And so it begins… Adele.

I learned something new about women today.

It wasn’t that they are different from us (obvious) are mental (also obvious) and have no idea what makes the average lad tick (basic fact), it’s that they routinely use an attack on a lad to excuse their own bitchiness.

I stumbled across this by accident having once again become the object of ridicule by allowing a perfectly reasonable observation to leave my brain in the form of actual sound. Or, in other words, I opened my mouth before thinking.

On this occasion, the subject was Adele. Nothing to do with her songs of course because all lads know that they are little more than fuel for the bitterness powered engine which fuels most single women, but her fitness rating. For whilst discussing the age old subject of munters, someone mentioned Adele and even though I knew the in-house lad rating committee had her down as at a 4/10 (bordering on 5/10), I foolishly and without thinking said ‘I would.’

Even as the words left my mouth I knew I was lining myself up for all kinds of crap but for some inexplicable reason, I then added ‘well, she’s got something about her.’ I might as well have switched off the safety catch and pulled the trigger myself.

As a consequence of my own stupidity much of my day involved the receipt of various Adele/chubby chaser related jokes and photo-shopped pictures of the Tottenham warbler and myself indulging in various acts of depravity. Inevitably these pictures were discovered by one of the coven who also inevitably, felt the need to share these with her fellow witches. Given that my rating with the women at work is already at rock bottom, what passes for female logic immediately tagged me as the guilty party.

So to recap, I say a female is attractive and I’m subsequently accused of being a pig.

However, pondering the unfairness of this whilst enjoying my mid afternoon skive/dump it suddenly struck me that not one woman had considered the possibility that I might actually be telling the truth. And instead of agreeing with me that Adele might actually be worthy of a higher lad rating than the one she currently enjoys or acknowledging the fact that I haven’t fallen for the fake tits, pouting TOWIE look so beloved of my male workmates, they had instead attacked me. The question was why?

The answer, when it finally dawned on me, was obvious. It’s jealousy pure and simple. Deep down the average female not only fiercely resents any woman who is seemingly happy enough in her own skin to say she doesn’t really give a fuck what anyone else thinks but they begrudge the idea that any male might actually find that same woman attractive. Primarily because if they acknowledge the notion that a lad is attracted to someone who should by ‘normal’ thinking be regarded as less than desirable, what does it actually say about the rest of them and their drive to be ‘perfect’?

By wrapping this up and disguising it under the cloak of female solidarity, what they are actually doing is allowing themselves to attack one of their own in an effort to bring them back under the cloud of what is really self-imposed suppression. The added benefit being that they get to slaughter one of the male enemy. In this case, me.

Devious bastards all of them.

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