Breast in Peace
Eeeek! Or, for that matter, even, ‘Erk!’ Once again my sang froid, or my ‘Inner Peace’, or my semi-comatose ‘Samsara’, or some bloody thing, has been blown to hell and back again by that ‘MoMstrous regiment of Wimmin’, with apologies to that old paedo, John Knox. There I was, fresh from my utterly crushing victory over the Forces of Darkness, aka The Daily Telegraph Crossword, bathed in an aura of uber-smugness, when, Bam! My Sea of Tranquility was blown out of the water by a series of Fun Sacks leaping off the page, each pair with a bratlet attached. Urrgghhhh! Surely these things ought to carry a Government Health Warning? I mean; like any sensitive aesthete, one is not above appreciating the sheer beauty of a pert breast or two attached to an agreeable blonde; a la Fragonard, or Russell Flint. Even the current rash of talentless female croonettes can at least help the listener mitigate the puerile musical mewlings, by taking their mind off the noise with the odd flash of tit. But this was an article about the right to frighten poor defenceless males into a state of terminal decline by the wanton flaunting of bratlet-infested boobs in pubic! Sorry, ‘public’.
War of the Worlds
Apparently, some birds have even started sending photographs of themselves in flagrante di titto on to that E-Mail, Web thingy, ‘FaceBoob’ or somesuch. “Brelfies’, which I am reliably informed are just like ‘Selfies’ except that the sender is making an even bigger tit of themselves than usual. I mean, there’s a time and a place for everything. And the centre page of an esteemed organ like ‘The Torygraph’ ain’t one of them. Surely common decency requires the suckling of the issue to be carried out in private? When such events take place between consenting adults it certainly does have to be in private unless one wishes to fall foul of the law, and/or husband. What is worserer still, it would seem that, a) some females have written books about the subject; b) some publishers have been mad enough to print it, and c) some people have actually gone out and bought the bloody things! All wimmin, obviously. So in a lot of ways it doesn’t really count; just like quite a few women when they’re on a shopping spree, yes? But it would appear that ‘Breast-feeding’ has become ‘a Global Phenomenon’… Geddit? Suit yourself.
The Milk of Woman Kindness
Naturally, a fear uppermost in men’s minds must be that if this is allowed to go unchallenged, it will become a Trojan Horse for even more outrageous demands. Like having to tidy up after yourself. Being polite about their cooking. Lying about the relationship between their bums and the poor defenceless size sixteen dress. Saying nothing when they try to reverse round a corner. Waxing lyrical about Thomas Hardy. At this rate they might even get the vote! The best solution for all concerned is for both sides to make concessions. Yes, if so driven, the gender with the smaller brain can go about flashing their mammeries before an unsuspecting public; subject to certain civilised constraints. No wrinkles, no dribbles, no stretch marks, no pendulous megaboobs. Problem solved. Oh; a word of advice to the genius who came up with the device ‘Breast is best’. It sounds like an ad for roast chicken; although, of course, quite few of us like the legs as well…
Copyright. John J McCabe.