Ungentlemanly Conduct

Throughout history, there have been brave people who have risked their very lives to expose the truth. These whistleblowers have stood at a crossroads and decided the greater good is worthy of the sacrifice they are about to make. They make this decision without the full knowledge of the consequence of their actions. But their gut tells them, even though they cannot bear the load of concealment any longer, it could prove fatal to themselves and their loved ones once released.

It may shock you to learn that, today in this blog post, I am about to join this group of courageous souls.

Forget Julian Assange, hiding away in his cosy Ecuadorian embassy. I will have no place of refuge on Earth or beyond, once I have exposed a secret that is so huge, you’ll wonder how it was ever kept from yourself.

Of course, there are plenty in my brotherhood who do know this truth already. Their worlds will be turned upside down by this revelation and even if they do manage to return to their original axis, their furniture will be out of place and it is likely that ornaments will have smashed.

This is your last chance to stop reading. If you wish to remain undisturbed, return to your business right now. Go make yourself a cup of tea and listen to the Home Service on your  wireless. Walk gayly in the park and pretend that God is in his heaven and all is right with the world.

For the few of you brave enough to remain...here’s the thing.

Gentlemen: polite, courteous, generous and always putting other people first. Or are they?

No. They are not. Or maybe I should say, “we are not”, for I am often accused of gentlemanly kindness. But now, with heavy heart and much shame, it’s time to reveal our true motives.

Every single “gentlemanly” act has a sinister undertone. The real motive behind such behaviour is actually a polar opposite to what is presented to the world.

Let me explain by way of some examples:

Imagine the scene. A gentleman is walking towards a door he is planning on entering. As he gets to it, his evil gentlemanly instincts start to kick in. His highly developed receptors are tuned to maximum wickedness as they tingle with the aroma of Impulse body spray and estrogen. He can hear giggling kittens. He recalls the touch of soft, fleshy rose petals and the taste of cherry Chapstick. Then he turns to confirm what he already knows is there. A lady, also heading toward this very same door.

The normal people among you will be thinking, what’s this? Just walk on through that door mister. Go about your day and leave the pretty young lady out of it.

But the gentleman has his mind on other things. As quick as a flash he adjusts his pace, moving his feet into position, ready to perform his depraved act.

The lady has no idea she is about to walk flush into his dirty trap. She just continues walking, prettying her hair and thinking about what lovely sweet treats she can bake for her husband when he gets home from work, oblivious to the evil plan that has just been hatched a mere two feet away from her.

But it’s too late. The door is held open with a flourish as the gentleman beckons whilst uttering the chilling phrase, “after you...”.

The kindly smile on his face does nothing to betray the evil inner smirk that now spreads violently across his blackened heart. For whilst she continues her journey, grateful for not having had to touch a filthy door knob, she has not a clue that right at that moment she is being mentally ravished.

From the gentleman’s perspective, all he sees as the innocent girl passes through the door is a delicious, rounded posterior, swaying alluringly with each continuing step of its journey. It looks as though he has now let go of the door as he moves through it himself, but inside his mind he’s performing unspeakably indecent acts to that poor lady’s behind.

He may even follow her for a while, like a cat stalking a canary. But even this example falls short of the true malevolence of the situation, for the cat doesn’t imagine the canary in exotic lingerie, before pouncing and ripping her apart.

To the outside observer of this situation, nothing untoward has happened. But those in the know will feel nauseous.

The same is true in the situation where a gentleman gives up his seat for a lady in the crowded Pullman carriage of a train. A chance to rest her dainty, weary legs? Or the opportunity to have a jolly good look down her blouse whilst standing above her for the rest of the journey?

And don’t think the gentleman is above surreptitious insults. The bolder cad may remark to a lady that she’s a “fox”. In common parlance, this has become synonymous with having extremely attractive qualities. This makes the woman titter, thrilled and flattered to be noticed by a gentleman in this way.

In fact, those of us in the know realise that far from being regarded as sexually appealing, the gentleman has just called her sly and cunning, with an excessively hairy brush.

I hope that by revealing these dark truths, that ladies everywhere may feel emboldened to slap the man holding the door open for her; to call for the guard to remove the man offering his seat on the train; and to rip the face off the man comparing her to wild vermin.

May God help us all.