Just lately I’ve become a little bit enamoured of a certain columnist from The Times. Listen, I don’t buy newspapers – I rarely even watch The News for fear of glimpsing a headline so shocking that it might just prompt me to board up my doors and windows and stick my fingers in my ears until after the apocalypse.
I admit I slipped and my eye caught this “The teenage Good Samaritan beaten so badly his parents could not recognise him”, thank God the Telegraph kindly balanced it out with “Teen accidentally sends a Jamie Oliver Chilli Beef recipe as job application” – just about put the smile back on my face!
But I digress. My mum and dad get The Times now and I have the occasional flick through the colour supp, but Mum has begun to rip out pages to pass on to my sister and I and they nearly always consist of Caitlin Moran’s weekly column. I have to admit I’m now beginning to form a slight girl crush. The woman has a way with words (as you might expect from someone dubbed ‘Columnist of the Year’ – someone who was a published author at the age of 16).
She managed to make everything from fashion to hating her own cat amusing and recognisable.
Recently she wrote a piece on the whole ‘No More Page 3’ fiasco. which was bang on the money – pretty much addressing every spuriously vented rant in opposition to the NMP3 campaign which would label feminists as “UGLY JEALOUS LESBIANS”. She gets to the heart of the matter – this is not about censorship, this is about context – or as she would label it, having a topless model jaunting about in amongst serious news stories is “demented admin”, “incorrect filing”.
So I Wikipedia-ed her (poor woman, I’m in full cyber stalker mode here) and discovered that, in 2014, her Twitter feed was (controversially) added to the list of English A-level set texts! This seems like an ironic twist of fate considering she was home-schooled as a teenager and probably didn’t even take A-levels herself, instead launching into a journalistic career as a writer for Melody Maker aged 16…
I’d like to say that’s something I could aspire to, but unless I’m going to start the “un-aging” process, and become the female embodiment of Benjamin Button if you will (which my 5 year old seems to think will happen anyway as he keeps asking me what kind of birthday party I’ll have when I’m five) that would be a mental and physical impossibility.
I guess I just have to accept that we can’t all be Caitlin Moran.