Your Prejudice is Showing

Remember when Sex and the City 2 came out, and everyone screamed that it was racist because it showed the citizens of Abu Dhabi in a "bad light"? It was full of "stereotypes" such as women wearing niqabs, and men who disapprove of slutty Americans committing lewd acts in public.

Just as well they didn't go to Saudi Arabia; they'd have 
been driving cars or something. Outrageous!

Of course, calling these depictions of Arabian people "negative" means that actually, you're the one who's racist. Saying that the film is guilty of "characterizing Arab men as religious zealots" assumes that in non-movie reality, citizens of Abu Dhabi are just as liberal as we are. (Apparently it never occurs to us egocentric Westerners that they might be perfectly happy to be portrayed as being strict adherents to Muslim law, and what we call "Islamaphobic stereotyping" might be their idea of a great example for us to follow.)

I can't help thinking that a similar mindset fuelled the rabid mouth-frothing criticism of Benefits Street, which lit up the tabloids as well as the TV schedule with its portrayal of a Birmingham community where work is scarce. People complained that the residents of the street were filmed in an unflattering way, called the show poverty porn and signed a petition to ban any more episodes being shown. If you think Benefits Street was "insulting" to low-income families, then maybe you're the one who's being snobby. An alternative perspective is that it showed a heart-warming sense of community in James Turner Street, as well as the helplessness of people who are desperate to work but just can't catch a break, and the bleakness of life when you're dependent on handouts.

One of the most memorable characters was Fungi, an oddly lovable ex-drug addict and current alcoholic who fitted neatly into the stereotypical "homeless guy" look, which helped when he was scamming the public with fake Big Issues. As well as nicking anything that wasn't nailed down, he lived off odd jobs given to him by his neighbours. Although he's since called White Dee "two faced" they appeared close on the show; she accompanied him to his scary hospital appointment as well as providing comedy gold when she asked him about his first crime. (Armed robbery. Where? McDonalds.)

When his fresh-out-of-prison friend Danny got arrested, Fungi's little face was so sad it was like watching Lady and the Tramp when Lady gets nabbed by the pound.

One thing that passed almost without comment was Fungi's admission that he's been on Diazepan since he was 16 because of childhood abuse. (It later emerged that he'd been raped.) White Dee also mentioned being on anti-depressants, although in the follow-up discussion show Benefits Britain: The Debate, Daily Telegraph columnist Allison Pearson pointed out that Dee's energetic, take-charge attitude was at odds with someone claiming to be clinically depressed. Unlike Fungi, Dee could easily find a job if she wanted one. But you could also argue that taking care of everyone else's appointments, translating government communication and acting as mediator between feuding mothers was a full-time job in itself.

She wasn't the only busy bee on the street; you could see that Fungi and Danny considered shoplifting a legitimate day's work. Morals don't come into it – in their world, stealing is just something you have to do to survive. Meanwhile Smoggy showed his entrepreneurial spirit by buying drinks and cleaning products and then distributing the contents across little paper cups to sell for 50p a pop. It was an encouraging reminder that people actually want to earn a crust. As Dostoyevsky said:"Deprived of meaningful work, men and women lose their reason for existence; they go stark, raving mad."

And that's why I find it so irritating when people accuse the show of being anti-benefits propaganda. Arguing that "it's probably all staged / they've edited it to show the worst bits / most people on benefits are either disabled or pensioners..." is denying the truth: that this depressing, hand-to-mouth existence is the reality for some unfortunate people. And it's for their sake, not the taxpayers', that we need to change the way jobseekers are treated.

The government doesn't care if you're wasting your life away in a routine of Jeremy Kyle marathons and junk food. As long as levels of unemployment don't rise above a certain threshold, it's not their problem. In the "debate" Richard Bacon asked if anyone thought it looked fun to be on benefits – obviously expecting the answer to be no, although Dee jumped in with "Of course they will!". It was a "Shall I tell her or will you?" moment – living on benefits looks GRIM. I have no idea why people get all indignant at the idea of anyone "sponging" – do they imagine that a life of playing computer games while drinking lager and chain-smoking is a wonderful, joyful existence?

Whether you're a pop singer or a postman, human beings find satisfaction in knowing that they're making a contribution to the world – and no matter what your employment status, you can pitch in to your community. Maybe that's why life on Benefits Street involved leaving your front door ajar for friends to pop in, and socialising, hairdressing and playing all took place out in the street. It was like a 1950s utopia.

The only difference was the fruitiness of the language.

Another bone of contention was that Channel 4 lied to the residents: "They told us it was about living as a community and how we all got along. But the actual programme doesn't show any of that... They tricked us."

As always, lesson one is "Never trust a TV crew". But did they really lie? The show DOES show a close-knit group of neighbours who rally around and help each other through everything from domestic rows to cancer scares. It also showed that some of them indulge in illegal activities, defraud the benefits office or express shock at the idea of getting a job and thus being "different from everyone else". Both sides of the story reflect the reality of life in Britain.

I stopped buying the Big Issue a few years ago when I read an issue which featured interviews with a bunch of sellers. They asked each one how long they'd been selling and the majority of them had answers of ten years or more. (Another question was "Do you think Britain does enough for the homeless?" and several of them answered "Yes".) I had naively believed that selling the Big Issue was a stepping stone to rehabilitation, not an alternative; I now prefer to give my money to the shelters which will help people to get back onto their feet, find a home and get a job. Giving someone just enough money to get them through the day, without making any attempt to help them change their lifestyle, is a rubbish way to treat people, but it's echoed in the benefits system.

The only way we can fix the situation is by acknowledging that we have a problem. Is anyone listening? 

50 Movies with Ingenious Costume Design

Writing and Clothes: my two favourite things! Remember when I said I was writing for Den of Geek and it was taking ages? Well, here's the finished product – it took freaking AEONS to finish as the old day job intruded somewhat. (I don't know if you've ever tried to buy Elizabethan dresses and chimp puppets on Christmas eve, but I can assure you it's not the best way to spend the evening.)

And before you yell at me for not including your own personal favourites (feel free to write your own countdown!) please note that it's not a list of the "best" costumes. It's not a list of the ones that took the most hard work and attention to detail. It's not even a list of the fashions that were the most influential. It's a list of movies whose costumes were ingenious in some way – and that's why quirky choices like The Gold Rush and Rosemary's Baby made the cut. Enjoy!

Family Christmases are Funny

Christmas was ages ago, but I'm feeling the need to stretch out the festivities this year (possibly because I was still working up until 9pm on Christmas Eve).

Being in close proximity to family members for days on end can produce the odd tense moment as turkey-roasting methods are called into question by people who haven't been slaving over a hot stove for hours. Some families hate each other at the best of times and enforced togetherness is a gruelling chore to survive, rather than a joyous occasion of family unity.

And then there's my family, which is delightfully eccentric.

You'll be pleased to know that I asked my family's approval before
 publising this post, hence the blanked out name. Makes you wonder 
about the stories that got vetoed out, doesn't it..?

This picture was created one day when we were musing "What would we call a book written about us?" My apologies for the poor quality of the photos; they were taken on a phone a few years ago while we were watching 24 and imitating Chloe's crosspatch expression.

As you already know from my previous posts, we keep a written record of our silliest moments (known as "The Book". As I'm too lazy to write a proper blog, I thought I'd treat you to some of its highlights.

Appropriately enough, religion often features (although a discussion of Christmas card aesthetics resulted in mum saying "This is going to sound awful, but I think the ones with nativity scenes look a bit... old hat"). 

She also read a book which mentioned that the way Jesus' burial clothes were folded was symbolically significant in the Jewish culture at the time. It turns out to be one of those apocryphal stories, but it was worth it to hear mum say "I thought he was just being neat and tidy".

On another occasion: "You know that Tony Pearce, who writes a letter about the last days? Well, he always ends on a high note..."

"Talkin' 'bout the end of days..." This reminded me that my family might be
 more redneck than I realised.  (Any excuse to include a Pistol Annies track.)

Christmas is of course the season for watching TV (Mum: "What's that programme you like? 'Retarded Development'?") and all those seasonal specials are great when you're feeling festively plump and boozily sleepy. Michael  Bublé elicited the response "Is there something wrong with his legs?" ("No mum, he's dancing") and Dad channelled his inner stylist again when he saw some celebrity women who had posed without makeup for charity: "They look as if they've crawled out from under a rock."

Then there was the time that mum walked in halfway through a news story about the late Pope John Paul II becoming a saint. Seeing a doddery old man on screen, she pointed out "He doesn't look very well."

Dad: "He's dead"

The morbid sense of humour continued with dad's search for someone to mend a dripping tap: "Of course, the trouble with all these good, older plumbers is that they'll be retiring or dying soon.. but then so will I, so what's the difference...?"

Then mum said that she'd like a particular painting on her 'bucket list'.

Me: "You do know that a bucket list is things to do before you kick the bucket, don't you?"

Mum, brightly: "Oh, p'raps I mean 'wish basket'."

Another recurring theme was the redneck lifestyle (not surprising for a family who go bowling and eat burgers on mother's day). One day when I was assuming dad would be playing golf, I went to say good morning to my mum, who was sitting in bed in semi-darkness. She said "I'm watching the shopping channel!" to which I naturally replied, in my best True Blood accent, "I'm a redneck! I have a son named Bubba and I like watching the shopping channel!" I then sat on my dad, who, unbeknownst to me had skipped his golf game because of the rain, and was still snuggled under the covers trying to sleep, hence the dark room and low volume. Until I showed up. Oops. 

You might REALLY be a redneck if your favourite kind of shopping 

involves staying in your PJs all day.

Mum's alcohol consumption is always good for a laugh; luckily this year my brother didn't make any of his lethal cocktails, so there was no risk of mum leading us in a midnight conga down the street (at least, no more risk than usual). She is well-known for not generally drinking very much, which is why I was once heard to say "She normally only has a thumplefold... a thumble... I don't know what I'm trying to say..." 

(I meant "thimble-full", and yes, I may have had a bit of a head start on the wine at that point.)

When Dad offered to top up her glass, she squeaked "Just a tinsy, tinsy bit... that's enough!" to which he retorted "I haven't put any in yet!"

Dad and I also had a conversation about the practice of standing up in bars:

Dad: "I don't like to stand up when I drink."

Me: "No!"

Dad: "And I don't like standing up when I eat!"

Me: "No!"

Both together: "I don't like standing up!"

The book has also revealed some interesting evidence of possible past lives as animals: Further to Dad's identification with birds, we've realised that my mother has an unusual level of empathy for crocodiles. "I think people are quite cruel to crocodiles – they only eat people because they're hungry". On another occasion she complained about the way "people are always tying them up with rope." (Dad: "Well, you wouldn't tie them up with sellotape, would you?") 

Check out this croc's goofy grin: What's not to love?

We also offer sympathy to all manner of inanimate objects; when Mum and I entertained ourselves by drawing a face on a melon (there's no end to our fun activities) Dad interrupted all the pointing and laughing with "Don't be mean!"

My favourite Mum story occurred when she was doing a crossword and announced "And I didn't know an ounce is called a snow leopard."  Although for a few moments it seemed that she'd been replaced by a robot and her brain-to-mouth function was short-circuiting, it turns out to be true. (To be exact, a snow leopard is also known as an ounce, so it won't really work if you go to the sweetshop and ask for five snow leopards of gum drops.)

Amid all this hilarity, I told her "Ooh, you're Tony Bennett all over, you are. Oh.... not Tony Bennett, Alan Bennett..."

  

It must be genetic.