Death to the metrosexuals!

Robert Crofts

Name:Robert Crofts
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Joined: Jan 2012
Occupation: studying at 6th form
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Robert Crofts steps up to extract the Pea from the Peacocks…

Photo by Ewen Roberts

Alas the day has come when the harbinger of hysteria, the augur of adulation and the portent of passion shall rise from the ashes like a majestic phoenix and unfurl its mighty wings and embrace the world. Yes, the metrosexual has returned.

I see that my dramatic opening has failed to cause a stir of excitement or even the raising of an eyebrow. I can tell you why. It’s because the news doesn’t warrant it. This event will be as disappointing as the sequel to any Steven Spielberg film.

The question is why someone as indifferent to the metrosexual as myself is writing about it? Small-mindedness is the reason. A Mr. Paul Harris wrote in The Observer in 2005 that, “The metrosexual is dead: Long live the übersexual.” I’m afraid to say Paul, but you are wrong because the metrosexual is thriving and the Neanderthal übersexual, well, isn’t. In fact I very much doubt its existence in the first place.

Firstly, it is important to define a metrosexual and its counterpart an übersexual. Mark Simpson coined the term metrosexual in 1994 (meaning a man who is very conscious of the upkeep of his physical appearance). Nine years later the pretentious Marian Salzman created the übersexual, who is in essence the same as a metrosexual but who has traditional manly qualities such as confidence, strength and class. Now these two words have become the Capulet and Montague of pointless neologisms, despite being as different as Tesco’s Finest and Tesco’s Market Value products (about 80p).

Before you throw down this article, grumbling “what a load of rubbish…” – hear me out. I conducted an investigation earlier this year for my A-level coursework and have found that males are being portrayed more femininely in cosmetic adverts, thus providing proof for the existence of the metrosexual. The biggest change being that advertisers opt to use more question-like sentences for male cosmetics than any other sentence type, suggesting passivity. This is far from a traditional manly value, so up yours Salzman. Similarly, advertisers for women seem to be changing tack as they use more command-like sentences, showing assertiveness. However, no-one has bothered coining a term for this. I’m not even going to try.

The king of the metrosexuals - David Beckham. Photo by Adifansnet

But who are these metrosexuals, I hear you cry? The leading figures in the world of metrosexuality include David Beckham and all other footballers (although Wayne Rooney does look as if he dwells under a bridge scaring little billy goats for a living); Peter Andre; and Mark Wright from The Only Way is Essex (or “TOWIE” as it is pathetically dubbed). Apart from the permanent preening and pouting, I’ve noticed one other quality in common. The space where their brain should be is as empty as a hermits address book. This explains why the aforementioned investigation also found no evidence of humour in male adverts.

Yes, the metrosexual is back as well as being backwards. This is far from good news – how many young girls stick posters of Stephen Hawkins on their wall? How many young lads aspire to be the next Patrick Moore? These metrosexuals have the cool factor and our youngsters want to be them even if that means having the intellect of an amoeba. I know you ladies reading this will not be fawning over pot bellied, muscle devoid, Joseph Merrick look-a -likes of men, but at least they have an iota of sense, unlike these moisturising, hair gelling, self-tanning imbeciles.

So please, for the good of our youngsters, the good of our nation and the good of our manhood, albeit at the expense of women’s fantasies (the greater good I’m afraid ladies), help me bring an end to the metrosexuals domination of the TV screen, sports and women’s daydreams along with the downfall of its exceptionally pitiful name. Then the true, admittedly mostly ugly, men will take back their rightful place. Intelligence may become cool, the term metrosexual shall be rightfully replaced with narcissist and anyone branded under it will be heavily ridiculed and all will be well. Granted this plea is probably unnecessary because I can’t conceive a metrosexual mustering enough brain power to do anything significant except plaintively pout and show off their Herculean pecs. So maybe no need to worry chaps…well not just yet anyway.