50 Shades of Domestic Abuse

Well, its out now, isn't it. Fifty Shades of Grey. We've had the book, we've got the film, what next? The multi-positional Ana and Christian dolls complete with rolls of gaffer (not gaffa) tape and cable ties?

I have a huge problem with Fifty Shades, in fact I have quite a few, not least the fact the the book is probably one of the worst written piles of doggy do that I have ever read and clearly written by a repressed, middle aged, Middle England, middle class women for other repressed, middle aged, Middle England, middle class women. It coined the phase 'mummy porn'; porn that was suitable for mummies who hadn't had sex since the birth of Little Jonny some years before. Suddenly it became okay to read 'porn' on the train, on the bus, on the beach.

But this is porn of the worst variety because it packages up sexual violence against women as a very thinly veiled love story.  Let's be clear. This is not a love story. This is a story about an older man using his wealth and power to corrupt a young virgin (she'd have to be a virgin wouldn't she), to subjugate her and coerce her into performing acts that she would not otherwise have done. It is not a voyage around the sexual awakening of a young woman or any other such rubbish. It is a film, written and directed by women, that advocates sexual violence against women. So much for the sisterhood. It is not about BDSM. It is about a middle class, middle aged, Middle England woman's totally false view of BDSM. BDSM is consensual. It doesn't require coercion. The BDSM community are very unhappy about how they are portrayed and rightly so.

Fifty Shades is not a harmless little love story with a bit of naughtiness thrown in. It is a story about control,  coercion, rape, stalking and sexual assault. What does that add up to? Domestic abuse. Fifty Shades is a story that glorifies domestic abuse against women. No more, no less. Every woman and man that goes into the cinema and watches this is condoning domestic abuse. Every penny spent on the book, the e-book and the film goes to a women who condones domestic abuse for her own profit. For someone who has worked on serious case reviews into domestic homicide, this makes me feel sick. Is it an wonder that so many quality actresses wouldn't touch it with a bargepole?

It may sound harsh but look at the facts of the film. Would you accept someone turning up to your workplace unannounced, following you on a night out, letting themselves into your home without your permission? Is the correct response to the admission of virginity a violent act of rape? Is coercion the same as consent?

Most young people already find out about sex from the plethora of porn that is easily accessible giving them a totally unrealistic view.  Sex is that thing where men have huge penises and can keep going for hours and women just mewl in a horribly kittenish way while having multiple orgasms.  The last thing we need is this saccharined version of the 'virgin gets a rough f*ck' you can find on any 'PornRUs' website. This film tries to make domestic abuse acceptable. It is a terrible lesson to our children and one that they will access with even more ease than 'Hot High School Sluts'.

In my work I see the sharp end of domestic abuse and everyday sexism. Feminist has become a pejorative term.  I support the No More Page 3 campaign and you only have to read the comments made by men on their Facebook page to understand that respect for women has an awful long way to go.  Women have fought for over a century for equality of opportunity, to be treated as equal citizens, as human beings rather than the chattels of men. When I see how many young men in their late teens and early twenties are involved in domestic abuse, quite frankly I wonder what the point has been.

When the 'hottest movie release of the year' is a film that glorifies and glamourises control, coercion and sexual violence while at the same time normalising a powerful man's domination and subjugation of a naive young woman I wonder if we have moved on at all.

And before you start saying its only a bit of harmless fun I would suggest you do a little reading around the subject. Find out how often porn and the sort of everyday sexism depicted in Fifty Shades is a factor in sexual assaults. You might be surprised.

On a slightly lighter note, should you feel the need to handcuff (with consent) your significant other to the bed and gaffer tape his/her mouth, just be aware that when you pull it off you will get the mother of all lip waxes. Be warned.

And finally, to all those of my friends who have seen Fifty Shades, quite frankly, I'm disappointed in you. I thought you were better than that.

An Evening with Il Divo...or How Can Four Blokes (and one small woman) Make So Much Noise?

Last week I had a very last minute opportunity to go and see Il Divo when a friend who had tickets found herself suddenly unable to go. I left work and hotfooted it down to the Bournemouth International Centre in a real pea souper to listen to four blokes singing classical music - or, as it turned out, musical theatre.

I like Il Divo. I like any many who can hold a tune to be honest. The way to a man's heart may be through his stomach but the way to mine is definitely through a beautifully rendered song.  I signed the Marriage Register to the sounds of Il Divo singing Unbreak My Heart and we all know how that ended so perhaps I should have stayed well away but anyway, ticket in my hot little hand, I sprinted up the steps to the Circle, arriving half way through the first song so I had to wait at the entrance until there was a suitable break in the music.

The sound was amazing. You know that expression? A wall of sound. That was what it was.  I could feel it in my kidneys.

It wasn't until I was shown to my seat that I became aware that I was definitely one of the younger members of the audience. I was surrounded by a sea of grey heads interspersed with bald ones - those being the long suffering husbands who had been dragged along, clearly under duress from the body language of a few. I've never been to  concert where there were so many walking sticks!

By the third song I realised that an evening with Il Divo was not going to be exactly what I thought. I don't suppose I have ever really thought about the demographics of their fans, there being far more important issues to ponder, generally speaking.  The fact that that I bought my mother one of their CDs for her birthday should probably have been a little pointer.

The audience were, by and large, femmes d'un certain age who, for one night only, were transported back to their young, horny youth. By the third song I realised that these guys could fart in a bathtub and get a standing ovation.

The evening was rife with sexual innuendo of the sort that made women of their generation giggle like school girls and women of mine cringe ever so slightly.  Carlos, the Spanish one with the fabulous voice, seemed to spend much of the evening talking about 'making lurve' to these beautiful women. I only hope he wasn't around when the house lights went up!

Still, in the more upbeat numbers, it was good to see the 'femmes' cast off their walking sticks, like Lazarus rising from the dead, and shake their booty in the aisles. Go girls!

The music was amazing and had the added bonus of Lea Salonga, who I first saw in Miss Saigon when dinosaurs still walked the earth.  Anyone who has seen Les Mis will probably have seen Lea as she has played both Eponine and Fantine.  She's also teeny tiny but with a voice that could take the roof off.

What was quite nice to see was the lack of phones held in the air to film the concert. Clearly this sort of this was Not Acceptable judging from the glares I got from the lady next to me any time I tried, hence the rather fuzzy photo. However, at the intermission I was very impressed at the number who whipped out their phones and posted status updates on Facebook.

Whatever you feel about Il Divo, you can't ignore the fact that their harmonies are beautiful, making the hair on the back of your neck stand up and I'll be honest and say there were a few teary moments for me but for me the beauty of the evening was watching all these 'laydees' behaving really rather badly. I never expected to find myself in a situation where women only slightly younger than my mother were shouting out some really quite bawdy stuff to some hot young men. I'm sure when they started out they had visions of young women mobbing them at the stage door. I think a day in the life of an Il Divo groupie is more likely to involve a trip to the arthritis clinic than hot sex in a hotel room - although I think a few of them would have happily given it a go, pacemakers and artificial hips permitting.

As a lesson it growing old disgracefully, it was spot on. Femmes d'un certain age, I take my hat off to you!