Jane Austen’s image is going on the £10 note, so the trolls who threatened to rape Caroline Criado-Perez and Stella Creasy for their part in making it happen must be looking for new targets.
Coins of the realm
The £10 note is a British thing. In California, you can’t even use one to pay for a Starbucks mocha frappacino. I know. I’ve tried. So I’m guessing that at least some of you misogynist-trolls – miso-trolls? – are British.
Have you looked at your coins recently? There’s a woman on them! In fact, she’s your Queen, Head of your Commonwealth, and Defender of your Faith!
But, seriously, lads: do not troll the Queen. She has a Household Cavalry at her command. You don’t want some dude galloping his horse up to your man-cave and stabbing you with a sword.
In Parliament, on the podium
You might have missed this while waiting for the Internet to be invented so you could start trolling, but a woman was Prime Minister (Primus Minister) of your country from 1979 to 1990.
Talk about persuasive! Margaret Thatcher could talk the hind leg off a donkey, or his own ideas out of a cabinet member, which was a lot handier, since most governments, ours included, contain at least a few more human beings than donkeys.
But I wouldn’t miso-tweet those women either, if I were you. They’re wicked fit.
Science: also for men only
They’ve all gone now to that great science laboratory in the sky, but you can still trash their reputations. Go to it! Maybe you can get their Nobel prizes revoked posthumously.
Doing the books
I’m guessing you’re okay with “chick lit.” It gives women something to turn to during the few moments when they’re not doing housework, instead of trying to talk to you (which, spare you, right?).
The Man Booker prize is about as weighty and thoughtful as books get. True, it’s only available for novels written in English by a citizen of the Commonwealth of Nations, Ireland, or Zimbabwe, but it’s well prestigious, and the winner gets £50,000, which buys a lot of Starbuck’s mocha fraps.
But in 2009 and again in 2012, a woman named Hilary Mantel won the prize, despite the fact that it’s called the MAN Booker. Also Anne Enright in 2007, Margaret Atwood in 2000, Arundhati Roy in 1997, Pat Barker in 1995 …
But don’t tweet rape threats to these women. I know writers. I’m one myself. They’d be all, “Oh, tediosity. A miso-troll tweet. I wonder if I should … wait, I could have that happen to my genetic transposition scientist! There’s the conflict I’ve been looking for in chapter three!”
And she’ll be off Twitter and into her novel, and there you’ll be, just so much fodder for another prize-winning work of art.
The fish and nuts course
I haven’t helped you much, have I? That could be because I’m just a woman, frail of frame and feeble of brain, who should get off the Internet already and go scrub a toilet. Or it could be because I think you’re frightened, intellectually stunted little man-kids and a disgrace to your handsome and distinguished gender.
I also think you should stop fretting about uppity women – if you think we’re up now, just wait a few generations – and direct your attention to a real threat to your most precious parts. Not-so-gentle men, meet the pacu (Myleus Pacu).
P.S.
Don’t miso-tweet that I should go scrub a toilet. I’ve already done that today. I’ve also washed a load of laundry, tidied the house, commiserated with a friend, bought groceries, shopped for two birthday gifts, and written this blog post. Now I’m going to do four hours of software testing for my client. And don’t tweet any rape threats either. Really, I haven’t got the time.
Equidem, non habetis tempus.
