“CAN I smell your fanny?” That is what was said to me at Tiger Tiger one memorable Monday. As I reeled back in obvious horror this boy (his name has been retained for obvious humiliation reasons) had the cheek not to pinch my arse; not to make an obscene gesture; worse - to ask it again. What was he honestly expecting? For me to lift up my skirt and inevitably slur “come and have a go if you think you’re hard enough!”?
It’s the same concept with ‘white van’ drivers and their notorious honking. All they’re achieving is making me feel slightly dirty, particularly when it’s from some pre-pubescent, skinhead chav sat next to his overweight father, balancing his belly on his wheel and blowing me ‘burger sauce’ kisses. No thank you. I would love for men to enlighten me on this behaviour; there must be some explanation for this delirious thinking.
I would like to make it very clear that I am talking about some men, not all. Admittedly they seem to be everywhere but I am only referring to the backend of the male species. Most of the men I meet are genuine and great, however it’s always the ‘get your rat out’ crew that stick in your mind. Unfortunately the words ‘bad’, ‘egg’, ‘rotten’ and ‘bunch’ spring to mind.
Behaviour like this, in my opinion, comes hand in hand with urinating in the street. Having asked my male friends about this they claim it is purely alcohol-fuelled. If this is the case, what is it about alcohol, particularly lager (particularly Carling), that quickly destroys all inhibitions and notions of common decency that should be embedded in all of us by now? Of course we all know the feeling when you are completely unaware of what people think of you. Girls suffer from this delusion when they think they are sexy dancers after a few doubles and can see, from pictures the following morning, that they are definitely not (guilty, unfortunately). But this is about as far as we go. So what’s so different with men? It’s the, hugely unattractive, Carling syndrome.
I managed to walk through Fallowfield on another Monday night (I’m a second year staying in on a Monday night. I am officially getting old, bloody Freshers) and in doing so had to dodge the spray-back of five different men’s urine. It was like a warped, hugely violating peepshow. Don’t get me wrong; women do it too. I can, unashamedly, admit that I have slipped down an alley en route to M-Two. But here is the difference: I went down an alley, not in a bus shelter or, even worse, a phonebox. I would just love to understand why some men think this is OK, just like they think it is acceptable to chant, “get your tits out for the lads!” on the top of the Magic Bus.
But maybe some girls ask for it. Clip-clopping around in their five-inch heels and little white hot pants, no tights; you know the type - otherwise known as the ‘Tit Brigade’. Perhaps some girls respond well to the constant leering and this has led to the confusion. If this is the case then I’d like to shake them out of their intense wine goggles and explain that they are ruining night-time bus journeys for the rest of the female student population.
Whatever happened to the gentlemen holding the door open for you, remaining dignified at all times and tipping their top hat at you? I know how we harp on about how women should be treated the same as men (and we should) but I miss the gentlemen. Where have they gone? Did they die out with the sheltered bus stop? I truly believe that, given the choice, most women would prefer an intelligent gentleman over a slightly overweight boy inhaling pints (just something to think about boys). Unfortunately this choice seems to be as rare as the gentlemen themselves.
But occasionally, despite all my efforts, I think that some men will never learn. On leaving Tiger Tiger that unforgettable evening some leering, drunken Man Met boy slumped in the corner sneered at me, “Get your minge out.” Yeah, like that’s going to happen.
letters@student-direct.co.uk
what horrifies me is that the 'leering incidents' don't just happen to girls when the lads are drunk. when lads the age of young adults screech: 'yo! indonesian biaaaaaaach! shake your arse!' in mid afternoon across the road, you really dunno where to start if you were to correct them. (in my head, beat their arse across the street, 'ain't indonesian, am asian' 'skinny jeans and high boots are all around, ain't no whore' 'seriously, not gonna strip for you, that would be paedophilia.............'
I started reading this article with a great sense of relief that I was not alone in my thoughts that this usage of obscene language by leery lad-types is truly worrying not only for its sheer vulgarity but because they must somewhere in their lager-fueled little brains believe that comments such as 'Can I smell your fanny?' will recieve a positive response, and indeed has recieved a positive response on a previous occasion(s). The author did unfortunately appear to contradict herself by admitting to less than admirable activites such as urinating in a alleyway - but defending them by saying that her acts weren't as bad, which just seemed a little disingenous - creating some kind of continuum of acceptable behaviour, when I was hoping for a true criticism of lecherous behaviour and a real questioning as to why it is so prevalent (alcohol is too easy an alibi - I have encountered people that are crude at all times of day and fully sober). And as for the death of gentlemen - their demise happened at the same time women decided to stop being ladies.
To be honest Caroline I think most ladies – and yes I will say ladies – have taken the quick ‘skirt-up, pants-down’ piss down an alley before and I do not believe said author was really contradicting herself. Come on, we need to cut a bit of slack for the ‘oh bugger that was rather embarrassing’ drunken behaviour we are all capable of committing. That’s life. I think what old Chappers is saying, and very well said, is that there really is a need for limits – please – simply in order to save shoes from splashback (it’s not like we can afford to fork out for a decent clean). Okay so down an alley isn’t particularly classy (I’ve been there, I like to re-visit as little as possible) but dire straits call for dire actions. Nevertheless not even attempting to hide it, in fact, literally marking your spot as if your penis is a spray can and you’re getting a little ‘tag-happy’ is just wrong. And as for ‘get your rat outttttt’ – a phrase I last heard emanating from a tent at Glastonbury – some blokes just don’t have a clue do they!!!!