Opinions Page #2

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to become sport stars, pop singers,

union leaders, airline pilots,

Harley Street proctologists etcetera.

But then aren't they also more likely

to become second hand car salesmen,

football hooligans, and or

psychopathic mass murderers?

As soon as a new infant

arrives in the world,

it is entered for a competition

with the neighbours.

Will she be called Sarah Maude,

or Charlene Chirrel?

Will he be called Simon Bend,

or Dwayne, or Darrell?

How painful of painless

was the delivery?

How heavy was the baby?

How long was it?

Did it have hair, and

were all its bits there?

Does it even remotely resemble its father?

Was its name put down for private school,

and if so, how long before birth?

Or is it so special that it

should have no special privileges

and be sent to one of the best

local educational authority schools

that the parents could

just happen to live near?

Fortunately, the neighbours

have at long last admitted

that they boobed over bottle feeding

and now sensibly recommend the breast.

Look, we've run out of letters

for the right hand corner already,

and it's a bit confusing with

that peer pressure thing

going on in the other corner,

I think it'd be better

if you'd just assumed

that everything I say

is stageringly important.

You won't go far wrong.

The next neighbourly competition

is called milestones.

How much more quickly did

your child learn to grin,

walk, crawl, take that

up, and deduct, teeth?

All useful signs for the paediatrician

looking for abnormalities,

but even better for gossip.

Neighbours love to count their blessings

as they label others as weirdos.

Simply being left handed

once evoked prejudice.

How many left handed corkscrews

or pianos have you seen,

I mean, real left handed pianos

with notes the other way round,

as a left handed person should

have the right to expect.

Not fair, is it?

Having decided the child's

gender identity for it,

the parents, motivated by

fear of the neighbours,

set about instilling in the creature

how essentially all male

or all female it must be.

Little boys don't cry.

And little girls don't play

with piston engines.

What mindboggingly pathetic

and emotionally stunting

little rules they make up.

Dressed totally in pink, little

girls are forced to play

with cerebrum shatteringly tedious

dolls and little model houses,

so that later on, they'll not only

merge in with their dull neighbours,

but also play an important role

in promotimg conservatism,

without even knowing where

they got their ideas from.

Similarly, little boys,

kitted out in blue,

are given tiny motor cars, cricket bats,

toy handgrenades, and excer sets.

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