captive for seven years by an abusive maniac. Watch it with your knees in your eyes. The back-stabbing backstage world of Bolshoi Babylon comes a close second — a riveting documentary in which ballet itself emerges as the bully. It can’t be coincidence that three other superb screen offerings, The Revenant, The Big Short and Spotlight, are about bullying and abusive behaviour in the Wild West, the banks, and the Catholic Church.
Meanwhile, Mark Clark, of the Tory party’s “Road Trip 2015”, has disappeared from sight and sound since his alleged tyrannising was exposed. Good riddance — except that the celebrated “dossier” of his offences, allegedly sent to Grant Shapps and Baroness Warsi (whose accusatory letter to the Guardian broke the story) has still never been produced. Nevertheless, unproven allegations brought down Shapps and they’re still baying for the blood of Lord Feldman. Harasser of the week? J’accuse.
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