The Bitch, a Betrayal, and some Bandits!

Well Darlings,

Yes, okay then, I'll admit it. Once upon a time - this really is a fairy story, so you'd better believe it! - I did for a short time in my very early schooldays read Mickey Mouse, the comic. It was in the days when many a comic, including that one, cost around the same price as a chocolate bar - a Mars bar was 3d or 4d (old money - pre-decimalisation). Today, I notice, for the price of some comics you could buy more than half-a-dozen Mars bars, and a few of them can set you back more than six times the price of a newspaper. I hear you ask: Why is this? The answer is quite simple. Today we live in an age of market forces. Few things today cost what they are really worth - they cost as much as can realistically be obtained for them. The modern philosophy of reasoning with children rather than laying down the law (discipline) works well for market forces - mostly the children win the arguments, and they will have their comic no matter what it costs.

But that was not the point of this story, I have digressed. No, the point I wanted to make was that I think we still retain a great fondness for the comics with which we were brought up, and perhaps all the subjects contained within their covers. Many may not have survived the years but a mention of them, or something that reminds you of them, can still produce those pangs of nostalgia: thoughts maybe of a wonderful time in your life - a time of innocence and when everything was an adventure.

So, being brought up on Mickey Mouse in my days of innocence, you can imagine the mixed feelings that engulfed me when I read about the pirate video made at Disneyland Paris showing Goofy grabbing hold of Minnie's boobs, and Mickey having a gay romp - with a snowman, I believe. There has to be a joke here about snowballs, but I'll leave it out. Apparently the risqu footage was shot backstage by another worker using a concealed camera in an area that is inaccessible to guests - so it is all for real! - and it only lasts for a couple of minutes of the otherwise normal film showing the Disneyland at large. Is it funny? Well, I haven't seen it but yes, I guess it is - once you get over the initial shock of your childhood heroes having sexual lives.

A Disney spokesperson has said: "We regret any offence it (the video) might cause. Action has been taken to prevent this happening again."

Now that statement might be a comfort for some people, but for me it has turned my shock into pure horror! Please, someone tell me they haven't castrated Mickey Mouse!

And now for some more political correctness gone mad: For many years Alan & Thomas, the insurers, have like countless other firms and places of work circulated cards for all the other staff to sign when it has been some employee's birthday. However all that has now ended for this company. Why? Because they fear any humorous references to being "past it" or "over the hill" written in a card may be considered ageist and in breach of the new age discrimination laws, thereby leaving them open to prosecution. They say the new law is "a potential minefield", and as insurers I guess they know quite a bit about interpreting the law.

The new laws, which came into effect on Oct 1st, make it illegal for an employer to discriminate against any worker on the basis of age when it comes to hiring, firing, promotion, or retirement. This has led to employer's fears of a floodgate of younger workers who will sue if they are not paid and treated exactly the same as older ones, and vice versa. To further worry them, employers now bear the burden of positively proving they haven't discriminated against a worker in a lawsuit where, should they lose the case, the potential rewards against them are uncapped. And hot on the heels of all this, the Political Correctness Brigade seem to have collared every adjective or description that could be put with age, and you now use it at your peril.

Political correctness is making a mockery of the law by using it to ban many time-served expressions of affection. These people are taking our language and mutilating it. Old, when used in association with people, can no longer mean anything now but something bad. They have taken everything else that might have been associated with this word - things like "wisdom", "liable to be knowledgeable", or "one to be respected" (to name just three that readily spring to mind) - and have trampled it underfoot.

Some terms of endearment you may no longer use without worrying about the PC Brigade: "Old John had to miss the game." - even though in this context old may be suggesting a close long-time friendship. "I'll see what the old man says about it." - even though this refers to the boss, a person who may enjoy this expression recognising his seniority. "I'll get Tom some help, he's not a spring chicken anymore." - even though this might be caringly recognising an actual limiting factor. "I say old boy, wasn't that a great show!" - even though this may be expressed as a term of equality, brotherhood and affection. All my school chums have always been "old boy" to each other, but not anymore, I guess.

At the other end of the scale, don't ever refer to anyone as being "wet behind the ears" anymore without first looking over your shoulder, and even to mention: "I'll see what the younger ones say about it," may now get you viewed with suspicion - why should you be expecting their opinions to differ merely because of their age? (For God's sake - why shouldn't they?) Finally, and relevant to many a shopkeeper, do beware of calling anyone "son" who is not really your son - not only are you being ageist by bringing attention to an obvious age difference (whether you are actually older or not), you could also be seen as casting aspersions on the morality of that person's mother! What a world we live in!

Where will it all end with this political correctness? In utter silence by a nation of hermits? A nation of people who may not be spoken of as fat, thin, tall, short, midget, dwarf, blind, deaf, dumb, mute, retarded, ill, crippled, bald, old, or young (amongst many, many other terms), and where no-one may be referred to as Jock, Paddy, Taffy, or Joe, (to name but a few) or ever pop along to a Packy shop for some fags or visit a Chinky for a curry - no matter how affectionately these terms may be meant or received? A nation where no difference between any of us may be noticed or mentioned, and where all the races, religions and cultures making up our multiracial society shall enjoy absolute equality in all things - providing, of course, we are not referring here to the endemic British people or Christianity?

It's all a little bit like Communism, isn't it? Everybody is equal - except some are more equal than others. The privileged set will, of course, include the politically correct people.

I started this column by referring to my younger days. For some of those days I happened to live with my grandmother in a Guest House on the outskirts of the London Borough of Croydon. A major part of the clientele at this establishment were theatrical performers, and they came in all shapes, colours, and sizes. I particularly remember a young (but not to me at the time - I was about six!) conjurer who stayed for several weeks. He was the first non-white person I had come close enough to, to examine our differences - to touch his black skin, and to query the pink palms of his hands. I can remember sitting on his knee and checking those hands, and the coarse curly black head of hair. I guess now I must have said a lot of embarrassing things, but he seemed not to mind. He was a great guy who played games with me (no, he wasn't a pervert!), amazed me with his magic tricks, and even occasionally took me to the swings in the nearby park. When he had to move on he bought me a present, (a magic set, what else?) and I can remember crying; pleading with him to stay.

The point I'm making here is: that house was full of differences - and nobody gave a damn. There were several Oriental ladies at this time (I don't exactly know what they did); three dwarves (I can remember pulling them apart too!) - and everybody referred to them as just that - dwarves - and they didn't mind, no offence was intended or taken; then there were a couple of other people; and then my friend the coloured magician - again, everybody called him that - coloured - and he was quite happy with it. In those days nothing was wrong with the word "coloured", it wasn't offensive, it was merely descriptive. For a description you need a word, and very often there is nothing at all wrong with that word, it is not offensive - not until some people like the Politically Correct Brigade make it so by convincing you it is.

My grandfather was quite happy to be called old - I used to call him "old daddy". My father, "soldier daddy", had to be away for much of the time, and I never knew my mother, she died whilst I was still a small baby. Everybody knew "old daddy" was deaf - he was deaf in one ear, and bald - he was almost totally bald. He may not have enjoyed any of those conditions, but I'm sure he was sensible enough to know that changing the words for any of them would not have improved his life or those conditions by one iota. As words: deaf, bald, and old were merely descriptions, accurate ones, and there was absolutely nothing offensive in those words.

To call a Pakistani person a Packy (or Packi) should be no more offensive to anyone than calling a Scotsman a Scot (but never Scotch - that's the drink!) It's sad that today some people have been allowed to make it offensive. For years I phoned a local restaurant, the Mayflower in Swindon, always starting off with: "Is that the Chinky's?" I'm sure that had they have minded they would have said so, and they would not have invited me and my partner for the free Xmas Dinner they used to put on for some of their customers every year. Another Chinese guy I know, everybody affectionately calls him Sam because we have no hope of pronouncing his name correctly, used to advertise his chip shop as "the local Chinky". There never was anything offensive in "Chinky", not until some people made it so.

At the hands of the politically correct so many long-standing terms of affection fall foul. One should no longer greet anyone with the likes of: "my love", "dear", or "sweetheart" anymore - not unless they really are that - and something as commonly heard in London as: "Hello me ol' China - 'ow yer doing?" has these PC people positively doing somersaults. I say: Leave us alone! Find something better to do!

"What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet; so Romeo would, were he not Romeo call'd, retain that dear perfection which he owes without that title." - Romeo and Juliet, by William Shakespeare.

People are people, and words are merely words that mean what people make them mean, they are not that important. Important is how we feel about each other and how we treat each other, and busybodies playing around with the language we use does nothing to help or improve anything. I am fully convinced that the day we wake up and outlaw political correctness is the day we will solve one hell of a lot of this country's problems!

See you next week . . .

"The Bitch!" 21/10/06. - With "The Bitch" perhaps being a politically incorrect term for the critical naff old queen who writes this column - and even that description now being politically incorrect in itself too! Oh, dear! What are we supposed to do to appease these PC nutcases? Lie about everything?

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