Wags and bimbos
I'M NOT the only one to feel uncomfortable about the way the wives of the British political leaders were trotted out during the recent election like show ponies.
TV personality Jeremy Paxman noted that the only coverage of women during the election concerned the wives of the leaders and what they were wearing.
It's taken up by columnist Tom Humphries in the Irish Times: "All those generations of bright and fiery women who had fought to kick down the doors and then nobody stepping forward to pick up the sword, just a placid generation sidling off to the cosmetic counter."
Humphries (who writes principally about sport) links the Wags phenomenon (Wives and girlfriends of football celebrities) to the decline of women's sport generally.
"If Wags are the most prominent sports-related role models we can offer our daughters, who have we to blame?"
Wags – yes, that's exactly how the wives of David Cameron, Nick Clegg and Gordon Brown were treated by the media – as bimbos - and it's exactly how it was planned by the spin doctors."
I only hope Cameron doesn't start emulating David Beckham's tattoo work. The spin doctors must tell him there's a limit to this proletarian stuff.
Free-for-all
BOXING weigh-ins are fraught affairs, the antagonists facing each other down for all they're worth. An overseas TV channel featured a beauty the other night where two Italian fighters were actually rubbing noses they were so close as they gave the hard stares.
Then there was a bit of head-butting. Then their handlers rushed in to separate them. Then the handlers themselves threw a few punches. Then all hell broke loose as the crowd rushed the stage where the weigh-in was being staged, and a general free-for-all broke out.
Prominent in the slugfest was an attractive blonde girl who landed a few good ones.
It's not clear whether the boxing match every took place as scheduled. Whatever, it would be difficult for it to compete as a spectacle with the weigh-in.
All that was missing was the Italian prime minister, Silvio Berlusconi – but maybe the blonde was one of his paramours.
Rugby yarn
READER Graham Rudolph shares with us a rugby story. The Lions manager, Dick Muir, flies to Baghdad to watch a young Iraqi play. He's impressed and arranges for him to come over to Gauteng.
Two weeks later the Lions are down 18-6 down to the Bulls with only 20 minutes left to play. Muir gives the young Iraqi winger the nod and on he goes.
The youngster is a sensation. He scores four tries in 20 minutes and wins the game for the Lions. The fans are delighted, the players and coaches are delighted and the media just love this new star.
When he comes off the pitch he phones his mum to tell her about his first day in Super 14 rugby.
"Hello, Mum," he says. "Guess what? I played for only 20 minutes today. We were 18-6 down but I scored four tries and we won. Everybody loves me, the fans, the media, they all love me."
"Wonderful," says his mother. "Now let me tell you about my day. Your father got shot in the street and robbed; your sister and I were ambushed, gang-raped and beaten; your brother has joined a gang of looters and all while you were having such a great time playing rugby."
The young lad is upset. "I'm so sorry to hear that."
"Sorry?" she shrieks. "Sorry? It's your fault we moved to Jo'burg in the first place!"
Tailpiece
AN AMERICAN reporter asks a rich old man how he made his money.
The old man replies: "Well, son, it was 1932, the3 depth of the Gret Depression. I was down to my last nickel and I invested that nickel in an apple. I spent the entire day polishing that apple and, at the end of the day, I sold it for 10 cents. Next morning I invested those 10 cents in two apples. I spent the entire day polishing them and I sold them for 20 cents. I continued this system for a month, by the end of which I'd accumulated a fortune of $1.37. Then my wife's uncle died and left us $2 million."
Last word
I never did give them hell. I just told the truth, and they thought it was hell.
GRAHAM LINSCOTT
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