I hate lads. When I use the word ‘lad’, I mean any male who thinks degrading women is, under any circumstances, funny. Lads are impotent, pathetic, wormy, unfunny, insecure, petty, spiteful, ugly, stupid creatures incapable of wit or intelligence of any kind. They’re moronic caricatures of real people.
There is something broken in our culture. There is a sub-species that roams the land – a Neanderthal-esque vestigial of life, that focuses only upon reducing women to a collection of parts. These ‘lads’ think they’re funny, witty, cool – but they’re not. They’re morons. Of course, they’re part of a larger problem (rampant, ingrained, intrinsic sexism), but I need a target. So, since they’re the most ubiquitous and obnoxious culprits… I choose them.
Lads are awful with women. They’ll hate this statement and I can almost hear them now, rustling their score-sheets, readying their best one-night-stand story, puffing up their over-bench-pressed chests and clenching their malformed fists. But it’s the truth – lads are awful with women because they’ve never realised that women are people. It seems obvious, but to them it isn’t. Women to them are vacuous shells and only good for one thing. That’s one very important thing to realise about this emerging species. They’re chronic dehumanisers. To them, women are locked in a constant state of lust ready at any moment. Whether it’s on the street, when being heckled in a club, when being groped in a toilet or when being raped… just to fulfil their needs.
On the other hand, lads love power. Because of their almost crippling insecurities and lack of self-worth, they feel it’s necessary to grab power at any opportunity. Oh look, there’s a girl . . . I’ve never met her . . . she doesn’t know me, but . . . if I shout at her I may feel powerful and manly. They are so obsessed with a man-woman representation of the world that they feel obliged to affirm their masculinity by degrading females. “They bad, we good,” they slur as they sit around their primeval campfire. And while this happens, we all just sit, staring absently into space because the ‘lads’ have descended – it’s war time, and we don’t want to fight.
Imagine a world: a woman wakes up, has a shower, brushes her teeth, doesn’t do her makeup, leaves the house in comfortable clothes and goes to work, university or college and magically, no one comments upon her appearance. No one degrades her for not wearing makeup, heels or a skirt and no one harasses her for sex. The fact that this seems so odd says much about the unequal state of gender relations. People who say ‘women are equal now’ are ignorant of the pervasive, pernicious sexualisation that often manifests itself, not in big, front-page-worthy stories, but in work and university place ‘banter’. (‘Banter’, is lad-code for being reprehensibly horrible and passing it off as humour.) It happens all the time. Honestly, just pay attention next time you encounter these strange beasts. The amount of ‘lads’ who think it’s acceptable and even funny to publicly sexualise women in front of their friends is astonishing. Banter is the antithesis of wit. Banter is a lazy person’s joke. Banter is, essentially, what unfunny morons use so they don’t have to think.
It’s safe to say I hate them. If this article is anything, it is a declaration of my hate. Obviously, I can’t hate them all, but anyone who even vaguely resembles the type of person I have been describing, and I’m not joking, I truly hate. They’re non-thinkers, conformers, sheep, bleating along in their pathetic herd, huddling up to the nearest pneumatic skull-head, readying themselves for the next innocent girl who walks past. “She’d get it . . . phwoar . . . yeah . . .” What exactly would she get? The disease that has swept across Britain turning innumerable young men into lobotomised, slathering harassers? I don’t think she wants it, mate.