Plans for a lap-dancing club on West Street have been slapped down by council planners.
Protesters are jubilant. They say lap-dancing is not just a bit of harmless tickle yer fancy; that sexual entertainment clubs add to a culture which treats women as sex objects.
Me too. They fool men into believing that girls sticking everything out and acting like they’re really loving being gawped at by some smelly bloke they wouldn’t give the time of day to if he wasn’t about to tuck 20 quid down their g-string, really mean it. And that other women should act that way. Not necessarily hang upside down from a pole, but slide into all manner of sexual positions while pouting lasciviously in grateful exchange for a Dominos pizza.
I don’t see how anyone can argue with that. Though there are plenty who find a way of contorting things to portray lap-dancing from a different angle. Like the girl with a switch-off button in her brain, tripped by the desire to earn easy money who tells you it empowers women. Eh? What’s wrong with being a cleaner and keeping your knickers on?
Like the moronic men who DO see women as meat, though rarely get it. And let’s not forget the club owners making lots of money out of the aforementioned.
Though, I reckon protesters needn’t have made a song and dance. Little lap-dancing clubs open all guns blazing, then fizzle out. They either can’t keep their licenses, or, just like the grubby old man in the corner, discover no-one is interested in them.