Defending the Cunt

The feminists' chagrin at this expletive is far too often verbally manifested for my liking and I intend here to outline how their vilification of this humble lexeme is, most often, a complete non-argument.

One of the justifications for their disdain that is flippantly bandied about is that 'cunt' undermines the female gender. This is not only ludicrous and poorly-justified, but contemptably patronising. This argument may, on the surface, seem to be a defence of women's rights, but falters under closer inspection, and in fact demonstrates a misogyny that far outweighs the chauvenism they claim inherant to the use of the word.

For starters I would take issue with any offence taken at the use of an expletive.

Firstly, it does not demonstrate a poor vocabulary. to say that it is is to imply that the size of an individual's word-bank and their use of swear words is linked, and there is nothing to suggest that this is the case. Certainly, some people have a small vocabulary and swear a great deal, but some have a small vocabulary and seldom swear. Some of the most verbose of my friends swear a great deal. It is quite clear to anyone who takes the time to consider the relation between vocabulary and frequency of profanity that the two are completely incidental.

Secondly, it is often argued that swearing is unnecessary. This is true but since when did that affect anything? Plenty of things have no use whatsoever and yet we take pleasure in their existence. Their superfluity is the entirity of their charm.

Thirdly, the desire to oppress those who swear is not only an infringement of their right to free speech, but also their liberty. When viewed in the context of the world in which we live, swearing provides no justification for offence, unless everything more disgusting is reviled in equal measure. He who does not then condemn all war, religious oppression and all forms of abuse is then rendered a hypocrite. If someone vituperates 'foul' language then they are morally obliged to spend a relative deal of time polemicising against atrocities that far outweight the insignificant and victimless crime of using a word.

However, when it comes to 'cunt' the animosity is staggering. It is argued (with great vehemence, I should add) that the use of the word is degrading to women. A non-sequitor of the highest degree! Yes, it is a noun meaning vagina, but we are adults! We can discuss vaginas without needing to get embarrassed or ashamed, and, as I have elucidated the reasons for swearing being unoffensive, we need not see the words 'vagina' and 'cunt' as anything other than mere synonyms.

Also, if we do not see the words 'dick' and 'cock' degrading to men then we are vieiwing women as somehow more fragile to say that their sex can be undermined by 'cunt'.

Of course, there are those that will argue that cunt is a stronger word, but I see no reason why it should be. True, society does view it as stronger than its fellow expletives, but surely this reflects on society's apprehension regarding the female genitals, rather than any offensiveness inherant to the word.

It strikes me as obvious that the offense is not to be found in the word but in the context of its use. It is obviously offensive to go up to a stranger and ask to 'lick out their cunt'. However, this is not because of the word-choice, but rather the inappropriateness of the sentiment, the use of the expletive rendering the phrase more aggressive. However, asking a man if you can 'suck his cock' is equally offensive in sentiment. To say is it not is surely to patronise women at large.

I argue full-throatedly that any time where you could say 'vagina' in an informal setting you could substitute 'cunt' without being morally reprehensible. Those who find the word makes them uncomfortable as a matter of personal taste deserve to have this respected, just as someone who hates the sound of the word 'moist' (I know many) should be allowed freedom from hearing it where avoidable. However, to make an honest argument they must state that this revulsion is due to personal taste, and to glibly throw arguments of 'feminism' around which are clearly unjustified is to undermine the whole femenist cause.


Government Panders to Mephedrone Hysteria

So there we have it! The government is finally going to make mephedrone illegal due to the outcry of people who think they know something about it from reading a few articles in the Sun.

Of course, while it will mean that the drug is harder to acquire and more expensive and therefore less people will take it, it won't solve the problem. It only means that the drug will hit the streets resulting in a form diluted heavily with God-knows-what. Besides, given time, interest in the drug will subside.

We must also look at the incidences of deaths resulting from the drug. In all cases it was mixed with alcohol, which is a definite mistake. Some might think it wrong of me to criticise the dead, but in order to seriously debate the issue we cannot get sentimental. Naturally, the families and friends of those who have died will want the drug banned, but they missing the point that making it illegal will only make the problem worse. It is the responsibility of those who take a substance to research it as thoroughly as they can. A fundamental rule with drugs is DO NOT TAKE THEM AND GET WASTED. This is especially important with something we know so little about, such as m-cat. However, some people will not do their research and end up either hospitalised or worse but we cannot suppose that the whole of the drug-taking community operates similarly.

To say that these deaths accurately reflect the dangers of mephedrone is a complete non-sequitor: they represent the fraction of the community that have been least responsible.

This is just another instance of the government pandering to mass hysteria. They cannot be unaware of how the situation will worsen if the substance is banned (see article), and yet they must be seen to be doing something, especially in light of the upcoming elections. This is a clear case of self-interest masquerading as altruism and is one of the most damaging things a government can inflict on its people.

If the government did not act, however, it would be allowing the legal sale of a substance stronger and more dangerous than other drugs that are illegal, and would be massively hypocritical.

The problem is the whole stance our government takes on drugs. It doesn't act in the interests of the country, but rather in the interest of its image. It's paltry excuse for an information website FRANK is a laughing stock among drug-users, who recognise its clear bias and lack of research. It is the government's duty to provide accurate and unbiased information about drugs as people are always going to take them.

The slogan 'Mixing drugs with alcohol can be highly dangerous' is one that would make far more impact than 'kids, don't do drugs'.

While I think this drug can be dangerous and addictive, it is not as huge a problem as conveyed by the press, but due to people's blind faith in the media we are now bombarded with people who think they know something about the problem and deserve a voice in the debate. I'm sorry, you don't. Do some research and make an intelligent and individual point or shut up.

And one final point: please, newspaers, stop calling it 'Meow Meow'; nobody calls it that, and they especially don't spell it 'Miaow'.


On the power of the thespian's voice.

As a playwright I am deeply interested in the power that actors hold over us. To be a star in Hollywood is to be a star all over the world. You would be hard pressed to find someone in this country who does not know the names Tom Cruise, Jude Law, or Johnny Depp. These mere mortals are raised to the height of gods on the podia of smash-hit movies, and I myself find several actors on my list of admirable people.

I think that one of the reasons I am so drawn to writing plays is the thrill of a live performance, and my characters are completely at the mercy of the actors who play them. When I am writing the characters develop their own distinct voices in my mind, and as I spend most of my time writing the dialogue (where a novelist has to fashion whole worlds and images) these voices are my only medium for communicating to an audience. Of course, there will be sets, costumes, lighting, make-up and so on, but once you have established a visual style in the script it is then left in the hands of the directors and designers. To me, a play is the dialogue in it.

And the actors I admire: Alan Rickman, Ian McKellen, Patrick Stewart, Bill Nighy, and others, are united in one area: their voices.

A great actor can be recognised solely from one word of dialogue. He can draw in an audience from the simplest line. 'What time do you call this?' is a line that could be said hundreds of ways. It is a simple, commonplace sentence. But in the throat of a fine actor these words can convey a character's history, his attitudes, his state of mind. From Alan Rickman's smooth melismatic drawl to Patrick Stewarts from-the-diaphragm style, each lexeme is a luxurious palace that the actor inhabits, and displays to an awed audience.

And there is something unusual in the way these actors speak, especially in the case of Rickman, that is both strange, intriguing, and fascinating. When Rickman says a line it is with a stress and melody that I could never have imagined. And it gives life to even the dullest line. I opine that Rickman could make even the most uninteresting play spring with new life.

So, in writing my most recent play 'Plato Lays Weeping' (I realise the gramatical error, but it is for the effect of a PUN!) I was dominated by the sounds of the human voice and its sheer possibilities, and when we cast it I will be seeking a voice to raise the hairs on the back of my neck!


Idiocracy: an unlikely future, or a disturbingly real present?

For those of you have seen the film 'Idiocracy', I need not explain. For those of you that have not, go and watch it or read a plot summary: I don't have time to relay the whole damn film to you.

Anyway, the plot in a nutshell is that it's the 26th century and only the stupid have bred so everyone on the planet makes Fern Cotton look like Leonardo Da Vinci.

While this may seem a harrowing possibility, you have to ask: aren't we already there? It is the belief of this house (more of a flat now I've been going to the gym) that we currently live in such an intellectual dystopia.

I don't want to bang on about the 'decline of language' or 'the effects of television on today's youth' or any other such Points of View whiny bullshit. The point is: people are stupid.

Of course, I do not refer to you, most eloquent and firm-buttocked reader, but merely everyone else that pollutes our daily lives with their Jesus placards, Jesus sandals, or 'Jesus what do you mean I gave you the wrong change?' Basically, anything prefixed by Jesus is a pain in the proverbial.

But look around you. You are probably surrounded by people who think that chemicals are bad in your food (although everything is a chemical and it's precisely chemical reactions in our body that stop us from dying. Of course, some chemicals are bad but... you get the idea.) There's probably someone in your building right now listening to Alexandra Burke, or other children's music. You may even be unlucky enough to know someone who thought 'Mr. Bean's Holiday' was a cinematic triumph.

I have met people who haven't heard of Stephen Fry, some who cannot understand a word if it isn't written phonetically, and others who think that making small talk with strangers about the build of pigeons is a demonstration of articulate social interaction. I should add that it is not.

At its lowest level, small talk is the type of everyday stupidity that we are supposed to tolerate. While small talk may be useful with a close friend to get the conversation going, surely if you have something to say then you should open with that. It's no good saying "nice weather, isn't it? Oh, by the way, that result came back positive you're going to want to get yourself checked out." And, also, when is "I went out today and saw a man get hit by a lorry and it took hours to get his brain out of my hair" inferior to chit-chat about the traffic?

Naturally, being British, we all have an urge to talk all the time, as though any lapse in conversation reflects badly on our penis-size, but it doesn't. Silence is awkward, but infinitely superior to conversations you've had a million times before. We all bemoan the adverts for forcing us to watch them over and over, yet we positively welcome it in conversation.

So, I would recommend if someone says 'nice weather, isn't it?', rather than responding 'yes, very' you answer the question with something interesting but irrelevant. After all, if you are doing an exam in Geography and it asks you about China but you only know about France, you start your answer 'China is not like France in that...' Do it; it's interesting, fun, and you might just get some stimulating conversation from it. When someone makes the gambit "it's a nice day, isn't it?" why not answer "I've not noticed; I had sex on ecstasy last night and it could piss it down and I would still be beaming."

Even with friends: don't chit-chat! Enrich one another with the gems of knowledge you have picked up. Or, if you are blessed with a particularly sharp mind why not replace sensible converation with wit? Hours can be spent between friends just revelling in the delicious wordplay and sardonic interplay that can occur in a relaxed environment when you light a scented candle.

To move up the ladder of stupidity we must look at the kind of jaw-dropping ignorance that could make even Katie Price shit herself with shock. These instances are rare, granted, but do not happen as seldom as we might be persuaded into believing by such newspapers as the Times. Yuppie culture, for instance, is a microcosm of ignorance. The rushing Londoner with his hard-edged briefcase can be a stunningly obtuse creation. So I have devised a game. It is called 'Yuppie Stalling' and the aim of the game is to slow down your chosen yuppie. This can be done simply by walking slowly in front of him, by dropping things in his path, or by walking in a group of three down a narrow street just ahead of said yuppie.

However capitalist and nauseating yuppie-culture is, nothing takes gold for stupidity but Religion.

Organised religion is a horror to behold. We are contantly being told that God is somewhere waiting for us to find him. Well, excuse me if I don't have time for hide and seek, but if I can't be arsed to look for that pound that I dropped behind the sofa, God may be waiting a little while. Also, when you have a body like mine it is surely blasphemy to say that God made us in his image, and, if you look at the face of the late Jade Goody, such a claim will probably land you an eternity in a lake of fire.

Personal belief has to be tolerated in order for us to be free and flourishing people, but Religion en masse (excuse the pun) spreads arrogant claims of knowledge about the afterlife, a moral superiority complex, and an intolerance to the beliefs and lifestyles of others.

You may, by some miracle (which is more likely coincidence), survived thus far without encountering such people. You may have grown up in an intellectual but bohemian hothouse of culture and drugs. But you will see. Even in the most rudimentary interactions we are doomed to suffer the substandard intellects of others. From those that simply do not know, to (worse) those that just don't want to know, they are everywhere. Some people can apply themselves to certain tasks and acquire quite a mass of qualifications but be the most insufferably moronic lumps of flesh. Some people cannot think unless it is requested of them. Some people will break into your flat just to switch off an alarm, or make comments that are neither amusing nor beneficial to anyone, or tut at you on a tram for not giving up your seat even though you got there first, or make mountains out of molehills when you don't wash a plate. And there are some people that think it is funny to laugh at people who are different.

However, fear ye not. There is a solution. Cut them out. Do not talk to them, don't smile at them, don't ask them round for coffee. Be polite, be courteous, put them down when they get too pompous, and leave it there. We don't have long to live, so why waste this precious time on the unworthy? Drink life to the lees, spit out the dickheads, and have a blast. After all, a night in with a good record, a strong cup of Masala tea, and the last few chapters of some glittering, gistening, and even gistering novel is far favourable to a night with a wanker.

Of course, the pinnacle of happiness can be found in the company of a person (or persons) that is never dull, nor witless, nor rude, but rather an opulant personality with interesting trivia longing to be gleaned, delectable foils of wit waiting to pierce the starched shirt-front of your humour, and wide-eyed, breathtaking observations that will make you curl your toes in pleasure. Most people are cunts, get used to it and start living life.