AND f inally

IWAS BORN Anthony Martin and I am a Caucasian male. My preferred pronouns are he/him. My wife and I have two children and I have the dangly bits associated with my gender. And to show that I have welcomed wokeism as well as being right up there with the current zeitgeist, I have decided, just for the hell of it, to identify as George Clooney.

I missed out on rebelling in my teenage years, but better late than never. My wife, who identifies as Scarlett Johansson, tells me I should choose someone else as I don’t have the hair to be the Clooney, but I think, bugger that, as the whole idea of alter-identification is that I can now identify as anyone I happen to choose.

If, in Britland, I am legally allowed to put on a skirt and go to the ladies’ loo, then I can damned well identify as Mr Clooney. Or, should I wish, as Mrs Clooney.

Yes indeedy, times have changed. Unfortunately, greater freedom of speech and the freedom to express yourself has led to less freedom for others, particularly in my old country.

So far, this summer, wherever there was a large gathering of people – be it Ascot, Wimbledon or the cricket – there were the Just Stop Oil bods protesting about the usage of fossil fuels, anti-monarchists complaining about royality, the anti-LGBTQIA+ crusaders, Extinction Rebellion and the small splinter groups, all having their own complaints to moan about and interrupting the events that give pleasure to others.

Then there were the idiots who super-glued themselves to all manner of things; orange powder has become the weapon of the disgruntled; highways and byways have been blocked by those who had nothing better to do that day; and peoples’ daily lives were interrupted.

While I am all for sticking to your principles, making your voice heard and, if necessary, protesting, but not if it means disrupting the lives of others attempting to go about their daily routine. I’m tired of hearing “there is no other way” because there is always another way.

And here we are in a new era, allowing the individuals total freedom. Morality, as we used to know it, has been thrown out of the window, and we can be and do almost anything we like, including that most English of no-no’s, frightening the horses. Boundaries are disappearing fast, as the personal needs and wants of all take precedence. Forget love thy neighbour, now all about me, me, me, now, now, now.

And the perfect example of this is the introduction of the personal pronoun choices. I cannot understand why there are those who wish their private lives, including their sexuality, to be publicly announced by their name tag. Why should I have to be concerned that I have insulted someone by misreading their newly-minted badge and referring to them as he/her rather than they.

I have enough problems remembering names: how the hell am I going to remember their choice of pronouns and besides that, why should we need to know what two adults do with their bodies, when they do it, and with whom they do it?

There are bigger things in this world to worry about. For instance, why do male saxophone players wear hats and whether penguins have knees? These are the types of things I would like answered, not how do I address a bearded six-footer in a Schiaparelli gown and Jimmy Choo shoes.

And how am I going to tell my family, who live in the UK, that my wife and I identify as Hollywood royalty?

I don’t know how my neighbours, ‘Hugh Grant’ and ‘Beyonce’ handled it, particularly as they have been so busy for the past few weeks rebuilding the garage and laying cabling for the exterior lighting.

Yes, it’s a growing movement, everybody is at it. What was Vive la différence, is now Vive l’égalité.