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Well it was bound to be stated and by one of their own as well, shocking isn't...

I may be accused of being slightly biased, on the odd occasion making some slight reference to the opposite sex and those occasional words could not be mistaken for being, well, economical with the truth, admittedly..

As the blog heading states, I am just given back what I am witnessing and have witnessed over the years. Fair is fair, but I have found a concerted effort and a deliberate and obvious reduction in blatant male bashing articles recently and that includes the ads as well as those actions are now soundly put down by our own and others onside, who are basically just sick to death of it all.
If you were around in the early nineties, you would have been aghast at the downright hate and malice that was shown on the boobtube and in the written word. They delved into every possible corner and dug up every possible issue they could find, to cast vitriol as well as stating downright lies in order to denigrate and humiliate our sex with glee.

I can remember one particular "news story", where another snarky harridan wondered out aloud as to why men would bother looking under the bonnet of a car that had broken down, it was obviously just silly according to this instant engineering expert.
I didn't say that all that aggravation against men did not have a comical side..

Now they have been getting some of it back and they obviously don't like savouring that same action, that they so heartily promoted back then and even up until now. Pure hypocrites ofcourse, they had no problem dishes it out but have major issues having to face that reciprocal response. Even to the stage of trying to introduce new speech laws, just to protect their privileged, over sensitive and all too fragile selves..

The unusual issue about this heading is that I have spoken to many females who claim that same fact. They seek male company any time they can, even just to sit around or just to hangout, as even they prefer silence to noise, normal conversation rather than that endless bitching, that most women prefer while it is becoming even more recognised for what it is and are obviously quite happy to promote..

They encourage dysfunctional and then have the temerity by claiming that they should be automatically included in boardrooms, governments and should be running the world, not on merit but solely because they possess that "special"organ. Can you imagine the effects of having the entire planet full of women, all being synchronised..

That Space Station is starting to look mighty inviting..

Hell on Earth is a room full of other women!

By Virginia Ironside

Don’t get me wrong. It’s not that I hate women. I have dozens of female friends and I’m deeply fond of them all. But if you put a load of women together, a toxic chemical change seems to occur — one that turns them into bitchy, gossiping harpies, and produces an explosive reaction in me. And I’m not the only person to feel this way.
Viewers of TV show The Apprentice, in which contestants are regularly divided into teams by gender, frequently complain that the women’s attempts to work together descend into unedifying, shrill arguments. One of the show’s advisers, Karren Brady, has even pulled contestants up for it, telling them their in-fighting was giving women a bad name.

This is something I have certainly seen first-hand. I used to work at Woman magazine — wall-to-wall women, as you would imagine, except for an art director who sensibly kept a low-profile. It was there I discovered quite how bitchy and cruel women can be when they’re in a group — women who, on their own, are perfectly nice and friendly.
Many of them were so insecure that they tried to shore up their positions of power by snapping at their secretaries or forcing poor sub-editors to work long into the night just so they would have some company when they had to stay late themselves. Around that time I also learned that when a lot of women spend time together in a confined space, as they do in convents, they all start to menstruate at the same time.
So I’d hold my breath in the lifts just in case any of the lunar hormones, or whatever they were, got to me, and set my cycle working in some ghastly physical unison with the fashion editor, the cooking editor and even, heaven forbid, the daunting Editor herself.
When one of us had PMT it was bad enough — God only knows what it would have been like if we were all in sync. Raging hormones aside, one thing I hate about all-women groups is the competitiveness they breed — which manifests itself in boasting about everything, from how well their children/grandchildren are doing at school to how cheaply they bought designer clothes for at Oxfam.
Yet there is one thing guaranteed to bond even the most fraught group of females: the idea that it’s frightfully good fun to be female, and aren’t we lucky that those silly old men aren’t around.

Men, they all agree, are like little boys. Men get man-flu. Men are hopeless. Men don’t have feelings and (as the ‘girls’, as they call themselves, reach for the fifth glass of white) men only ever have one thing on their mind. While I’m sure I have said all of those things myself in my time, I still feel uncomfortable listening to a gang of women talk about how useless men are.
There’s a ‘them and us’ feel to it that is a tad too shrill, and curiously rather reminds me of the below-stairs staff griping about the lords and ladies upstairs. There’s always been a tendency for women of my generation to moan about men when they’re en masse — which I suppose dates back to the growth of the feminist movement in the Sixties — but I find it terribly tedious.
More recently, I was sent by this newspaper to review The Vagina Monologues, which consists, basically, of an all-female cast of four talking about how men stink and how if women ruled the world there would be no war. The audience is urged to shout out each letter of a rude word in celebration of womanhood.
Naturally it attracted hen parties — it would have taken a brave man to venture into the theatre — and the smug superiority of it all, the ‘us and them-ness’, made me feel as if  I was drowning in a sea  of Tampax.This anxiety about keeping myself free of all-women environments extends to my home, where I have a couple  of lodgers — strictly one of each sex. Experience has taught me that a house full of women is an icky business.
There tends to be bitching in the bathroom about who used whose shampoo, and carping in the kitchen about whose crumbs are on the floor. Any criticism results in sides being taken and gossip in the hall — whereas blokes, on being asked to clear up or stick to their own food will either ignore you or just get on with it.
All-women groups make me yearn for the ‘difference’ of men — for their deep voices and practical natures. Lest I appear too sexist, I should add that large groups of men can be equally off-putting — with their swearing, hectoring, back-slapping, and jostling for superiority by showing off the makes of their respective cars.
The solution to this? I resolve to restrict myself to mixed gatherings in future. There’ll be no hen parties for me, no Women’s Institute meetings, no Ladies Luncheon Clubs, no girly sewing bees  and no women’s bowling associations. I don’t think I’ll even be watching the women’s doubles at Wimbledon (nor, come to think of it, the men’s). When it comes to making a gathering go with a bang, there are only two things you really need — men and women.