““Are you lesbian?” Twice I was asked the question this week, granted at the same party. But seriously?! Apparently being selectively single, out with a gorgeous girlfriend and nearing forty, that’d be my aspirational demographic according to twitty and twatty. I toyed with titillating their taste buds and asking if I were the stereotypical butch looking type or t’other. Then considered a consequence of their truth. I love Christmas time, being around my family, friends, the fun and food from Iceland. But being described as Fatima Whitbread, this year I’d consider calling it off. “Thank you,” I replied, for my own very rational reason.
Did I really care what Mr and Mrs, what are you called, think of me? A little. Maybe they were judging me for getting to my age and not being married and this makes me a bit sad. So what to do about these people whom I shall probably never see again, nor whose names do I recall?
Well this is what some people who care so much about their image and others perception of it, do: “… I have recently experienced stuff that surpasses sensibility and wavers way beyond my wildest wishes. I only watch rom. coms and choose to avoid horror movies so never truly imagined baseless barbaric behaviour possible. Until this happened. Unless you’re part of my close clique I can never share the details of, the this, in my then life…” What’s the this, I nosily nose around for, what’d he do?! Well the this you and I (fellow lesbians) shall never know the dreary details of, but that sentiment is how I can only imagine Alex Hall felt when she was served and slapped across the proverbial chops with the worrisome weight of a super duper gagging order. “Happy Christmas honey, I’m home! Fancy a sh** but when others find out about us, do be a special princess and keep the details to yourself. All right sweet cheeks.” Let’s talk/think/protect me me me and then more about meeeee.
Cue Jeremy Clarkson aka silence of the lamb’s wannabe and his version of how Alex and indeed I should’ve perhaps dealt with this Simon Cowell esq journalist duo promoting suggestions for my sexuality. Jeremy is the UK’s latest gagging extraordinaire.* The self proclaimed motor mouth of the motor TV industry allegedly banging a ban on an ex, disallowing her to have a chin wag about the mighty chinny chin chinned one’s cheekiness. Word on the street is he and she engaged in an affair while he was married. Nice driving skills big boy but why so shy suddenly?
Arret right there! I hear you all and double concur. His philandering fabulous filly named Alex isn’t all blameless in their this’s and that’s of their then life. She knew he was married and in the eyes of the law, infidelity is wrong and I double this sentiment with bing bong bad boy bells on. Why should she be allowed to bleat about their joint wrong doings, she’s not exactly an innocent party? But is it fair that since the desperate details became public, Alex’s not able to defend/explain herself publicly because of this legal Burka her promiscuous (ex?) partner has forced her to don? He’s choking her voice and some may say he’s purporting the real truth (in this case, info from both sides)and creating a type of fantasy. The Lord of lewdness is trying to change reality by depicting a fake form of a fantasy is he not? So what we see on TV may not be who he really is.
I am now questioning the legal muffler’s aka Clarkson’s rational and start to think about ducks. D**k, duck; you following my logical thought process children? Blame Myers – Briggs. Pierce and I are fascinated by the duck ding-dongs we observe at the pond in Battersea Park. Rather Cirque de Soleil in their theatrics and always with a fabulously funny ending. They peck, prod and poke at each other, feathers flying and spitting as they cut a line and chase each other around the pond. And then they stop. Dead still and they stare, squarely at each other and with a final squawk that concludes it’s over and out in the open, they swim off in opposite directions as independent hippy hoppy happy hens. My point? Is currently unclear to me at time of writing…
So the ducks are permitted freedom of speech, and are clearly oblivious to their peer’s judgements, but I wonder if Donald Duck periodically started popping into our local park via his G5 jet from Disney, should he, as an A lister, also have priority access to this hierarchical historic statue aka Jerry’s muffler? Well the boy has a reputation to uphold and needs to control what his public think about him. Right Walt Disney, or am I being quackers? What if Donald fancied letting his feathers down, a super duck’s super injunction would certainly keep the squealers silent and his public image and reputation in tact. Well what judge would argue with the Donald of all ducks, he’s depicted as a cutsie white ducky type but seemingly the reality is different, the drake likes to party. When the park lights are dimmed and the last guest leaves, he’s off secretly organising all night raves with Mickey Mouse, Snow white and the seven dwarves. Hoi paloy, this bad boy image would never wash with the brand and his public. I can only imagine the Walt Disney legal team quaking into their millions of merchandising contracts and oversized fancy dress costume boots. “Mickey, Donald needs to revert to his fantasy image immediately, we need to lead by example and let’s all imagine this is a reality. Who he really is. That ducks’s public dancing days are over! If the kids don’t like Donald, I’m set to loose my Bugatti” Sssshhh. So in public Donald is a hero and in private he’s a little horror. Maybe Donald duck is more similar to Jeremy Clarkson than I originally thought. Is interesting that some will go to terrific lengths to avoid judgment. I want to know why they make such an effort to cover up who they really are and what they do, or is it they just want others to always like them?
Jeremy, oh king of verbal diarrhoea, who made you the new Hu Jintao? Your legal muzzle is the work of a mean militant madman… or is it?
Now I find myself pontificating the purpose of muffling another’s dulcet tones other than keeping your sponsors sweet..as a lemon. Gosh, all those people who now may think I’m a lesbian. Hopefully it’ll be a little like a Chinese whisper and may end up as me loving leafy legumes or Lesbos the Greek island?! But back to grand people controlling public perception and avoiding being judged negatively. What’s this deal? Essentially being summoned via a court and informed Donald/Jeremy has commanded a situation/experience/event including them and Mickey/Alex, not be discussed publicly. Rather Dickensian me thinks. Thou shalt not speak about me, unlesseth you speaketh nice stuffeth. The sentence for non-conformance? Alex Hall is sentenced to three full days of Top Gear Christmas specials and Mickey will watch the Food channel who this week are prepping a bird in a bird in a bird. No lion’s den here but instead a tearing tongue lashing from a heinous high court judge, a hefty fine and a refresher course in being a minion. Plus as it’s Christmas, a reminder that your vote don’t count baby. I wonder then if it’s a type of primeval chest pumping for the mufflers? “I be da biggest da baddest big boy out dere!” But they choose to chest pump behind a weird looking crew donning Videla super mops on their bonces. Boo!
So continuing with my minion theme I am trying to rationalise Lord Jerry’s behaviour and considering if it is only super human hero’s with a public image and merchandising rights to protect, who control the output of us lesser mortals? Or in fact are we all a nation of controlling types and in our own way attempt to control how others think of us? Are we happy just being us or do we change to suit and please our audience?
Hands up anyone who has done something they’re ashamed of or would like to keep private? Sadly I be included with bells on. From romantic dalliances with unsavoury types to bad business decisions to once stealing a Cadbury’s cream egg age six. (Has been on my conscience every since and Sainsbury’s I have paid the price via my chocolate consumption disorder that I fuel via multipacks I nowadays purchase vs. steal from your store.) I’ve been there done that and have the t-shirt, in several sizes sadly. Regularly I would share the dreary details of my doldrums filled stories with my long-suffering pals and finish with: please don’t share this with anyone, (The Z listers gagging order.) But the older and even older I get, I find myself more readily accepting that my actions always lead to consequences and these actions are always initiated by me. Surely at my age I’m making my own decisions hey! So if I do something bad or occasionally interesting to others, I need to own it, deal with it, learn from it and move on. ABCD. Is the law. So would I ever get the law involved? My rule; business is for ego and relationships are for love. So friends, family and anyone whom I love; you’re absolutely safe forever – your secrets are safe with me always. But I still wonder if this would suddenly change with A list status, pots of cash and Donald Ducks merchandising rights, the ego bullets of society. Or are these unsavory nuisances, simply egotistical, deluded, irresponsible, individuals who take zero responsibility for their actions and choose to blame the world, but never themselves. See If I gagged everyone who knew my secrets or conversely created a public image everyone loved but that wasn’t truly me, surely I might just forgot my most important life lesson:
Who I really truly am.
So Mr and Mrs thingy bobby and for anyone who cares, I love lesbians (but not in that way). The man thing is a tricky one when my favourite night out is staying in and cooking a chicken. But I also love/prefer my rabbits, Anne and Summer. Whatever will you think of me. Bleuch
* I understand Jeremy’s since lifted the ban on Alex chatting. How very virtuous of thou Saint Jeremy. Await your imminent OBE.