Firstly, I hate the columns in the London Paper. You are not a writer because you think you’ve made some genius point about something stupid that no one outside London cares about anyway. You can’t write. You’re not funny. You're a stereotype. But you have ENRAGED me, thus, I will reply here, on my own terms, in my fantabulous blog.
Yesterday one of the readers wrote a lazy column about the so-awful-it-must-be-stopped-before-someone-dies INJUSTICE of people putting make up on on the tube. Except of course it’s not ‘people’ who do that, it’s women. A woman hating on other women! Well I never, what a shock. Women deal in misogyny so beautifully these days that we hardly need men to do it for us.
Apart from the fact the column is badly-written (that’s a given), I do not understand the complaint. I literally cannot understand it whatsoever. Talk of ‘modesty’ is a cloak for oppression as far as I’m concerned. This dimwit compares putting on make up to ‘cleaning your teeth’ on the tube. I’d like to see you try it, darling. (Ooh I came over all Littlejohn then, pet!) ‘Bulging make up bags!’ Whatever next? Bulging rucksacks full of bombs would be preferably, presumably. Also, ‘like wildfire’ is the laziest description ever. Don't even ATTEMPT to write if this is the kind of crap you are going to churn out.
If anything, I actually think I should be COMMENDED for putting my make up on on the tube. I’d like to see you do liquid eyeliner in the exact five seconds the train becomes stationary. In fact, I think it’s sexy when I see women putting make up on on the tube. I think they look cool, and it’s fascinating to see people’s routines. If you’re being ‘subjected to it’; try looking at something else. Read a book, you idiot. You don’t need to worry about me poking my eye out; I do this every morning, just to annoy clucking bores like you.
Things I don’t like to look at on the tube; other people’s armpits, babies, people kissing, people picking their nose, people eating KFC, JKFC and PFC, sanctimonious people tutting at someone putting a bit of lipstick on, people reading their papers on someone else’s back, people turning up their shit RnB music on their crappy mp3 players. Do you hear me complaining? Yes you do, but only because you have driven me to it!
I don’t WANT to get up early to put make up on. I want to stay in bed for five minutes longer. What kind of sadist wants to get out of bed in the mornings? I hate waiting at platforms, so if I can do my mascara whilst you stand there like a numpty fretting about how you’re going to squeeze into the next carriage, who wins? I got up late, and I’m filling in time, not getting stressed. I'm also small enough to fit into that tiny gap in front of you. Sweet.
As for the point that we are ‘ruining the illusion’, oh dear; are you the type of person who won’t let your boyfriend see you without make up on? Feminism lives! Sex with the lights off, is it?It’s not an illusion in my case, I don’t wipe my make up off at night and turn into a gargoyle, I don’t trowel it on to hide something. It’s merely a quick, painless enhancement.
‘White wine spritzers’- somebody shoot me. Also that last paragraph makes no sense either. Who are you, Bridget Jones?
I admit this is a particular hot topic of mine at the moment; I recently had a row on a messageboard about it (yeah, I don’t get out much, because people like the person who wrote this column are everywhere)! Morrissey, on one of his many underrated b-sides, sang ‘If you don’t like me, don’t look at me. There must be somebody else who can take your gaze away.’ And I couldn’t agree more. Look at some braindead bloke instead. You'll still be getting off alone because you're uptight and annoying.