RUTHFULLY YOURS

‘Why can’t a woman be more like a man?’, sang Henry Higgins in the 1964 film, My Fair Lady. If there were to be a remake in 2024, the film might be called My Fair Ladyboy. It would update the story of a professor of phonetics, who turns a cockney girl into the toast of high society, into the tale of a professor of hormonology, who turns a mockney boy into the toast of café society. For today, a sizable minority of trendsetters and lawmakers think men can be just as good – if not better – at being women.

A man in a frock has even been appointed by UN Women to represent British women on the global stage. ‘Katie’ Neeves was on X last week smarming that: ‘I’m happy to announce that I’ve been accepted as a UN Women UK delegate to the United Nations Commission on the Status of Women, which is the principal global intergovernmental body exclusively dedicated to the promotion of gender equality and the empowerment of women.’

Neaves’s X handle – @cool2btrans – gives the game away. As does the name of his business, Martin Neeves Photography and Film. Presumably he retained the old name in case potential customers think kooky Katie might be less efficient.

We’ve been here before, of course. The ‘model’ Munroe Bergdorf – born Ian Beaumont to middle-class parents in the picturesque village of Stansted Mountfitchet, Essex – was appointed the first ‘UK champion’ for UN Women towards the end of last year. This understandably caused a right kerfuffle, not least because Bergdorf has shown contempt for the historical struggles for women’s rights. Infamously, he once branded the Suffragettes ‘white supremacists’ – this from an airhead who probably thinks that ‘force-feeding’ means being slipped a few hidden carbs before Marbs by an envious frenemy.

Yet still the UN jobs for the brass-necked boys in brassieres keep on coming. Women’s organisations will keep complaining, but it won’t make any difference. The whole point of giving women’s jobs to men in drag is to mock actual women – to diss the girls and make them cry, or at least howl with indignation, as 17 women’s rights organisations did over Bergdorf’s appointment.

It’s very clear what the UN and similar institutions are playing at. A while back, females seemed to be having things a little too easy for a certain sort of bitter, inadequate man. They were doing better than boys at school, able at last to control their own fertility and were even proving to be far happier when unmarried than their male counterparts. With old-fashioned misogyny being frowned upon, a ‘caring’ and ‘progressive’ way to thwart uppity women was needed (attempts at forming a ‘men’s rights’ movement were rightfully mocked). So how could men abuse women while not being accused of sexism? Simple, say: ‘We’re women, too. How can we be misogynists?’

Ricky Gervais brilliantly skewered this new sexism in his Netflix stand-up special, SuperNature:

‘Oh, women! Not all women, I mean the old-fashioned ones. The old-fashioned women, the ones with wombs. Those dinosaurs. I love the new women. They’re great, aren’t they? The new ones we’ve been seeing lately. The ones with beards and cocks. They’re as good as gold. I love them.’

A tiny minority of overpromoted crossdressers may have genuine body dysmorphia and ‘feel’ that they are female, but most anorexics think they are fat, and we don’t similarly ‘affirm’ their feelings. In any case, fewer than 10 per cent of ‘transwomen’ will seek to separate from their penis. This suggests a somewhat comfortable attitude to the most male body part imaginable, surely calling into question the validity of their claim to ‘feel’ female in the first place.

In truth, the majority of what we overly kindly call ‘transwomen’ seem to get a kinky kick out of pretending to be women. ‘Katie’ Neeves once boasted about the excitement he felt when he would steal his sister’s underwear and wear it, the charmer.

In a way, these men are easy to understand – perves gonna perve. But the people who enable and applaud them are far weirder, especially the women – or the ‘Transmaids’, as I have dubbed them. They are particularly prevalent in the Labour Party’s ranks. Lisa Nandy, who will be in the next cabinet, once stated that sex offenders who ‘identify’ as ‘transwomen’ – including the rapists of children – should be housed in women’s prisons.

With Labour women so keen to suck up to men, it’s entirely likely that the first ‘woman’ elected to the post of Labour leader will be packing a penis. It’s a great irony of identity politics that transvestites are allowed to use ‘woman’ as a costume, whereas the woke scream blue murder if some gringo so much as wears a sombrero for 10 minutes on their birthday party at a Mexican restaurant.

The more I think about the future, the more I remember another song: Zager and Evans’ 1969 hit, ‘In the Year 2525’. The doomsome twosome predicted that in said year, ‘Everything you think, do and say / Is in the pill you took today’, and that ‘Your legs got nothing to do / Some machine’s doing that for you’, and that ‘You’ll pick your son, pick your daughter too / From the bottom of a long glass tube’. But not even their lurid imaginations had an inkling that we might soon see strange days when women would increasingly be replaced in public life by men pretending to be them, and when men could ‘feed’ babies with a chemical stew, and when men with tits would play the piano with their penises on live television. No one would have believed them. But just over five centuries before its arrival was anticipated, we appear to be living the dystopian dream.