My Penis Writes...

I was going to write something else this morning but found myself absorbed in writing this response to yet another miserable man-hating article by Suzanne Moore over at The Guardian. In many respects, I still prefer The Guardian to other newspapers but lately it has been testing my patience and I do find myself reading it less than I used to. Its feminist agenda has become quite virulent over the summer and probably needs to be pruned back to let in a little daylight and some rational thought.  Another day and another nasty man-baiting article on the front page of The Guardian… Congratulations, you rich London middle class liberals. I find myself reading your newspaper less each day. Your tedious feminist agenda might be attracting the audience demographic you crave but you're losing the one you already have. Perhaps your new North American readership loves this new direction. Yee haw! I'm just from the North of England, where this newspaper once originated, and you are increasingly less relevant to my life. Up here, having a penis doesn't seem that significant even when we are sticking them in toasters or forgetting to wash them. We have other fun games to play such as dealing with government cuts (remember them?) and the increasingly brazen divide between the north and the south. And to think I used to send my articles to The Guardian with the hope of publication. Oh, such typical naïve penis-led optimism! It never happened so I thought my comic prose might be at fault. Now I see it was my comic penis. There it limply hangs, ready to be ridiculed because obviously that's all I am, all I amount to. You say The Sun demeans women by publishing Page 3 but, if I'm honest, I can't see much difference to the way you routinely demean those of us damned by the meat. Whatever abilities I bring to this world mean nothing because of this precious piece of nothing between my thighs. My entire being is routinely reduced to the worst stereotype. Yesterday Polly Toynbee implied that because I'm a man, I'm part of that misogynistic culture that apparently pervades our country. Perhaps I am. Perhaps I have no right to reply. I'm just another of those slobbering would-be rapists, Twitter abusers, craven women haters in that big solid ball of ugliness you've created and labelled 'men'. So, thank you Guardian. You've put me off reading anything else here today. And thank you Suzanne Moore. You've earned your monthly stipend by again lowering the standards of a once great newspaper and proving that in an already shallow world there is always room for a little more crass vulgarity. I would say more but I must stop typing. My penis is getting very sore from hitting all these keys.