Some time well into the future, when I am approaching my dotage, I envisage myself being surrounded by cherubic grandchildren who will ask, 'Nanna Bing, when you were younger, what did YOU do to make a better world for people?'
I'm not sure what will be my demeanour when I answer. At the time of typing this post, I have no grandchildren, so I'm not sure how I will behave around them. If I inherit attitude and personality from of my own two grandmothers, I will likely flick out my false teeth at them, then snarl and bark at a perceived slight like some rabid female were-beast. Or maybe I will just chuckle, "I'll tell you, kiddies, but first of all pour Nana Bing a vodka, lime and soda. Use that silver measuring cup for the vodka - you know, Nana Bing bought that when she was first going out with your Poppy Pete - oh, and the vodka is in that bottle near Nanna Bing's glass skull collection. Okay, children - aaah, that's the ticket! - you will be an excellent bartender one day - you know, your great-grandmother was a barmaid because your great-great grandmother was a publican - and anyway, kiddies, this is what I did to make the world a better place back in those heady days of the Two Thousand and Tens...
"I used my social media platform to promote fair judicial process, and for the separation of parliamentary and judicial powers, and to promote my books - see them there on the bookshelf?"
At this point one of my hypothetical grandchildren will interrupt me with this question: "But Nana Bing, why didn't you call for the boycott of the Peter Rabbit movie that came out all those years ago in 2018?"
I will gather my descendant in my arms for a great big grandmotherly hug, and whisper, "Because, Honeybunch, your Nanna Bing knew about teaching kids right from wrong, and about plot devices used in works of fiction, and most of all, your Nanna Bing wasn't a. Big. Fucking. IDIOT!"
What a sweet, almost mawkish vision that imagined scene evokes. Perhaps you're wondering what's got me conjuring up such an offbeat inter-generational interchange.
Well, wonder no more. It's because people are calling for the boycott of a new movie about Beatrix Potter's fictional lagomorph wherein Farmer MacGregor is pelted with blackberries and needs an epi-pen. It seems the farmer is allergic to blackberries. Given the book was published just after the turn of the 20th century, and that the first self-administering epi-pen was invited in the mid-1970s, I kind of doubt this was featured in the original book. The film makers are not the first people to take artistic licence with Ms Potter's work: when my father read the tales many years ago, Peter Rabbit contracted myxomatosis and died. But back to the point. This scene has really raised the ire of many people on the basis it encourages and promotes allergy bullying. So let's ban it!, they say.
Look, I KNOW food allergies are not a joke, and I know there is danger and potential death in subjecting a person to a substance to which they react adversely. I KNOW this. But what I also know is that a scene like this can be taken as an opportunity to point out to people that you DON'T bombard a person with a substance to which they have a known allergy, because there are potential nasty consequences. Who's with me on this?
There is another point people are missing. This is a film about - wait for it - anthromorphic rabbits. Who's ever seen a bunch of rabbits sit down and plot out a nasty scheme against a person? I haven't.
When I was a kid watching cartoons, my mother didn't have to say, 'Simone, don't hold a lit stick of dynamite in your hand like that silly old coyote is doing.' This was not owing to the general unavailability of dynamite, but because we just weren't stupid back then.
The powers that be responsible for this movie have actually apologised for this scene. To use a pithy cliché: this sets a dangerous precedent. Do people seriously not understand fictional plot devices that are used to make things happen in stories anymore? We will soon be no longer able to write crazy scenes because someone will lose their shit over it. Peaceful conflict resolution is important in the real world, but why can't people just let stories be stories?
Oh, and today the Prime Minister has issued what's known as a 'Bonk Ban' among the ministers and their staffers. Sigh. Look, if they're consenting adults then it's nobody's bloody business. What are you going to do? "Pull it out, pull up your pants, and clear out your desk: you're fired!" Yeah, right.
Why to go, Turdball. I'd rather your cabinet and staff fuck each other, not the country.
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