What is Wrong with

Southland Times, Issue 20499, 30 May 1928, Page 5

What is Wrong with

Women

London. I like to be fair to all sides, particularly my own side. Therefore I have spent a good deal of time trying to find out what is the cause of the present outcry amongst my fellow males against women. Personally, I am sure that women have brought this trouble on themselves. Otherwise why should so many normally lethargic men have recently rushed into print to denounce women in the mass and in the piece? All these “Indigant Males” and “Freeborn Citizens” must for years back have known the nefarious influence that women has been exerting on the world. Now apparently the cup is full, and man, having drawn the sword, has thrown away the scabbard

It may, be that it is the possible imminence of the “Flapper Vote” that has brought things to a head. It may be the irruption of women into otir London hospitals. It may be the advent of the spattee. Whatever it may be, no sane man can fail to recognise the handwriting on the wall and the thick end of the wedge. But now that the time has come for us men to rally round and defend something, all I want to know is what I am to defend? Wherp am I menaced by intrusive woman? What is going to be inscribed on the banner under which I fight? I admit women are now obtaining and holding jobs that were formerly sacred to men. This would grieve me considerably if I didn’t remember the host of male cooks, dressmakers, and the like. Women are becoming more and more independent. This is undeniable, but as I used to condemn Eve as a clinging parasite, the less I say now the better. Women’s clothes have become shamelessly revealing. True, and if for many years they hadn’t bathed coram publico, with next to nothing on, I’d be shocked. Besides, I’ve seen pictures of the beauties of the Regency and Early Victorian periods, and the arceage of flesh displayed therein showed no undue prudishness. Women are becoming unwomanly. The drawback to this complaint is that if it is true, women must be acquiring some of the male qualities that make us such splendid fellows. Women are no longer content with the simple domestic joys that satisfied their grandmothers. Nowadays they no longer sit at home, knitting stockings for their good man and seeking recreation on the spinet or harpsichord. I am afraid that is only too true, and I’m glad. Home-knitted stockings and homeknitted tunes on the spinet hold out no joys for me. Besides, I don’t care to talk in too loud a voice about domestic skill. My one and only attempt to put a washer on a tap led to an early, humiliating and watery retirement. Again, it is asserted that women are the helpless slaves of fashion, and follow it blindly like sheep. I’d like to believe that this is true. Unfortunately, the other day I studied a mixed group of people, and, to my amazement, no two women’s hats were alike except in shape. As for my fellow moles, the hats appeared to have all come out of the same mould. But, as I’ve said before, there must be a severe indictment against women if I could only discover what it is. Ha! A cable from the British United Press says, “The cannibals of the New Hebrides, in the Pacfic, have decided that women are not worth eating.” I’m dropping a line to my New Hebrides friends this evening. They know the secret. Perhaps they’ll disclose it to me.