Sexual slurs against women are no laughing matter

http://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2014/jan/11/charlie-vernon-sexual-harassment

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Some of you may have heard about TV presenter Charlie Vernon, who was broadcasting on shopping channel Gems TV, when, via her earpiece, a male colleague called her a "fucking big whore" and a "big bitch". Eventually, Vernon gave him the finger, which was seen by viewers (she says that she did not realise she was still on air). Vernon was sacked and ended up turning to a tribunal, where she lost her case for unfair dismissal but won for sexual harassment.

Vernon said: "There's always the odd distraction joke during transmission among the camera crews, but it's usually innocent and friendly." She was upset by the crude language, which sounds understandable, not to mention familiar to many women who find themselves fending off such "banter". Why is it some men still think that insulting women sexually is a great way, indeed the only way, of finding out if they have a sense of humour?

This isn't a straightforward PC issue. Certainly, there's nothing wrong with colleagues mentally jousting, trading insults, even being completely inappropriate. (If there is, regarding my past behaviour, there's a doghouse with my name on it.) In many instances, attempts at Ron Burgundy style-behaviour could be judged as nothing more sinister than misplaced irony.

All this is different to what could be termed the dark side of banter, not just in the workplace but socially too. Women may recognise the phenomenon where routine repartee, occurring anywhere from a drunken night in a bar to stone cold sober in an office takes on an aggressive, sexually offensive nature.

Suddenly, the woman is a bitch, slag, "ho" or variant thereof. Her sex life is either alluded to or brazenly dissected, with suggestions as to what she might be prepared to do and/or have done to her.

If the woman doesn't laugh it off, she's judged to be uptight, as if smiling along with such sleaze were some kind of important unofficial test women must pass to demonstrate that they are "clubbable".

It would seem that for some men, bantering about sex and smut, on the man's own terms, is how a woman proves that she has got a great sense of humour. Nothing else will do.

But all too often, this kind of behaviour has nothing whatsoever to do with humour or even sex and flirtation. In common with other forms of blatant harassment, it is about power and control, under the spurious guise of "lighthearted banter". The objective seems to be to make the woman question her own reactions, to plunge her into a dilemma of either playing along or being judged to be uptight and humourless, when, of course, she is neither,

Certainly, Vernon didn't seem to mind the idea of being teased by her colleagues – it was being called a "bitch" and a "whore" that she found so shocking. Well, who wouldn't? However, ask any woman and the chances are that she has endured at least one instance, but more likely several, where an encounter has turned suddenly bizarrely lewd and sexually aggressive, in the name of breezy banter.

This results in her not only feeling uncomfortable but also reduced to smiling, laughing, obliging, placating, keeping up the female pantomime of "being a good sport", to keep the peace until she can make her escape.

That some men happen to be creeps isn't news. One could even argue that the increased pornification of culture inevitably leads to the increased pornification of conversation. The important thing is that most women don't welcome it and are increasingly inclined to give it the finger, à la Vernon.

For their part, maybe it's time that some men learned that a barrage of sexual innuendo and insults isn't a litmus test of a woman's sense of humour – it may be more revealing about themselves.

For hairdressing beyond call of duty…

How amusing to see Westminster males scrabble to lay claim to the cheapest haircut. Inspired by revelations about David Cameron's £90 trims, not to mention the MBE recently awarded to his stylist, Lino Carbosiero, it's getting to the point where the old jibe, "Did you get your hair done by the council?" could become a manifesto issue.

There was the claim that his cut cost £15 from the leader of the Commons, Andrew Lansley (a "silver fox", but at that price, with possible mange issues). Then a counterclaim of £13 from shadow works and pensions minister Chris Bryant, working an impish crop only bettered by Mia Farrow in Rosemary's Baby (still elegant even as she gave birth to Satan).

Meanwhile, Nick Clegg said that his cuts were £20 in Sheffield, but "cost more" in London. Well, fancy that.

Tellingly, there was a deafening silence from Westminster females. No woman in the public eye is going to pay £13 for a haircut. Even £90 would be pushing it if you're getting your colour done. As for giving your stylist an MBE, or even more – yeah, no moral-biggie at all ("Arise, Sir Jamie of Supercuts"). Many has been the time when I've felt I should award the Victoria Cross to the stylists battling my mop – if only for inhaling phenylenediamine fumes beyond the call of duty.

Most women would give a valued hairdresser anything they wanted – no one wants to be cast out into the tonsorial wilderness, especially with their clips and tinfoils still in. This mockery of Cameron's expensive hair day is a male thing.

Women would be understanding about the PM's need for luscious locks he can toss with the best of them – even a tad impressed that a straight guy's admitting to it.

Could Miley have twerked her way off the 'cool' list?

It seems that Juergen Teller turned down photographing Miley Cyrus for the new Marc Jacobs campaign. Teller usually shoots Jacobs' campaigns but they had to use another photographer, David Sims.

In the shots, Cyrus poses charmingly alongside what appears to be a female corpse. The point of that escapes me, though Teller's message is loud and clear.

Is Teller being a snob, or is he right to protect his reputation? The answer seems to lie in what someone described to me as the "currency of cool".

Yes, Cyrus is famous, controversial, raking in multi-millions. However, clearly for some, she is deemed too tacky and mainstream, worst still, naff and uninspiring, to be associated with.

This doesn't bode well for Cyrus.

It's one thing to scandalise the public, who could be dismissed as too straight, boring and conventional to "get" her – quite another to be considered unworthy of a click of the shutter by one of the leading lights of the photographic avant garde, mindful of protecting his own brand.

Such snubs could have a devastating domino effect. One hopes for Cyrus's sake that a different kind of twerking fallout isn't about to rain down.

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