With a deft touch, Janet Albrechsten skewers whining Winnies who find sexism at every turn.
When will the keepers of academia clear the cloisters of ideological deadwood and replace them with open, intelligent minds that welcome opposing views and delight in humourous commentary on the human condition?
In any case, don’t underrate the Bond girls. Full of humour, they radiate a delightfully modern mix of confidence, arrogance and sexual liberation. Who can forget Pussy Galore, the lesbian pilot, or Plenty O’Toole and Holly Goodhead? Pick any Bond girl and I’ll find something more legitimately feminist about her than the Moaning Myrtles who cry sexism each time the latest Bond movie hits our screens. And then there’s that Bond woman M, head of MI6, who routinely puts 007 in his place. As other women my age have remarked, when you grew up in the late 1970s watching repeats of Bewitched and I Dream of Jeannie, the Bond girls were a refreshing break from Samantha and Jeannie.
Instead of whining that the latest Bond movie is sexist, spare a thought for the poor blokes who could air a bigger grievance. They can never hope to be Bond. Not in the 21st century, where revealing even the smallest hint of the alpha male is pounced on by puritanical feminists as a sign of uncontrolled machismo and sexism. Maybe women like me love 007 because he is the antithesis of the metrosexual men who surround us.
Confession time. The beloved’s maiden name was O’Toole which meant copping the sobriquet ”Plenty” for quite a period.