Andrea Edwards

I’ve arrived in Amsterdam and after seven years, it’s been wonderful catching up on life with Saskia and Eylard. No idea where seven years went? But to get here, I had to endure 13 hours in economy class at the back of a plane. One of the challenges about flying to Europe from Singapore is a lot of people are journeying on from the Antipodes, which means a great number of passengers have already been on the road 10+ hours and the stench is palpable. But the main challenge is being surrounded by a bunch of people with plane food already in their guts, which adds another dimension – plane farts! My God I was gagging! Hideous stuff. But there was one great thing. I got to watch three movies! I haven’t been able to enjoy many movies since two mini-men came into my life, so it was absolute luxury. First was “Bad Teacher” starring Cameron Diaz and Justin Timberlake, and I have to say, what a bloody funny movie. Superb comedy and definitely have a look if you get a chance. Second was a quirky little British movie called “Submarine,” the story of a teenage boy who wants to lose his virginity and stop his Mum having an affair with a new age spiritual type with a mullet. An incredibly clever movie, full of fantastic characters, and Noah Taylor plays the dorky Dad to perfection. It’s awkward and witty and brilliant. Check it out. I almost finished X-Men as well – but I missed Hugh. But now, having recovered from my flight and not feeling too bad after excessive wine consumption last night, I’m off for a day of fine Dutch weather and fun with the birthday girl. It’s so lovely being back in Europe and hanging out with Sas really is soup for the soul. There’s nothing better than great friends in life. So Happy 40th my friend – thrilled to be able to share it with you. Yours, without the bollocks Andrea PS: I miss my three boys…. a week feels such a long time away

Well after much torment – because when I make a commitment to do something, I do it – I have decided not to pursue my teams of International Spunks and International Ugly Bastards (or Those with Nice Personalities,) in the way I originally set out. Taking my lead from you, my precious readers, it just hasn’t generated enough interest. When I write about the shite in my life, I get lots of support and comments, which is very much appreciated. When I explore my head from a religion/spirituality perspective, it seems to resonate with many. When I write book reviews, it gets a bit of interest from friends equally voracious about their reading materials. When I write about vaginas or anuses, well, those blogs are still being read and regularly popping up in searches!!! So I reckon I’ll throw in the towel on this project now, because it is a shitload of effort compiling this information, and if it ain’t going to get read and no one’s going to vote, I’ll just be heartbroken. Naturally, I will continue to compile my teams in my head, because it really does make rugby so much more enjoyable. It also doesn’t help that I am a mother, and the father in this equation is much more of a rugby head than I, so it is only fair that every four years I make it possible for him to watch as much rugby as possible – thus taking on child responsibilitys reduces perving opportunities significantly. The things we do for love? But I do not mind. Steve has always shared the parenting load. Here is a compilation of photos that I believe represents why I love this game. Men in all their muscular glory has always been my thing. If you’re interested, my International Team of Spunks is below, and I’ve made it possible for you to go and check them out, although I don’t think they look as great in these pictures as they do when they play. Yours, without the bollocks Andrea My absolute favourite spunk – Alesana Tuilagi – Samoa My second favourite spunk – Ma’a Nonu – NZ Victor Matfield – Sth Africa Morné Steyn – Sth Africa Mike Phillips – Wales Jamie Roberts – Wales Joe Ansbro – Scotland Ally Strokosch – Scotland Richie McCaw – NZ Dan Carter – NZ – definitely think he’s gotten better with age. Was too pretty for me before  Saia Faingaa – Aus – his brother doesn’t have the lovely locks Nathan Sharpe – Aus – I just love him, a true gentleman of the game AdamAshley-Cooper – Aus David Pocock – Aus Quade Cooper – Aus – he’s got something, although he’d pull his finger out of his arse this weekend! Alisi Tupuailai – Japan Toetuu Taufa – Japan Bryce Robins – Japan Brian O’Driscoll – Ireland Cian Healy – Ireland – huge fan of his thighs Tasesa Lavea – Samoa AnthonyPerenise – Samoa Maurie Faasavalu – Samoa Ofisa Treviranus – Samoa GeorgePisi – Samoa Manaia Salavea – Samoa Pat Danahy – USA ScottLaValla – USA Todd Clever – USA Alexander Voytov – Russia Andrey Ostrikov – Russia AlexeyMakovetskiy – Russia Nick Easter – England Shontayne Hape, England – Shontayne? Courtney Lawes – England, although who calls a son Courtney? James Haskell – England Fulgence Ouedraogo – France Romain Millo-Chluski – France Albert James Vulivuli – Fiji Sakiusa Matadigo – Fiji Felipe Contepomi – Argentina And last, but not least, because I just love him, Piri Weepu gets on my team Overall spunkiest team – Samoa. And best ears I think has to go to Danie Rossouw of Sth Africa. Here’s a selection of Danie Rossouw pictures to give you an idea. He is closely followed by Simon Shaw of England. PS: to the teams missed, my apologies. I couldn’t get you all!

In July 2010 we got some news that shook our world. For the first six months of that year, Lex was being physically and verbally abused by his teacher at his pre-school in Australia. As far as we know, the abuse included hitting, kicking, throwing shoes at him, putting tape over his mouth, making him sleep outside in the sun, kicking sand at him, and more. We’ve never gotten to the bottom of what actually happened, because everyone zipped up in an effort to protect themselves – the school was in the process of being sold, so everyone was “gagged” and threatened with losing their jobs if the sale got screwed up. There was one exception, Amanda, the lady who was brave enough to report it and went through a lot of shit because she stood up – including losing her job. As far as we know, the government department responsible has done nothing, the police thought it was no big deal, and the teacher is still teaching. It was one of the main reasons we left Australia. Two cheeky boys We obviously went through a shocking time coming to terms with it. As I was the primary school ‘dropper-off-erer,’ I beat myself up for a long time because I didn’t see any resistance from Lex going into school. Did I miss something? Then I wondered is it because he thinks that’s how things are? That’s how you get treated in the world? It was a confusing, heart-breaking, and very tough time for all of us to get through. Coming back to Singapore really gave us a chance to move on from that time. I know people deal with a lot worse, but that was pretty rock bottom for us. Our beautiful little lad had been hurt by someone and we couldn’t do anything about it. Sure we could’ve gone legal, but I drew the line at that – mainly because I really do believe it is a process that screws you up more than anything else – it’s ugly and no one wins in the end. I also couldn’t rely on witnesses, because many of them had witnessed this abuse towards other children for the past seven years without saying anything, so why would they stand up and speak now? My trust in this community was long gone. So we decided we needed to move on and focus on giving Lex the best life we could. We wanted to show him that the world is a gentle place and that he is loved beyond measure. We work hard to reassure him every day, but are we doing enough? Yesterday we got called into the school. For the past couple of weeks, Lex has been very physical with the teachers and they’ve had enough. One of the reasons right now is that his efforts to speak are creating frustration, but also embarrassment. However, we know that the deep reason is linked back to the abuse. A child psychiatrist said we can expect a recurrence of bad behaviour until he is about six or seven years old, and the main challenge will be an inability to trust outside the home. We know he hasn’t recovered from it, but in many ways, we don’t know what to do about it, other than what we are already doing. Hey we’re just parents trying to do the best for our lads, but we’re not kid experts. Yesterday his gorgeous teacher said “it’s like he’s constantly pushing us, testing us, asking us to prove to him that we do love and care about him.” Then she said something that really shook me – “it’s like he hasn’t got any self worth.” You know our biggest priority in raising our kids is to help them be confident. We think this is the most important asset a human being can have. And here we are with a little lad struggling with his own self worth. That perspective really made so much sense to me. Of course it’s about self worth. Why wouldn’t it be? During a pivotal time in his life, when he couldn’t hear properly or speak, he felt unsafe outside his family unit… I try not to get angry about what happened – I think it is pointless – but man oh man, sometimes I wish I could….! But none of it matters now, all that matters is I/we do all we can to help Lex fully love and value himself, and so the next round of finding the right specialists begins…. It’s certainly stirred up a lot of emotions this week though. Bloody kids I tell ya!! Yours, without the bollocks Andrea

It was just over 12 months ago when Lex had the operation to have his tonsils and adenoids removed, plus grommets inserted.  Since that day, we have noticed significant changes in him – both a willingness to do as he’s told more often AND his behaviour has constantly improved – generally he’s just gotten calmer. BUT he’s still not speaking properly. He understands most of the time – WE THINK – and he’s working his arse off to get the words out, but we’ve got a way to go. I’ve definitely become accustomed to him communicating his needs physically – but it’s very challenging not being 100 percent confident in what your child wants or understanding how they’re feeling. It’s almost five years now, and as Jax’s speech goes from strength to strength, I’m starting to appreciate what it is like having a child who can communicate with me. In fact, when people say “all you want is for your kids to speak and then when they do, you want them to shut up” – in Jax’s case, I finally appreciate this sentiment. Man that kid doesn’t stop! But after verbal silence for so many years, it’s really lovely too. I just wish he’d reduce the decibels sometimes…. and perhaps his expressive use of the F word…. I watch other parents speaking with their kids and feel a little pang of jealousy. I want that. I want to speak with Lex. I want to know what he thinks, understand how he feels, know his opinions on people, as well as the issues affecting him. I want to know when people embarrass him, because this is a big deal for Lex. However, because he hasn’t been able to tell people to piss off verbally, he has reacted physically, and this is usually when the trouble starts. He’s just an extremely sensitive lad and embarrassing him is not good – most people don’t seem to pay attention to that though. I do because I’m the same. As is Steve. We are definitely getting there, in a garbled kind of way, as he tries to pull sentences together, with some Lexy words filling the gaps. He started speech therapy a few weeks back and it’s making such a difference. I honestly didn’t think one session a week could do anything for him, because we do so much for him every day, but it’s focused him on his need to speak and as such, it’s really helping. He’s trying harder than ever before. Because Lex couldn’t hear properly for so long (and we have no idea how long), he’s always just gotten on with whatever he wants to get on with. Most of the time it’s death defying climbing stunts that leave us unable to relax – ever. We can’t let him run off and do what he wants, because we’ll probably find him at the top of a pole or on a roof. It’s just who he is. I think this is the biggest challenge for us. Because we can’t communicate what the real dangers are, we can’t let him go and be totally free. We just don’t know if he appreciates what is reasonable and what is out of the question because he can’t tell us that he does appreciate danger…. ahhhhhhh! Suffice to say, it’s been bloody hard, and the truth is – I just want him to speak. I need him to speak. I will feel he is safer when he speaks, because I can say ‘hey mate, don’t do that OK?’ And if he says ‘OK mum, roger that,’ then I can relax just a little bit more. We’re at about 50/50 on that front right now, but even that is a significant improvement on 12 months ago. Then I think of all the other parents whose children may never be able to speak, and my heart goes out to them. In the last five years, I’ve completely understood that communication is the most important thing for me with my kids. But at least I know Lex will communicate, and it’ll be very soon. But my oh my, if I think about the first five years of my little man’s life, the word frustration springs to mind – his and mine. Our kids are definitely sent to test us and most parents have at least one experience to share! At least I’ve never doubted him along the way. I’m proud of that. Yours, without the bollocks Andrea

I just finished reading “Oprah, a Biography” by Kitty Kelley – updated and revised. First of all, let me explain. I needed to get away from the serious stuff I’ve been reading of late, and while I was rarely an Oprah voyeur, I thought the book would be interesting, considering she is one of the most intriguing and successful women in the world – I mean let’s face it, she’s been a busy girl this last 25 years. But I have to say, I didn’t like it. Not being Oprah-endorsed, it was a ‘she said, he said’ kind of yarn and boy is there some bitterness out there. Reassured that it will be a gripping read and “a page-turner” as People Magazine claims on the front cover, I just found a lot of it pretty pointless, unworthy and trashy rubbish. I think people of Oprah’s calibre exist on such a different stratosphere to the rest of us, so when people write about them in books like this, it brings all sorts of ugliness to the surface – because can anyone truly know what it’s like to be Oprah? Don’t get me wrong, a book like this certainly shouldn’t be sycophantic, but some opinions come from pretty dubious places, and as “they” say, opinions are like arseholes, every bugger has one. Getting into the book, how can you start a discussion about Oprah without mentioning her weight? She definitely has the most talked about weight “problem” in the world, but on the whole, I just found it horrible, awful and shitty that anyone’s personal issues are so widely discussed, and she herself, so horribly mocked. I mean how do we expect women to overcome personal image issues when we embrace these sorts of media onslaughts? The main reason it’s so impactful is the book covers all of the weight discussions that have ever been printed, all nicely wrapped together in one place. I found it a pretty horrific part of her story. Can you imagine being spoken of like that, every single day of your life? Over her 25 year career, so the story goes, Oprah went from having a pet cockroach, abandoned by her mother, molested and abused, treated like trash by men, and so much more. It’s not the nicest story to read. However, as far as her early childhood memories go, apparently her family say it’s all bullshit. Well we all know that truth is subjective, and while those in our immediate lives might disagree with our memories, it is still our own truth. Sure over the years, her life stories have changed and evolved – but doesn’t everyone’s? And let’s face it, some people are pretty motivated to go after her, as there is a lot of money in the bank, but there are also those eager to defend themselves, because they were there when bad shit happened. All in all, I found this aspect rather tedious. Maybe one day Oprah will eventually release her own autobiography and we can get her story, which will still be her own truth and probably differ from many in her life. Let’s face it, there is no such thing as truth, just perceptions afterall. If nothing else, it will certainly create a media storm. Over the years, Oprah went from being a media available darling, to having complete control over media access. When you read the stories throughout her life and how the press represented everything she said and did, is it any surprise? Shit, if I was her and had her millions, I’d wrap myself up in all the protection I could afford. Many people, who go from rags to riches, learn the hard way – initially they expose themselves to the press, which is a good career move, but after a torrent of negative publicity, they quickly learn to protect themselves. I ain’t saying Oprah is an angel. Sure she screwed up plenty of times along the way, where good things went sour or great ideas turned out to be not so well thought out, but that is as human as it gets. Many in the book who criticise her didn’t get the beacon of Oprah’s approval. This is definitely apparent with her book club, because apparently if you get the O on your cover, a millionaire you will be. But hey, she can’t cover everyone and from where I’m standing, she’s not obligated to. Throughout her life, people pissed her off or offended her, and from that day on, they had no more access to Oprah. Sometimes it seemed tedious on Oprah’s behalf, sometimes fair enough, but I can say one thing – this is a woman who knows how to hold a grudge – yikes. But Oprah has power – a LOT of power, and I think more than anything, this is the issue. People have had to tiptoe around her for years and this is the crux of many of the issues raised in this book. You want to win, Oprah can be your champion or she can screw you completely. Beware. The one thing no one can get past is that Oprah has done AMAZING things in her career. She’s gotten taboo subjects talked about – rape, sex, prostitution, teenage pregnancy, incest, body image, etc… She has donated incredible amounts of money to charities around the world – more than most earn in a lifetime. She’s gotten people thinking about new things, in a new way – especially spirituality, a big priority for her. She’s challenged conventional thinking and an entire generation of “housewives” have been motivated and inspired by her – most of whom are incredibly grateful. She is passionate, human, caring, inspirational, aspirational, and more, but she’s also a super star and with that comes lots of other quirky shit us mere mortals could never understand. I think the main issue Oprah has faced is intellectualism. Criticism come from elements in the media who think her stuff is trash BUT her

Well I’ve finally realised what a massive task I’ve set myself in coming up with an “International Team of Spunks,” and the newly named “International Team of Lovely Personalities.” I had to rename the ugly team, because somehow, when an ugly bastard plays rugby, he looks quite hot – well to me anyway. It’s such a manly, visceral game don’t you think? However this task is an intense process and requires me to watch a lot of rugby! Steve doesn’t mind of course, but really, I have better things to do with my time. The first round of matches is important, because that’s when everyone gets to play and to ensure we truly do develop two international teams, I have to watch as much as I can. We missed out on the first round of games because my husband failed to get the TV service installed that covered it – doh! So less time to survey the field. I’ve enjoyed some of the rugby, but at this stage, it’s not really the exciting stuff – the Haka’s aren’t as passionate, the competition too one sided, but it’s also evolving and improving as the teams are getting better together, so it’s all positive from here. The Ireland vs Australia game was depressing and Argentina were brutal against England. Anyone with the luck of facing Fiji, Tonga or Western Samoa certainly know it after the games – blood sport is all I can say –  and I fully appreciate why it is considered the second most dangerous sport in the world. The Russia vs US game was interesting.  America was all high fives and the Russians more sombre, not even singing their anthem in tune. But don’t the Russians have the physiques of fridges? My word. Dan Vickerman gave us a lovely show when we saw his underpants and tight buttocks in the 20th minute against Ireland, and I have to say, Adam Ashley Cooper of Australia has a very nice arse. The Irish supporters were superb, the US fans mildly entertaining, the commentary teams are doing well pronouncing all the names, and all in all, it’s a feast for the eyes and senses. Below I’ve started tabulating the names. Anything to add? Not all countries are represented yet, but I will get there I promise. I also need to start putting numbers/positions with each name to come up with a selection covering every position on the field. Oh dear, the challenges I set myself. So would you like to share your favourite moment to date? Yours, without the bollocks Andrea Nominees to date include: You can check everyone out at the official RWC11 site Spunks Victor Matfield – Sth Africa Morné Steyn – Sth Africa Mike Phillips – Wales Jamie Roberts – Wales Joe Ansbro – Scotland Ally Strokosch – Scotland Pat Danahy – USA Scott LaValla – USA Todd Clever – USA Alexander Voytov – Russia Denis Antonov – Russia Andrey Ostrikov – Russia Alexey Makovetskiy – Russia Richie McCaw – NZ Ma’a Nonu – NZ Victor Vito – NZ Richard Kahui – NZ Sekope Kepu – Aus Saia Faingaa – Aus Anthony Faingaa – Aus Nathan Sharpe – Aus Adam Ashley-Cooper – Aus David Pocock – Aus Quade Cooper – Aus – he’s got something! Alisi Tupuailai – Japan Toetuu Taufa – Japan Bryce Robins – Japan Brian O’Driscoll – Ireland Cian Healy – Ireland – huge fan of his thighs Alesana Tuilagi – Samoa Tasesa Lavea – Samoa Anthony Perenise – Samoa Maurie Faasavalu – Samoa Ofisa Treviranus – Samoa George Pisi – Samoa Manaia Salavea – Samoa Nice Personalities Gurthrö Steenkamp – Sth Africa Shalck Burger – Sth Africa Adam Jones – Wales Stephen Jones – Wales Moray Low – Scotland David Zirakashvili – Georgia Alexander Todua – Georgia Mike MacDonald – USA Sergey Popov – Russia Andrey Garbuzov – Russia Keven Mealamu – NZ Piri Weepu – NZ – although I love him! Sam Whitelock – NZ Colin Slade – NZ Andrew Hore – NZ Tatafu Polota-Nau – Aus Kurtley Beale – Aus Stephen Moore – Aus Yusuke Aoki – Japan Jerry Flannery – Ireland Paul O’Connell – Ireland Sean Cronin – Ireland Damien Varley – Ireland Census Johnston – Samoa Logovi’i Mulipola – Samoa We also need to acknowledge some other aspects of the game and give appropriate awards. Best Hair Toby Faletau – Wales Adam Jones – Wales Givi Berishvili – Georgia Viktor Kolelishvili – Georgia Louis Stanfill – USA – he’s got a mullet AND a porn star mo! Todd Clever – USA Sergey Popov – Russia Radike Samo – Aus – so far, the winner I think – what a ‘fro! Saia Faingaa – Aus – shows that braids can look cool Toetuu Taufa – Japan Alesana Tuilagi – Samoa – shows that braids can look tough Tasesa Lavea – Samoa Census Johnston – Samoa Maurie Faasavalu – Samoa Best Beard Adam Jones – Wales David Zirakashvili – Georgia Pat Danahy – USA – aka Ned Kelly Ben Alexander – Aus Tatafu Polota-Nau – Aus Yuji Kitagawa – Japan Naoki Kawamata – Japan Logovi’i Mulipola – Samoa Seilala Mapusua – Samoa Best Ears Scott Lawson – Scotland Keven Mealamu – NZ Tony Woodcock – NZ Paul O’Connell – Ireland Best Porn Star Mo Louis Stanfill – USA Mike MacDonald – USA Kurtley Beale – Aus Pat McCabe – Aus Yuji Kitagawa – Japan Juan Manuel Leguizamón – Argentina Face Brazilian Alisi Tupuailai – Japan Ryukoliniasi Holani – Japan When I get time, I’m going to add best tats, best arse, best thighs and spunkiest ref. But enough already!

Our new helper Eve starts with us today. She’s a lovely, smiley lady, and we’re expecting great things. We signed the papers for her to become our employee on Friday, but until we have official approval, we were told she had to stay at a “boarding house.” All weekend I’ve been getting texts from Eve about the three nights of misery she’s had to endure, saying the experience is like being in prison. The “boarding house” is someone’s home, and the girls – there were about nine of them staying there – had to sleep in the laundry, with no pillows, no mattresses and no fans. Additionally, when the lady of the house needed to do the washing, they had to stay in that hot, sweaty room and get even hotter and sweatier. For dinner, they were given sardines, and they were locked in and not allowed to leave. This is the sort of thing that really makes me go grrrrrrrr, so today when we collect Eve, I can promise you that the agency using this woman to board their girls is certainly going to get a tongue lashing. I mean, is it really that hard to treat people with a little dignity? I appreciate that things are done very differently in different parts of the world, I really do, and I also understand that I do not fully appreciate all of the aspects involved, but please, give the girls a bloody bed, pillow, fan and something nourishing to eat. They’re paying $10 a night for the privilege, so a little bit of comfort should be a minimum. Sometimes I wonder why cows getting slaughtered in Indonesia gains more coverage (and outrage) than people being treated like shit. And this case is nothing compared to some of the horrendous situations human beings are enduring all over the world! Yours, Without the Bollocks Andrea

What can I say – it’s been a weird and very emotional week. Knowing that someone I love has suffered such a huge and devastating loss while there is little I can do, is not an easy thing to accept. When you feel this way, you wander through the world, not really part of it. Anyone who has experienced grief – or been close to it as is my case this week – knows what I mean. When you feel like this, any bitching, moaning, judgement, etc.. is even more unwelcome than usual, because when you hear it, you want to shake that person and say, how can you complain? How can you judge? Don’t you know what happened this week? But we are all wrapped up in our own lives and often so busy, we get consumed and often don’t spend time thinking of others. We all have our own problems to deal with and one of the life lessons I’ve learned on this journey is this – all problems are relevant to the person experiencing them. They may not be as big as some are suffering, but they are still relevant. I came to this epiphany when I’ve felt guilty about moaning about my own lot, because I have seen human suffering on a scale that’s blown my mind – yet I haven’t even seen the worst this world has to offer, like the camps in Darfur. But my problems and concerns are relevant to me, and therefore relevant. I have a right to them. As does everyone. This week I feel more connected to the worst the world has to offer and I have to say, I don’t like it. So I’ve been asking myself, how can I do something to help the little Tracey’s of the world live? How can I really make a difference? You see, I believe I can make a difference. That I can do something significant. I don’t know what it is yet, but I’ll be sure to tell you when I do know, because I’ll be looking for support. I’ve decided that I’m going to get really really busy, because if I want to change the world, then I need the power and connections to do so. Don’t worry, I won’t be entering politics – never understood why anyone would do that – but I’ll find a way, somehow. All I know is that I need to do more. Yours, without the bollocks Andrea

I woke up today with Vick’s news going around and around in my head. It’s definitely hit me harder today than when I first heard about it. Vick lost her baby daughter, Tracey, yesterday – a little girl who had been on this planet for only six weeks. Tracey had been a sickly bubba since birth, but because Vick lives in a poor part of the Philippines, her daughter got sub-standard care and died because she had an allergic reaction to some antibiotics. Vick asked the doctors not to give the medicine to her daughter, but because doctors are still Gods in this part of the world, they ignored Vick and killed her daughter. The worst part is – she didn’t need to die. I can still hear the roar of grief in Vicky’s voice when we spoke yesterday, and that is probably why I keep finding myself in tears. It is unbearable to think that anyone you love is going through such a horrendous time, especially when I’m so far away and completely useless to her right now. All I have is words. Vicky is a lady who deserved to be a mother more than anyone I know. She took beautiful care of my boys and our family for two and a half years, and before that, she spent nearly 15 years taking care of and loving other people’s children in Singapore. She is a wonderful person, someone I have missed keenly, and I was delighted that at long last, it was her turn to enjoy motherhood. I’m finding myself going from grief to anger today, because why is this world so unfair? If Tracey was born in Singapore, or Australia, or anywhere else where healthcare is affordable and of a high standard, she would be alive. But she’s not, and millions of women all over the world are suffering unbearable heartache while their governments continue to be corrupt and instead of making their countries better for their people (which is their job), they are spending trillions of dollars on weapons, killing neighbours and starting wars, when the only thing that matters to the majority of people in this world is living with peace, love and harmony. I think women need to take back the mantle of power from men – they’ve had their time and keep fucking it up. Maybe if women rule, we can get refocused on the things that matter, like making sure everyone enjoys a minimal standard of living and that every community has access to a hospital that is equipped with the best doctors, equipment and standards of hygiene? It really shouldn’t be too much to ask. The grief of losing a child is probably the most unbearable grief I could imagine and I just wish that I could have done more for Vick, and for any woman facing this situation. I feel I have so much with my two beautiful lads and the benefits I have had all my life because I won the life lotto of being born in the first world. Vick didn’t win that lotto. In the meantime Vicky my darling, I’m thinking of you every day, mourning with you for your little treasure, and I hope you can find some solace during this time to help you through. Your unbending faith in God is sure to help you right now and just know that my family love you and we are here for you always. Yours, without the bollocks Andrea

A little while ago I came across Slut Walks following a Mona Gable Blogpost, which led me to the original NYT article it was based on, by Rebecca Traister.  Somehow I missed all of the coverage around SlutWalks and found it a very intriguing idea. It’s also been rattling around in my head ever since and I wanted to write my thoughts down, but I just haven’t had the time or headspace to get my thinking together. So here goes. For those equally oblivious to these events, SlutWalks came about when a Toronto police officer told a group of college women in May this year that if they wished to escape sexual assault, they should avoid dressing like sluts. Idiot. It actually reminded me of the South Australian judge who, many years ago during a rape trial between a husband and wife, said that “no really can mean yes.” He wasn’t popular. Anyways, as a result of the Toronto cop making this stupid statement, men and women have marched in more than 70 cities around the world, often dressed in “sluttish” attire. It’s not an activity that made it to Singapore suffice to say… Well I don’t think it did? Both Mona and Rebecca raise this issue quite delicately, with neither convinced that marching the streets in a pair of panties is the way to deal with the situation, but then, what is appropriate? One thing that has always pissed me off is the question in a rape trial – what were you wearing? Like that has absolutely ANYTHING at all to do with rape. I’ve met many rape victims (and have almost been one myself twice) and you know what, some dress sexily, some as modest as can be – and every time I hear this question, I want to scream to the judge and the media often supporting the idea – “if we all dress in ankle length floral kaftans not dissimilar to a tent, will you then finally accept that it is the man’s responsibility?” And if it’s continued to be positioned as women’s fault, you have to ask – do the Arabs have it right by recognising men can’t control themselves, and therefore the women must take responsibility by covering up and dressing in burkas?” Also, if it is women’s responsibility, does that mean the West is as full of sexual repression as is reportedly the case in the Arab world? I unequivocally believe that it is NEVER a woman’s fault for being raped. We do not ask for it. We do not attract it by how we dress. We do not deserve it for being free and easy. The only thing women are guilty of is having a vagina (besides other orifices). I mean, can’t people see the contradiction with how we view our so-called progressive world alongside archaic beliefs like this? So much for women’s lib! Men who rape are responsible for their own actions, but some claim they cannot control themselves. Somewhere along the way in a rapists life, one experience (or many) happened that taught them violence was OK, or that women were inferior, or that control is something appealing, or that sexually dominating people was horny, or they were sexually abused by someone they trusted, or they watched their mother raped by their father, or considered the scenes in porn movies where women enjoyed having a 15 inch dildo shoved up her rear the norm, or whatever… And there is another element to look into – the “sickness” within society at large that creates “these” people, rather than laying all of the blame with the victims. Or is it in the genes as some claim? The reality is – this situation isn’t straight forward no matter how strongly I believe that women are not responsible for rape. So I decided to do a bit of “market research” and asked Steve – why do men rape? He said he had absolutely no idea how any man could enjoy forcing a woman sexually, let alone being physically capable of sustaining an erection while forcing themselves upon a woman. OK I said, let’s talk about that no-turning-back-point you get to, where there’s a promise of sex, or we’re getting hot and steamy and something happens – the boys interrupt, for example. I have watched this point occur a few times, and for me, no big deal if we get interrupted. But for Steve, he goes from angry to hurt and back to angry again for about 24 hours afterwards and it can be rather uncomfortable. Thankfully, he’s more of a sulker about it, but it’s a pretty powerful reaction to observe and one I am unable to appreciate fully. It’s just not like that for me and I presume, most women.   Steve explained “it’s like my whole body is surging with testosterone, every muscle is pumped up with it, and until I can get that release I am consumed by it.” I asked another friend Dave, who is equally respectful of women and he said pretty much the same thing. And you see, I believe this is the point we are talking about – that all consuming physical reaction. Fortunately, the majority of men on the planet have had an appropriate upbringing that teaches them to control that urge and not lash out when they don’t get their “release” (even if sulking might follow). Unfortunately some men have not learnt that control. For me, this is the fundamental issue. Women are being blamed for men reaching that point and their inability to control themselves. What gets them there? A woman is teasing them or perceived to be? They are getting on well with a woman and the night is looking promising? A porno? Who knows! I don’t know what happens to make a man capable of rape, BUT the role of women should be deemed irrelevant, because men should be responsible for themselves and know what is, and what is not, appropriate