The Edge 165:The Edge 165.qxd
25/06/2010
11:45
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RABBITING ON
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Bird’s Eye View SPLITTING HAIRS
This is a bit of a sensitive question, but is your 'crack' in the small, medium or large category? We only know if we've got a huge problem or not if someone else broaches the same, awkward subject. For shy women, the wait can take as long as an NHS appointment, but for the twin-set tigers (open-minded and open mouthed), it only takes a bottle of plonk and some loose-lipped lingo to declare 'open season' on all cracks: you show me yours, I'll show you mine. Cracks, like women, come in all shapes and sizes. Some are small and perfectly formed and barely require attention, whilst others are big and ugly and are capable of destroying a woman's peace of mind. We never know what sort of cracks other women are hiding until they flap their lips. Take Kelly Brook, Britain's honed and toned airhead; her puppies and pins might take the crotch creases out of an army of male trousers worldwide, but behind closed doors, she was burdened with a pretty massive crack, in the form of Danny Cipriani. Take heart, Kel, time and another toyboy heals all wounds. Even the diminutive figure of Cheryl Cole was hiding a monster of a crack, but an army of legal experts have ensured that everything's been sewn up nice and neatly. Mrs Ronan Keating, despite her severe discomfort, is managing to live with hers (for now), whilst Tiger Woods wife experienced a marital earthquake when her husband was caught beating around far too many a bush beyond his own back garden. If you're becoming concerned about any cracks in your own life, be aware of CDS (Crack Dysmorphia Syndrome); sometimes things aren't as bad as you think. Most cracks require acknowledgement, but little aggressive action to heal up nicely. It's a mistake to confuse a paper cut in your relationship for a giant gaping gash. Other times, you need to get your hands dirty and delve around a bit in the dark to get to the bottom of things. However, if, as a woman, you know you're the sole reason for a crack opening up wider than an earthquake, then it's wise to remember that if you're going to open your heart - and your legs do try and keep your mouth shut after the event.
A recent study states that two thirds of women are unhappy with their lot in life and bored senseless with the banality of juggling domestic chores, child-rearing, careers and stale relationships. It's all D&G in a woman's world, and I'm talking 'Doom and Gloom' - not Dolce & Gabana. Single women might be perceived to have more time to indulge their insecurities and those of a fair few married men, but mental and sexual frustration - and a gnawing fear of the future - isn't just the reserve of the unattached; everyone in life is obsessively checking their eggtimer and fearing it's getting bottom-heavy before its time. Something tells me the statisticians will have a field day with their female bar charts if the green Euro MPs win the war against the use of PVC in the manufacturing process of our consumer products. By all means, call time on its use and all the other poisonous plastic crap that clogs up our landfill sites, but methinks a nest of vipers will spring to life should they try and ban our Rampant Rabbits and their pocket-sized mates alongside our washing machines and dishwashers. Come on guys, really think about this. If anyone thinks two thirds of unhappy females is a growing burden on society, wait until the other third joins the ranks.
MUZZLE IT
The England vs Algeria World Cup match felt like watching a pack of young Jack Russell pups playing ball with some slothful Labradors. Even Rooney was more pit-stop than pit bull, except after the final whistle when his muzzle slipped. But what was really so bad about his comment to the frustrated booing crowd? Disappointment and frustration makes whiners of us all (players and supporters alike); but since when has spending a lot of money to travel across the world to support your country's team come with a fulfilment guarantee? Overpaid and publicity saturated sportsmen have their 'off' days and cringingly bad matches. Admittedly, these players can cheer themselves up with a high class hooker or a spin around their 200 acre estate in an Aston when the jet-lag has settled. Your average Joe, meanwhile, returns to a list of chores, a harassed wife and a credit card bill as long as the flight home. But that's the danger of making Gods out of ordinary men. Women all over the world have known this for centuries, only we call them husbands/boyfriends, and, years later, 'the twat.' The two sexes actually have more in common than they realise. It's called 'the triumph of hope over experience' and long may it reign. The Edge 01245 348256