DELINGPOLE: Handbags, Chocolates, Housework – My Tips For A Happy Women’s Day

UNITED STATES - CIRCA 1950s: Two women with iron. (Photo by George Marks/Retrofile/Getty Images)
George Marks/Retrofile/Getty

Happy International Women’s Day, Girls. As a member of the only sex on earth that loves you and cares about you and isn’t secretly plotting to undermine you at every turn, I’d like to offer you some pro tips on how to get the most of this very special day

Don’t Go On A March

Why would you go on a march? Marches are, like, ew. They play havoc with your feet if you’re wearing heels; the noise – all that shrieking and chanting and screeching – is like the extra, hot-floored room in hell where they keep all the cats; the preponderance of blue hair and voluminous cellulite is simply unspeakable. And anyway, what exactly are you protesting against? Basically, you won. Enjoy it!

Celebrate Your Victory

What victory? Why only the fact that if you were born a woman in the West you won life’s lottery. Apart from having longer orgasms and a longer lifespan than men and basically – secretly – being in charge of men, you get more favourable treatment in the courts, you’re more likely to go to university, you benefit from positive discrimination in the workplace and, of course, from the fact that the pay gap is a myth.

Buy a Handbag; or Some Chocolate; or go to a Spa; or Whatever

Seriously, just do whatever the hell makes you happy and gets you off our case. Sure we (men, that is) may pretend to be shocked when you let slip just how much you paid for that small, shiny leather carrying device with the handles on it and that which clearly matters to you so very, very much. But we’re not. We’re just relieved a) because it means we’re now spared the horror of having to choose one for you ourselves (and inevitably getting it wrong because we just don’t get handbags, we just don’t, OK?) and b) if you’re happy we’re happy. A man is only as happy as his least happy child, they say. This applies, with knobs on, to his wives and girlfriends.

Have a Drink. But just the One…

Bad men like drunk girls because they’re easy prey. But really, it’s not a good look. In fact, apart from the blue hair and the let-yourself-go body fat, possibly the very worst consequence of modern feminism is this idea that girls have a right to get just as drunk and behave just as outrageously and boorishly as boys. I think the notion of such a “right” would be more defensible if it came with an acceptance of the consequences. For example, there has been a spate of court cases in Britain – brought by our feminazi Crown Prosecution Service – in which perfectly innocent young men have been dragged into the dock and charged with rape on account of complaints by drunken young missies who led them on and later changed their minds once they’d sobered up slightly. Not fair. Not fair, at all. Most recent victim is Lewis Tappenden, 24, who nearly went to prison and whose reputation was ruined because of a false accusation by an 18-year old student who told friends that she was going “out to pull” but who decided after the event “I just wasn’t in to it.” Allison Pearson is well worth reading on this.

Don’t Be A Feminist – None of the Best Women Are…

Yeah, I know all women consider themselves “feminists” in the broadest sense that they believe in male/female equality. But I think we know what I mean by wrong sort of feminist. I think of all the women in the media I admire – Allison Pearson, Julia Hartley Brewer, Katie Hopkins, Isabel Oakeshott, Gina Loudon, Lauren Southern, Ann Coulter, Ann McElhinney, Claire Fox, etc – not one of them is constricted by the prejudice and narrowness of thought and bitterness that goes with modern feminism. And if you look at history it’s just the same. None of the truly great women – Boudicca, Aphra Behn, Jane Austen, Florence Nightingale, Margaret Thatcher – was a feminist. They were brilliant people who just happened to be female.

Don’t Be Scared To Enjoy Doing The Dishes

It’s the love that dare not speak its name. And, yes, OK, I know that you don’t necessarily enjoy housework in the way you enjoy foot spas or hot stone massages or buying handbags or leafing through holiday brochures or guys with eight-inch tongues and the ability to breathe through their ears. But it’s a racing certainty that you enjoy it more than the men in your life because that’s just the way God made us. You know how men always leave one or two plates or maybe a casserole dish undone? You know how they don’t pick up wet towels? You know how they can leave the sheets unchanged or the floor unhoovered for months on end without apparently caring? Well that’s because they don’t care. And it’s not some ugly ploy to annoy you. It’s because they don’t even notice. Men are brutes. Savages. They’re good for some things, like taking out the trash and, if you pick the right one, making loads of money and keeping you in the style to which you’d like to become accustomed. But ultimately it’s up to you not them to make the home look homely, not them. The feminists who tell you otherwise are doing you a disservice. If you don’t make your surroundings nice – and if you don’t, no one else will – then the only person who suffers, ultimately is you. Not only will you feel like you’re living in a sty but all your female friends will judge you. Because that’s what women are like. Sorry. It’s one of the few things in the world, perhaps even the only one, maybe, which are totally not men’s fault…


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