March of the Feminist Bullies
First of all, let me just say that I do not intend to resign on account of what I am about to say. Or issue a grovelling apology, or cry in the loos.
So if you’re a touchy ‘feminazi’ with the sense of humour of a Ryvita, or just one of those weird people who like getting in a massive lather about things, save your spittle. If, that is, you have any left. Because you did it, ladies. You got your man. Sir Tim Hunt, 72, Nobel Prize winner, one of Britain’s top scientists last night resigned.
No doubt it will be extra helpings of organic non-GM muesli all round at breakfast this morning now that this scourge has been banished from scientific circles. After all, men like him can’t be allowed to go around the place making giant scientific breakthroughs of the kind that may one day lead to, oh I don’t know, a cure for cancer, unless and until they have fully submitted to the will of the mob.
Heaven forfend that an old fellow like Hunt should try to make a bit of a joke about the ladies and his own inability to resist their charms without being tarred and feathered and locked in the stocks so that he, too, like many before him, can receive his 15 minutes of hate.
It’s days like these that I despair of my sex. Of the stupid, pampered, spoilt women who have nothing better to do with their lives than whinge and whine about utterly trivial items of entirely innocuous cack-handedness by slightly inept men who have no intention whatsoever of offending the Sisterhood, but who, entirely by accident, end up getting it in the neck.
Girls, ladies, women — or whatever it is you’re calling yourselves these days: I hope you’re proud of yourselves.
After all, it’s not as if there are any other injustices towards women to worry about. No Islamic state militants raping 12-year-old girls in Syria, no sex slavery in India, no female genital mutilation here. Oh no. Nothing like that to busy ourselves with.
All that stuff pales into insignificance when you consider the crimes of Professor Hunt.
Which, when you boil it down amount to the following:
1. He made a joke.
2. There were some women in it.
3. It was actually a bit funny and self-deprecating.
I know, I know. For a clever man, that was a spectacularly stupid thing to do.
‘Let me tell you about my trouble with girls,’ said Sir Tim, who’d been invited to address his female South Korean hosts over lunch. ‘Three things happen when girls are in the lab — you fall in love with them, they fall in love with you, and when you criticise them, they cry.’
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