But I digress.
The item that caught my attention was the one about
the 17% increase in cosmetic surgery (since the previous year). Sorry – that
should be Aesthetic Enhancement
Procedures. This may be to do with the canny trick extreme Capitalism has
of normalising the abnormal if it makes a profit. That in itself is dark. Also
it seems to reflect the successful campaign waged by the media in
commercialising the human body. But – and I would argue this is the worst – it demonstrates
the complete victory of the cosmetics industry over common sense. Vested
interest has fuelled and then cashed in on the low self-esteem of women and girls
more efficiently than ever before. As soon as girls are old enough to
understand about their bodies, it seems, they are made to feel insecure about
them – and there is money in that.
Many who go under the knife are also under the
impression that the ‘alteration’ will improve the way they feel about themselves.
That is the basis of many advertisements for cosmetic surgery clinics. Such
claims by the beauty butchers and belief by the ‘victims’ is often false – or
if true – short-lived. Evidence shows that if someone believes their life will
be better if only they are a size D rather than an A and then the magic doesn’t
happen – they will actually feel worse. Sometimes they then get hooked on
surgery going from one procedure to another in search of that elusive feel-good
effect – a win/win for the nasty nippers.
The top ops were boob jobs, face lifts and eye-skin
surgery.
In trying to think how to respond to this depressing
piece of news I hark back to my first pavement performance at the Edinburgh
Fringe. Under a tree outside Saint Giles Cathedral stood the dozen or so folk
who braved the torrential summer rain of 2010 while I performed without cover
(yes – maybe it should be re-named Saint Amanda’s). I had to explain, as there
were Americans in the audience, that in Britain a fanny is a fanny not a bottom but then we were away.
Now for any of you who shrivel at the notion of poetry – fear not - it’s just a
lightweight humorous piece in simple rhyme form – so calm down.
AAArrrghhhh!
There’s
hair on her fanny and her underarms
She’s
too tall /short / thin / fat, devoid of all charms
Should
her knickers be bikini or shorts or a thong
She
can’t make her eyelashes look three feet long
That
hair has a kink - it’s meant to be straight
Or
was all that last month – she’s so out of date
There
are so many bits that she hates
Flesh
is supposed to be always revealed
She
needs to be plucked shaved sandpapered and peeled
Half
an ounce over the magazine size
She’ll
feel like a heifer that’s up for a prize
What
are the rules who cooked them up?
Who
made this poisoned chalice this half empty cup
From
which us saps sup
Should
she go Jordan - tits tell-tale and tarty
Skeletal
doll posh Becks or Vorderman smarty
Get
muscles like Madonna or do glam/trash Cole Tweedy
Or
go the whole Katona mad sad and needy
YES
–
She’ll
zombify her face with Botox, inflate her boobs with plastic
Be
the gormless, simpering, pouting, fluttering, tottering, dieting, ideal
Then
she’ll be
FANTASTIC
As for the ‘musical’ element – worry not
– there is no hairy fanny musical (as yet [as far as I know]). ‘Musical’ refers
to my mate Aiadan Clarke’s Hot Words
event that is happening at Blakes (opposite The Theatre Royal) in Newcastle
this Thursday at 7pm – at which I will contribute a little comedy support set.
World Wide Wait is an epic poetic piece with musical interludes from the fab Joe Moody. The
talented Mr. Clarke will lead his Galahad on a crazy geographic and
spiritual journey across time and space. In 21st Century homage to
T.S. Eliot’s Waste Land, World Wide Wait will definitely be
another welcome antidote to our X-factor culture.