War on WAGS
There's only one Keano and her
name's Claudine. Er, who, asks Jade
Mallia.
Robbie's missus never got a
mention until the little Irishman descended on Liverpool - the
capital of WAG couture - to miss sitters and struggle to live up to
his £20 million price tag.
Fortunately for Robbie, Claudine is
excelling as Mrs Gerrard's new strike partner and after only
four months in the 'pool she has become tabloid gold. The media
have created a new caricature and role model for all WAG wannabes.
But, Claudine is no dumb blonde and
she certainly isn't defined by her model looks (although I
admit they help) - the girl has a first class economics degree and
while she probably grew-up wanting the hairstyle, wardrobe and
holidays of said WAGS she had a back-up plan to get them on her
own. Nice one - but why have we come to expect less?
Knowledge is power - if only Now and
Heat magazine portrayed this sentiment as much as celebrity
culture, maybe kids would grow-up wanting to be a nurse or lawyer
instead of a talentless Z-list celeb and maybe just maybe we'd
have more women in high power jobs.
Feminist rant over - men are just as
bad! I had the displeasure of having to listen to one of the worst
chat-up lines ever: "You know the Manchester United and
England player, Michael Carrick?" 'Yes.'
"He's my brother."
'Bothered? - but just so you
know, Carrick is from Newcastle and you have a distinct St Helens
twang, and no you don't have different dads and even if you did
I don't care. Now go away, you're invading my personal
space.'
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