You won’t thank me for alerting you to this, but the Labour MP Alison McGovern has breasts. As if that is not bad enough she took them with her when she appeared on Channel 4 News and then, unforgivably on a summer day, wore a black top under her suit jacket, which displayed an inch of cleavage. This was too much for one viewer.
JG Hunter fired off a letter to the shadow city minister, scolding her for showing “prominent cleavage” because it had “distracted male observers from hearing what you were saying”, presumably a bit like ear muffs. Hunter, a member of the Labour party, wagered that such a parade of chest-cleft was “deliberate in order to attract attention to yourself ” — unacceptable coming from an “experienced women politician” [sic].
We can only hope McGovern now has a stern word with her glory-seeking tits and invests in a new wardrobe of turtlenecks so that viewers such as JG Hunter won’t be inconvenienced again. She said she wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry over the letter. Oh, laugh I think. Definitely laugh.
The author Dave Barry once joked that “scientists now believe the primary biological function of breasts is to make men stupid”, but it’s striking how often in life they also seem to make some of them absolutely furious (we don’t know for certain that JG Hunter is a man because no first name is given, but I’d risk a tenner on it).
A Mr John Reynolds wrote a blistering missive over cleavage-crime to the Labour activist Jessica Asato after she appeared on The Daily Politics. “Please cover your breasts properly,” he demanded. “Sluttish behaviour is degrading. Have some dignity.’’ Alas he doesn’t elaborate on what “properly” means but nuns used to go in for breast-binding, so there’s something for her to consider.
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Kirsty Wark was once lambasted by a viewer for presenting Newsnight “naked from the waist down”, but closer investigation found she’d actually been fully clothed in a black dress that finished a couple of inches above the knee. No lady parts to see at all.
Given the opprobrium directed at McGovern in that letter — which she shared following a Spectator article by Charles Moore discussing Yvette Cooper’s and Liz Kendall’s looks — you’d think that she had sat opposite Jon Snow sporting a full-beam Dolly Parton bosom, while saying: “Check out this pair of belters, eh, Jon?”
But I’ve watched the tape and, no, her breasts seem to be sitting quietly minding their own business while she discusses George Osborne’s record as chancellor. Angela Merkel and Jacqui Smith have also faced disproportionate outrage/schoolboy sniggers when failing to lock away their — get this — “weapons of mass distraction”.
This is a bit left-field, I know, but could it be that this isn’t a female clothing problem at all? That the problem is with those who are so one-track-minded they can’t see past knockers and knickers? Who find smut everywhere, like the Victorians who refused even to say the word “trousers” and instead used the term “southern necessities”?
It’s quite an admission, as an adult human, to say that a pair of clothed breasts genuinely renders you incapable of concentrating. Never mind the mammaries — I’d be more concerned about keeping that particular problem under wraps.
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I predict a disaster for Heston
I’m underwhelmed to learn that, as his latest culinary trick, Heston Blumenthal has been consulting the illusionist and hypnotist Derren Brown on how to read diners’ minds.
The idea is to surprise them with dishes he thinks they might like based on their lives and nostalgic feelings about food.
As someone who can’t abide modern faffing, obsessing and leering over food I can’t see what’s wrong with the foolproof way to achieve that in a restaurant — send a waiter over and chuffing well ask them.
Want to relax? Ditch the spa
With 12 million women reportedly feeling they’re about to burn out from their fast-paced lives, Sanctuary Spa has released a new ad campaign, #LetGo, in which older women say what they would do differently if they had their time again.
Their pearls of wisdom include spending more time on the dance floor, cuddling their children more and “extending those goodnight kisses instead of moaning about having to get up early in the morning”. Yes, all fair enough, even if the women do look suspiciously like actors.
But, sorry Sanctuary Spa, there’s something else I’d include and that is “not wasting a day of my life being ‘pampered’ in an overpriced spa”. Spending a fortune to loll about in a towel while someone hard-sells you skincare products you don’t need then waves you off with a greasy, red face is the polar opposite of relaxing.
If you are paying someone to let their fish nibble at your feet, you’ve got too much time on your hands, not too little. Life is definitely too short for “pamper days”.