Note to David Cameron: You don’t get to do feminism

One of the first rules of twenty-first century feminism is that no one gets to say who is or isn’t a feminist. Well, today I’m going to break that rule. David Cameron, you are not a feminist.

Yes, I know you have daughters and that you do not actively disapprove of a) women working, b) women voting and c) women earning the same as men providing the economic system you support deems them to be doing “work of equal value” (ha!). Furthermore, I understand that you and George Osborne wish to take credit for the fact that most of our lowest paid workers are women and hence will “benefit”  most from your living wage that isn’t actually a living wage. I am sure you see the women around you as semi-equals (after all, they’re rich). The thing is, none of this is enough.

In a piece for The Times today you bravely exploit the “male politicians can use their families as examples without it undermining their professional status” double standard in order to tell us that “when [your] daughters, Nancy and Florence, start work, [you] want them to look back at the gender pay gap in the same way we look back at women not voting and not working — as something outdated and wrong that we overcame, together.” It may surprise you to learn that women have always worked. By that I don’t just mean working-class women or stay-at-home mothers. I mean all women. Throughout history, even upper-class women have taken on political and administrative roles, albeit often within the private sphere (female leadership did not start and end with Margaret Thatcher). That women’s work has been invisible, appropriated and/or unpaid does not mean that it hasn’t existed. We are dealing, not with some bizarre prejudice which has meant that women were not “allowed” to work, but with a structure known as patriarchy. Patriarchy has no issues whatsoever with women working – indeed, patriarchy depends on female labour – just as long as it continues to get the work for free (also, as an aside, “you” did bog-all to overcome the “outdated and wrong” political disenfranchisement of women. You might be posh, but you’re not Emmeline sodding Pankhurst). Continue reading


Women and children first: David Cameron does “normal” life

It’s not often I feel sorry for our boorish, entitled, mundane-face-of-evil Prime Minister David Cameron. Nevertheless, I don’t have a heart of stone so today I’ll make an exception.

Poor David has been badly advised. During a conference week when his party’s looking as nasty as can be, he’s decided to do one of those “showing my nice side” interviews. Unfortunately, he’s rather overreached himself by attempting to prove that a) he knows all about looking after toddlers and b) he doesn’t patronise women. Oh David, you silly man. You really need to know your limits. Continue reading

And a half for the lady: Tory politics for girls

Laura Trott, originally appointed to advise David Cameron on how his policies will affect women, will now have to cover education and childcare, too. This reminds me of one of my dad’s sayings, which he’d use to explain why men shouldn’t have to do housework: “why have a dog and bark yourself?” The fact is, if you’ve already got one woman to deal equality (whatever that means, eh?), you might as well get her to deal with all the other “calm down, dear” laydees’ issues – childcare, early years, that sort of thing.

I imagine in another 17 months Trott will get tights, makeup and the colour pink added to her portfolio. Maybe they’ll also allow her to stick a broom up her arse and sweep the Houses of Parliament as she goes along (it’s possible they’ve also confused her with the cyclist Laura Trott and think she’ll win them pretty gold medals, too). Continue reading

David Cameron’s hard-nosed, hard-luck tales

I’ve heard it said that every person has a novel deep inside them, just waiting to be written. To be honest, I can’t remember who said it or in what context, but this doesn’t really matter, what with it being total bollocks. Take me, for instance. If I were to try writing an extended work of fiction it would be breathtakingly awful. I can’t do plot, would get bored midway through and am so self-absorbed that every single character would, essentially, be me, except for some token additional detail (having different colour hair, for instance, or a third nipple – no, wait, that’s still me).*Anyhow, the truth is, while I don’t believe everyone on the planet is a secret Charles Dickens (finger on the pulse, yet again), I do think there’s one literary capability which we all share: all of us, each and every one, could pen a “tragic life stories” autobiography. I’m not kidding – I seriously think we all have that potential (apart from Andrew Collins, but then that was the whole point of the rather wonderful Where did it all go right? He’s the only person, ever, not to have several tons of crap from childhood just waiting to gush forth). Continue reading

The economy’s just not that into you

If you are an able-bodied politician or journalist who’s feeling left out during the Paralympics, don’t worry – there’s a competition just for you. It’s called “the most shameless way to exploit Paralympic achievements to promote self-serving right-wing arguments”, and it’s been going on since way before the Opening Ceremony. Competition is fierce, but don’t be shy – everyone’s having a go.

For instance, here’s Cristina Odone, writing about work capability assessments in the Telegraph on 30 July: Continue reading

Some squeaks from a mildly political mouse

Politics has gone all hormonal again, hasn’t it? One minute Tim Yeo’s asking David Cameron whether he’s “man or mouse” – believe it or not, it takes nerves of steel to go back on a pre-election pledge – and the next David’s popping up in the Mail on Sunday to show us all just how hard he is. And he’s really, really fucking hard. Kind of like Ross Kemp with a plummy accent.* Man, there’s so much dick-swinging and testosterone abounding, if I were a more modest woman, I wouldn’t know where to look. Continue reading

David Cameron: Voice of powerful, mega-rich, old Etonian working parents everywhere

… working sets a good example. I spot that with my children. They imitate. I was sitting on the sofa the other day, reading some files – some quite secret stuff, actually – and I turned round and there was Florence, aged less than two. She’d got next to me, got a bit of paper and a pen and was copying me.

David Cameron, When Glamour met David..., Oct 2012

That was our wonderful Prime Minister, answering the question “David, are you able to come up with a twee anecdote in which you reveal yourself to be simultaneously an attentive father and a mega-important alpha male, and which at the same time gets in a quick dig at the workshy?” And is he? Of course he is! Only Glamour have somehow got the questions mixed up, meaning it looks like he’s responding to this instead: “My childcare fees are astronomical and tax credits have been cut. Could you tell me more about your new commission looking into this?” Ha ha! As if! Continue reading

Aiming for the squeezed middle

Have you had a go on the Guardian Breadline Britain income comparison tool yet? Go on, it’s fun. I’m not sure exactly what the purpose of it is, though. The only thing that seems certain is that whatever label you get given – in poverty, on the edge of poverty, squeezed middle, right up to super-rich – you will feel bitter about it and sense that, somehow, you’re the one who’s really worst off.

I had a go at it and found myself to be in the very top category – super-rich. This surprised me – I know we’ve fallen on hard times, but it comes to something when my own life constitutes living the dream. Then I realised that I’d accidentally added in an extra nought (my propensity to do stupid things like this being one of the many, many reasons why I am not super-rich after all). So anyhow, I had another go. It’s amazing the difference a nought makes. Turns out I am in fact on the edge of poverty.

This allocation also surprised me. Financially, I’m not doing brilliantly, but I didn’t think things were that bad. To describe myself as “on the edge of poverty” feels, to me, a little like glory hunting. In the grand scheme of things, life’s just not that bad. I suppose “on the edge” means if the slightest thing goes wrong (or the “accidental” third baby makes an appearance), I could be in serious trouble, and that’s possibly true. But hey, let’s not get all dramatic about it just yet. What would be the point? After all, things could be about to change for the better. Continue reading