REMEMBER the good old days when a “trigger warning” was just a simple message from a stoney-faced Simon Bates?
The old Radio 1 legend would pop up on an 18-rated VHS rental to politely inform you that the following film contained “strong scenes of sex . . . and sexsyool swear words”.
Instagram/gabbycab13The warning for My Life As An ‘Inspirational Porn’ Star featuring Gabrielle Leonore is pointless as it tells punters it contains, er, ‘scenes of a sexual nature’[/caption]
The Beautiful Future Is Coming, advertises ‘themes of grief; climate anxiety and birth anxiety; and descriptions of extreme weather events, drowning, burning and suicide’
Do people need to be warned — as they are this year in Edinburgh — that Macbeth contains ‘violence’, that a famously foul-mouthed comic might say something rude?
It was all very British, wasn’t it? DJ Simon in his suit and tie being terribly serious.
And, of course, we didn’t take a blind bit of notice.
No one thought: “Hang on, did he say “sex”? Woah! Not into that. I’m taking this one straight back to Blockbuster.”
Now it’s all gone a bit bonkers.
A trigger warning today is more like a sit down with a dodgy doctor who wants to make absolutely sure you have some kind of mental health problem.
He will do this, of course, by inventing numerous anxieties that you had hitherto never heard of or thought about. And I think that quack is now working for this summer’s Edinburgh Festival Fringe.
This cauldron of creativity — which invites audiences to “dare to discover” — is meant to be edgy and thought- provoking, but now show descriptions are drenched in weird trigger warnings.
Apparently fragile audiences are warned that they may experience scenes that could trigger “climate anxiety” or be subjected to “classism”, “ableism” or that nebulous newbie “transphobia”.
Some are just plain pointless, such as that for My Life As An “Inspirational Porn” Star featuring Gabrielle Leonore, which warns punters it contains, er, “scenes of a sexual nature”.
I should bloody well hope so!
These woefully woke warnings may be disparate in nature, but what they do have in common is that they are in danger of ruining whatever show they are trying to shield Generation Snowflake from.
Indeed, audiences already fed up of being “infantilised” by all these wretched warnings now complain they are also acting as spoilers.
One show, the called The Beautiful Future Is Coming, advertises “themes of grief; climate anxiety and birth anxiety; and descriptions of extreme weather events, drowning, burning and suicide”.
Oof! With a catalogue of cautions like that you might just be able to piece together the entire story.
Each year that passes trigger warnings get more frequent and more baffling.
How long before a trigger warning is issued about the list of trigger warnings?
Don’t laugh, I’ve got a Scottish fiver on it happening next year.
State of anxiety
Look, I know people suffer from anxiety but isn’t this all just a bit overkill?
Who is it actually helping?
Are there really folk of such a delicate disposition that they must be given chapter and verse of what they are about to see before they see it?
Do they need to be warned — as they are this year in Edinburgh — that Macbeth contains “violence”, that a famously foul-mouthed comic might say something rude? If these people do exist then I feel very sad for them.
If you don’t subject yourself to discomfort and the occasional surprise then you will end up stuck in a permanent state of anxiety of which the only ultimate cure is to stay at home, close the curtains and wet the bed.
Life can be difficult, violent and, yes, shocking. The best art reflects this.
In fact, I might write a play about all this lunacy and take it up to Edinburgh.
Trigger warning: Contains scenes all sensible people will find completely f***ing ridiculous.
SIGN OF IDLE IS SO SAD
AlamyBritain’s once-cherished lollipop men and women have become a dying breed[/caption]
THEY were as much a part of walking to school as spending your lunch money on a can of Quatro and some Jawbreakers at the newsagents on the way.
But now Britain’s once-cherished lollipop men and women have become a dying breed.
My home county of Derbyshire is struggling to fill a third of its £12.65 an-hour roles at its 107 sites, despite even offering to pay people during the school holidays.
So that’s money for nothing for ten weeks of the year.
How idle have people become that they can’t even be bothered to do what is surely one of the easiest and most soul-enriching jobs on the face of the Earth?
POOR ZELENSKY
POOR old Volodymyr Zelensky, left feeling obliged to wear a suit for his audience with Donald Trump.
Sure he managed to get a few laffs out of the vain Prez and the boorish bullies he surrounds himself with deploying a well-aimed jab at the reporter who humiliated him.
But it was still a cringeworthy episode for the brave Ukrainian leader.
And let’s face it, Trump is hardly a slave to proper attire, what with his penchant for wearing those awful truckers’ caps he couldn’t wait to show off.
TAXING TIMES
RACHEL REEVES is our hapless government’s very own equivalent of Ryanair.
Just like the grasping “low cost” airline, the Chancellor keeps finding new ways to screw a few more quid out of us.
Like her reported ruse to hit anyone flogging a house over £500k – so one in six homeowners – with a new property tax.
It’s always the same with Labour, isn’t it?
The mysterious “working people” Keir Starmer loves to bang on about can only work so hard before he tries to tax them out of existence.
Meanwhile, public spending on those who contribute the least – or in some cases bugger all – grows and grows.
A SLIM HOPE OF JAB
Luisa Zissman, from the Apprentice, has spent the week defending herself from the ‘McDonald’s-loving lazy fatties’ slagging her weight offInstagram/@luisazissman
HAVING just returned from a fortnight’s holiday I currently feel like the fattest bastard in Fat Bastard Town.
I daren’t go anywhere near the scales – not just because I’m worried what they’ll say, but because I think I might actually break them.
So thoughts now turn to the dreaded post-holiday diet, a soul-crushing few weeks of eating bowls of the kind of tasteless green stuff I would typically dismiss as “garnish”.
Please God, no!
I’m starting to wonder whether it might be easier to join Britain’s 1.5million fat-jabbers and embark on the Mounjaro Diet.
It does sound rather easy – just administer a tiny prick once a week (yes, ha ha, that’s enough about my sex life).
But if I do decide to take the, er, plunge I’m worried I won’t actually be able to get my hands on any of these miracle drugs because they’ve all been hoovered up by celebrities who were already slim.
Like Luisa Zissman from the Apprentice, who looks more like a character from a Lowry painting than the curvy lass I interviewed by a swimming pool as she modelled several bikinis(!) back in 2013.
Lairy Luisa has spent the week vociferously defending herself from the ‘McDonald’s–loving lazy fatties” slagging her off for looking ultra skinny, which is fair enough.
She can do what she likes with her body and give both barrels to anyone who thinks otherwise.
Of course, she may not be on the jabs.
It may just be pure coincidence that Luisa has found an eye-poppingly effective natural diet and exercise regime just as myriad “diabetes solutions” appear on the market.
But if she is, can she – and all the other skinny-obsessed stars jabbing away – just hold fire for a bit so there’s some gear left for those who actually need them?
REFORM’S new football top has strong Man City vibes with its blueish hue.
And of course the resemblance doesn’t end there.
Because much like the erstwhile former Premier League champs, Reform’s success has also largely come off the back of obscene sums of money spent on foreigners.
FILM REMAKE COMES UP SMELLING OF ROSES
AlamyBenedict Cumberbatch and Olivia Colman have pulled it off with The Roses[/caption]
AlamyThey reprise Michael Douglas and Kathleen Turner’s warring husband and wife in the redo of 1989’s The War of The Roses[/caption]
REMAKING an already great movie is always a risk – see Gus Van Sant’s dreadful version of Psycho for details – but Benedict Cumberbatch and Olivia Colman have pulled it off with The Roses, a redo of 1989’s The War of The Roses.
With these two superbly talented Brits reprising Michael Douglas and Kathleen Turner’s warring husband and wife, the chaotic comedy reaches new heights.
They might not look much like a couple but their caustic chemistry is mesmerising, helped by a riotously funny and at times outrageous script by Poor Things writer Tony McNamara.
I chuckled like a child on nitrous oxide for most of it and now nominate Olivia for the Oscar for Best C-Bomb.
It’s out next Friday. Book a seat and hold on to your sides.
COLD PALMER
POOR old Cole Palmer, whose “Cold Palmer” nickname has been trademarked by a French vineyard. I know how he feels.
As a highly sophisticated bon viveur, I was poised to launch my own champagne range until I discovered the cheeky Frogs had nipped in there first!
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