THE FAIRER SEX

Short Stories on Male Privilege

No. 10

White Knight

'Chivalry is the most delicate form of contempt.'

- Albert Guerard

Arnold Pockrington-Smythe QC exited the station and headed for the taxi rank. Taxis were scarce; a common problem on Friday evenings. They appeared moreover at irregular intervals.

Arnold assessed the problem: seven people now waiting; he was number seven.

A few minutes passed, then six taxis arrived all at once. They drew up in a line, and each passenger got into their allotted taxi in an orderly fashion.

Arnold walked up to the 'taxi rank' sign to take his turn.

A seventh taxi quickly arrived; but because the first passenger was still instructing the driver, no other taxi had been able to leave the taxi rank. The seventh taxi therefore pulled up six car-lengths from Arnold.

At this point a woman left the station via the doorway close to the seventh taxi. She was talking loudly on her mobile phone.

'Screw him!', said the woman, 'Girl, what you need is a guy who'll treat you right, treat you like a queen. Take you out and spoil you. Help you into your coat, things like that. He drives up to take you out on a date. He jumps out of the driver's seat, walks around and opens the car door for you. You get in, he shuts the door, then he goes back to the driver's seat. That's the way you tell a fuckin' gentlemen, see. You shouldn't fuckin' settle for anything less.'

The woman opened the door of the seventh taxi.

Arnold took a step forward and raised his hand in remonstrance, but immediately stopped himself. It was no big deal. He wore his overcoat; this woman had bare arms and it was cold. He couldn't grab this taxi, as this woman would end up shivering, and the next taxi might be a long time coming. He'd done the right thing. He was a gentleman, after all.

As the taxis all finally drove off, Arnold saw the woman with the mobile phone grinning at him. 'Fuckin' loser!' she shouted from the open window, laughing. She made the masturbatory sign.

Unladylike behaviour certainly; but Arnold smiled back at her, and bowed slightly. A gentleman remains polite when faced with incivility. That is, after all, the very definition of a gentleman.

When Arnold finally got his taxi, it took him to a five-star restaurant where he was to dine with his wife. It was a celebratory dinner.

When he alighted, his wife approached him with an enormous smile.

'I was so pleased to get your voicemail', she said, placing her hands together and giving a little jump. 'Imagine that. I shall be the wife of a Member of Parliament. The Conservative member for East Fieldington, no less.'

'Parliamentary candidate', he corrected. 'Don't enumerate your chickens. There's the awkward preliminary of getting elected, remember'.

'It's not exactly a marginal seat! Well done. I want to know everything about your interview'.

They entered the restaurant and approached the maître d'.

'Reservation under the name Pockrington-Smythe', said Arnold Pockrington-Smythe.

Arnold looked with distaste on the maître d': blue-streaked hair; a nose ring. Incongruous in a five-star restaurant.

They followed the maître d' to a table in an alcove. There was then an awkward pause, during which the maître d' appeared a little puzzled. Why hadn't the two diners seated themselves? Arnold walked around the table and pulled the chair out, so that his wife might sit down.

'Thank you', whispered Julia, taking her seat.

Arnold turned to glare at the maître d', and found him looking at one of the waiters. He heard a distinct 'tchoch', and caught an eye-roll. Evidently the restaurant was further down the slippery slope than he'd thought.

After they were seated, his wife said: 'I supposed they asked you if you're a feminist'.

'Of course - you can't get away from that nowadays. Only one answer is permissible - you must avow party membership. And if you're a man, then it's a cue to atone for the many sins of your sex. Abjectly, course. You must appear remorseful and penitent. That's long been the case in the Labour Party, but the Conservatives are now doing it as well.'

'You know what I'd have said?' asked Julia.

'What?'

'That feminists are obnoxious bigots'.

Arnold had his wineglass at his mouth, and inhaled some wine. He needed an entire minute to right himself.

'Well obviously I couldn't say that', he said croakily. 'I equivocated instead'.

'Well, if you're going to be a politician you'll need that particular skill. In spades.'

'Before the food arrives, I should tell you that your nose is shining'.

'Oh, in that case I'll be just a minute'.

Julia stood up, and almost immediately Arnold did so too.

When Julia had walked away, Arnold sat down again.

Arnold reflected while his wife was gone.

When Julia came back, Arnold stood again, then the two of them sat down again.

He cast an eye toward the bar. The maître d' and the bartender were conferring and looking at them. Something had amused them.

'Apropos the interview', said Arnold. 'I replied that there are many varieties of feminism, and that I didn't by any means subscribe to all of them. I also told them that feminism has rather lost its way - it's been hijacked by the Left. Leftist feminism is not truly about equality, but special privileges'.

'You mean like when a man pulls the chair out from the table, so that the woman can sit down'.

'Don't tease me, please, Julia. If leftist feminists had their way, helping a woman on with her coat would be a hate crime. Or sexual harassment. Probably both'.

'Frankly I'd rather talk to Conservative feminists', said Julia. 'At least feminists on the Right are calm and reasoned. I can't handle socialist feminists - they're so intolerant! Everything I say or do is immediately politicised, judged and found wanting. It's wrong that I'm just a housewife. It's wrong that I cook and clean for my husband. It's wrong that I use make-up. It's wrong that I gave up my career to raise our two children. I'm letting other women down. I'm a quisling for the patriarchy.'

'Feminists remind me of Monty Python', said Arnold. 'There's a quiz show, at which the answer to every question is "pork". What is the name of the metal alloy made from zinc and copper? Pork. What is the capital city of Australia? Pork. Who wrote the Tale of Two Cities? Pork. The same with feminists. Why are CEOs not fifty percent women? Because of men. Why are nurses not fifty percent men? Because of men. Why are today's university students sixty percent women? Because of men. Why are plumbers and bricklayers mostly men? Because of men. Why are the homeless mainly men? Because of men - they steal all the cardboard'.

During the last couple of minutes an altercation had been developing between a couple seated at the bar. Arnold and Julia looked across toward the raised voices. The woman slapped the man in the face, then left. The man threw a ten-pound note on the bar, then chased after her.

'That's technically assault', said Julia. 'Women shouldn't slap men's faces. Or throw drinks at them, either.'

'Oh, he probably deserved it. Women don't slap a man's face without good reason. The man's probably a philanderer or a cad'.

'But is it okay for a man to slap a woman?'

'That's totally different.'

'Darling, are you sure you're not a feminist?' laughed his wife, placing her hand on his.

*        *         *         *

Early on Monday morning Arnold journeyed to work on the Northern Line. As usual there were insufficient seats, and he was forced to stand.

Arnold enjoyed his Daily Telegraph crossword during this journey, but at the same time he kept a careful eye out, in case any vulnerable passengers were inconvenienced by lack of seating.

When a pregnant woman entered the carriage and stood for two whole stops, the sight of male passengers, all comfortably seated, irritated him immensely. He gave two or three of them glares of consternation, but they did not get the message. Such ungentlemanly behaviour. The sight of a teenage boy selfishly sitting in the 'disabled' seat made his blood boil !

The pregnant woman arched her spine backward slightly, while placing her hands in the small of her back. She looked sweaty, tired and uncomfortable.

Arnold folded his newspaper.

'Excuse me', he said to the teenage boy. 'This poor lady could do with a seat.'

The boy looked up at the woman's face, then down at her abdomen.

'Sure', he said, and began to stand.

'Pregnancy isn't an illness!' shouted the pregnant woman. 'Would you do the same for a man, if he was just overweight? A woman's body has been designed for pregnancy. And I'm not a lady either, I'm a woman. "Lady" is so patronising.'

Arnold apologised, and hid his face in his newspaper. He felt smirks around the carriage directed at him.

He alighted, ascended to street level and walked to his chambers. It had rained heavily overnight, and muddy water remained in some sections of roadside guttering.

He walked on the outside, hoping his trousers wouldn't get too soiled. At least they were charcoal-coloured, unlike two or three of the female pedestrians who wore light-coloured clothes.

A passing truck splashed dirty water, and he jumped, nearly falling on two well-dressed women who were passing him on the inside.

'Haven't you got any sense? ' asked one of them. 'Why don't you walk further in from the kerb? It's so bleedin' obvious. Men have no common sense!'

Arnold entered the chambers.

'Good morning, my dear' he said to the receptionist, raising his hat slightly.

'It's not my dear', said the receptionist. 'It's Janet or it's Ms Robinson but never "my dear". I won't be patronised by a man. Do you understand?'

Arnold stood there, reddening.

'Well, do you?'

He nodded.

'And don't take your hat off for me either. I don’t need that. You wouldn't do it for a man, so don't do it for a woman. We've moved on from that.'

Arnold proceeded down the corridor toward his office, followed by another woman.

He stopped to open the fire door for her.

'Don't you dare do that!' said the woman. 'Don't you dare! I can open doors for myself, I've been doing it since I was a toddler, I don't need a man to open a door for me, I'm perfectly capable of doing it myself.'

The woman walked on, and Arnold found himself backing away, pondering his many transgressions against feminist etiquette.

While backing away he walked into another woman carrying a large box of files.

'Oh, let me help you', he said, extending his arms to take the box.

'You do know it's my job to carry these boxes of files?'

'Of course.'

'Well, why are you implying that I can't do my job?'

She turned and continued along the corridor.

Arnold backed away again and, colliding with another woman, caused her to drop her files. This time it was Gertrude Firefox QC, Head of Chambers.

He immediately stooped to pick up the documents.

'Don't you dare! said Gertrude Firefox. 'Stand up, for Christ sake. I'm perfectly able to pick them up myself. I don’t need a man to pick them up for me.'

She stooped to pick up her files.

Arnold looked at the orange streaks in her hair. They were jutting out from one of those 'pussy hats'.

He saw a title on one of the documents: Institute of Labour Lawyers.

'Come into my office, I've a few things to say'.

When they were seated, Gertude Firefox continued.

'You may not be aware of this - men usually aren't, as their sexism is so innate. I've been hearing lot about your behaviour toward our women associates, and now that I've experienced some of it myself, I can't dismiss these complaints as empty gossip. Frankly if I policed all the misogyny in these chambers I wouldn't have time for anything else. These days men are all for gender equality, that's what they like to claim anyway, but immediately equality becomes a burden or a responsibility, they rush in to rescue women. That behaviour is sexist, and I won't have it in these chambers. Men should stop oppressing women by opening doors for them, by offering to carry their luggage for them, and by giving up taxis for them. So you can cut all that chivalry crap out. You see this hat? It is a called a pussy hat. It is a symbol of support and solidarity for women's rights and political resistance.'

'Resistance to what?'

'Patriarchal oppression and male privilege. The legal profession will only have true equality through more women lawyers. There are still hardly any women in contract law, for example.'

'Do you have an idea why that is?'

'Well obviously because men are shutting women out.'

'But there are hardly any men in family law!'

'Well obviously that's because men can't be bothered with something so important. Not enough testosterone in it'.

'Pork', mumbled Arnold.

'Excuse me?'

'Oh, nothing'.

When Arnold returned home that evening he sat down to await his train.

A woman was struggling with a heavy suitcase. It was wheeled, but she had to negotiate a flight of ten steps. She pulled, rested, pulled, rested.

Seated, Arnold watched her travails for a few seconds, then opened his Telegraph.

As the woman reached the top of the stairs she walked over, stopped in front of Arnold and leaned toward his face.

'Un-fucking-believable!' she bellowed.

(c) Cufwulf

Cufwulf@aol.com