Caroline Flint and a ‘stiletto to the heart’. Cause she’s like, a woman, yeah?

It seems a little silly to be bleating feminist objections regarding Caroline Flint’s resignation, and the media coverage thereof, when the elephant in the room is gaining further momentum – but silly it is not.

The casual misogyny with which Caroline Flint’s departure has been reported further underlies the fact that latent sexism is the last acceptable refuse of the bigot. Not openly hateful – female politicians are treated with kid gloves. Belittled and undermined with a nasty whiff of ‘awr, she’s trying to be a politician’, women in positions of power and still seen as tokenistic and quaint. Although she did ‘smoulder for the camera’ on a shoot for Elle Magazine, so I guess she’s asking for it, right?

The First

I did something for The F-Word, which is really quite fortunate for my inaugural post. This is basically a dream come true. If you haven’t visited The F-Word already, really, you should. It’s absolutely blinking marvellous.

Now all I need to do is finish James Bond on the Game Cube and save up enough money to afford one of Vincent Gallo’s personal services, and I will die an (almost) happy woman. I would mention that I watched The Apprentice last night and was not completely dismayed that the brown haired one won. IN YOUR FACE, BLONDIE. She looks like a reanimated corpse, albeit, a very pretty one. Also, good to see two women in the final considering Sir Sugar’s less than progressive thoughts on employing women. Wonder if he learnt that playing bugle in the Jewish Lad’s Brigade, Stamford Hill Division, huh?

Except that I am going to attempt to contain solipsistic details of the minutiae of my day to day existence at a bare minimum. So I won’t.

Am I going to finish my posts with the obligatory ‘currently listening to’ feature? Am I, am I, am I? Yes, I am. Currently listening to: Soap&Skin – Spiracle