Back to the kitchen, ladies

Let’s watch this advert for The Sun, one of Britain’s biggest selling tabloid newspapers, intended to build national pride in 2012 Year of the Olympics.

Here is an athlete who is good at running. He is also a man. He is soon overtaken by a man who delivers milk and followed closely by a man who is a chef, a man who saves lives as a doctor and two more men who save lives as firemen – and look, here comes a woman!

A woman who… er, has her hair done. Followed by two women whose professions are unclear but they wear velour tracksuits and definitely carry large handbags. Women, eh?

Then it’s back to the real workers: a man who’s a judge, a couple of removal men, a postman, a football coach and… some women with buggies.

The camera pulls back to reveal a man with a briefcase, a man who’s a traffic warden, some men who play football (one injured, some not), some first aiders who are men, and… some more women with buggies.

At 0.39 we’re treated to three women in pink feather boas we can only assume are taking a break from their busy schedule of hair appointments, shopping and child raising to take part in some kind of hen night or race for life. Judging by the miniskirts and boots, I’d say the former. One of them’s wearing a pink cowboy hat for sobbing out loud.

The hairdresser, incidentally, is a flamboyant greying man in a red leather jacket, desperately trying to blow-dry a lady’s foils.

The musician is a man. The ice cream van man is a man. The surgeon is a man. The soldiers are both men. I suppose the ambiguously-gendered lollipop person could be a woman but it’s hard to tell. And I’m not really sure what this guy is meant to be, unless The Sun mistakenly transported him here from his beach holiday in 1912.

One of the athletes is a woman. She does a very nice cartwheel.

What are you trying to say, The Sun? Because I first saw this yesterday as part of a painfully middle-class and largely well-educated audience in the Curzon Soho, here’s what I’m taking from it: women can be mothers, shoppers, bridal parties and possibly lollipop ladies later in life. Men can be anything.

Great, yeah. Thanks for that. Can’t wait for Monday when I get to laze about shopping all day until it’s time to have my nails done so I can snare myself a husband and have his kids.

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PS hello, yes, I am alive. It’s been a while, how’s your mother? Good, yes, excellent. See you in another six months.