International Men's Day.
You do know what day it is today or maybe you don't. Every so often we need to be reminded of the significance of today in case it's both overlooked and forgotten. Yes folks, it's that day of the year when the men of the global population re-establish their identity because somehow the gentlemen of the world may be feeling alienated and marginalised, lost in a world that may have left them in a private room, unseen, invisible at times perhaps and never really given the recognition they probably deserve.
For as long as humanity has existed since the beginning of time, sexual conditioning has always been a complex issue. It's the men who used to leave their home at the crack of dawn, wiping the frost and ice from their frozen cars before returning to their domestic kith and kin for breakfast with their loving wife and children. Then, with briefcase or bag in their hands, newspaper next to him and a rolled umbrella if they worked in the City, they'd run towards the railway stations, jump onto a Tube or overhead train for another day at the grindstone, working themselves into the ground and toiling away frantically for hour after hour, week after week, month by month and year upon year and another year.
Today folks, it's time to celebrate International Men's Day, a ringing endorsement for masculinity, male bonding, male solidarity, vigorous virility, beating chests with manly pride and pretending that there is a place for men despite any adverse publicity to the contrary. The battle of the sexes is probably as old as time but wherever you may look, the female population will have to take a back seat today. Sorry ladies, it's time for the gentlemen of the world to become assertive again and shout it from the rooftops.
Now there is a misconception that all men are the same, lazy, lethargic and lackadaisical creatures who go to work in the morning and then come home and expect to have their dinner on the table now, pronto. They fall into the dining room, complaining and discontented, disagreeable and objectionable. Then they collapse onto the sofa, shirt, tie and trousers protesting loudly, kicking off their shoes, moaning incessantly about the total inadequacies of the train network, the endless delays on draughty platforms, the trains that were cancelled for the umpteenth time and then the annoying wait for the aforesaid train.
It was once said that men were just male chauvinist pigs who did nothing around the home and expected their doting, permanently affectionate wife to do all the dirty work after them. Women fulfilled the function of cooking, cleaning, doing the shopping and rearing children. Women were the ones responsible for watering, feeding and caring for their men folk and children. Women were the unsung heroes who deserve a medal just for tolerating men's eccentricities, their innumerable faults, their unusual habits and just doing the kind of things designed to drive women completely mad.
So now it's time for the men of the global habitation to strike back with a vengeance. The stereotypical man is the one who spends every Sunday morning, washing, polishing and scrubbing their cars with meticulous attention to detail and a gleam of tenderness in their eyes. Then their mates converge on them from all directions and demand they get a move on. It's football on the marshes, parks and recreation grounds of Britain, respectable men, growling, shouting, laughing, joking with each other on muddy quagmires during all winters.
They pull on their multi coloured football shirts, struggle to fit their feet into the same boots they've been wearing for the last 30 years and then releasing a huge bag of footballs onto a million pitches.They slam the car boot vehemently, chuckling sadistically at each other's stomachs, be they of the ironing board variety or paunchy, portly figures that may have eaten too many pizzas during the week. Football is the definitive theme of a man's life unless they can't stand the game. Football reinforces a man's sense of worth and striving for acceptance and validation from the rest of society. Football used to be a man's game but has now found gender equality with the advent of the hugely popular Women's Super League.
But men and cars have now become synonymous with each other not so much chalk and cheese but a homogenous whole where men have carved their initials on other pursuits. Men now take themselves off to river banks where, for hours at a time, they indulge in the ultimate male pursuit of fishing. Mostly in isolation, they escape from the female demands and exhortations. Rather than mowing the grass in the garden or painting the kitchen yet again or fixing another set of shelves on the wall, men throw nets into hundreds of cod, trout and haddock communities, pipes in mouths and bottles of lager to keep them company.
Oh but of course men drink lager because alcohol is one of their more frivolous preoccupations. It is the only way of winding down after a gruelling day at the work furnace. Drink is that mentally satisfying hobby where nobody minds if they swallow as many pints of ale in record time. Alcohol used to be that working class guilty pleasure that men embraced because it relieved the presssure, slowed down the reflexes and just made them laugh once the threshold had been broken. Then lager and ale conspired to affect their everyday behaviour, muddying their senses before reducing men to quivering wrecks.
Some of the more macho of men just attach themselves to activities that may seem rather less than conventional. They buy huge chrome motor bikes, investing in sartorially correct leather jackets, growing thick beards and then applying glorious tattoos to their arms and shoulders. Male grooming of course is a much more recent innovation and something to be acknowledged as a proper expression of their real selves. Bottles of hair gel, genuine shavers, innumerable choices of after shave lotions and bottles of anti-perspirants provide a comforting accompaniment to the male with perhaps hidden insecurities.
Then for all of the men of the global mass, there are the dedicated lorry drivers whose massive articulated vehicles roar up and down the motorways, freeways and autobahns of the universe with unwavering commitment. Male lorry drivers are tireless creatures who power their way past the heaviest traffic jams before dropping into motorway services for several plates of everything with mountains of chips. They roll up their sleeves, eat yet more chocolate bars and then hold onto their steering wheel with a steely tenacity as if refusing to accept that they may be knackered and exhausted.
But as a male member of the human race, you begin to wonder if perceptions will ever change. To the impartial observer, they remain downtrodden, determined to create the right and favourable impression but often failing miserably. They then resume their role as pub-drinking builders with muscles the size of rocks, industrious painters and decorators who love nothing better than a good, old fashioned perusal of Page Three of the Sun. This may come as something of a major disappointment to them because semi naked young girls are a dwindling species if not entirely non existent.
So Happy International Men's Day both Ladies and Gentlemen. For obvious reasons, your adorable and wonderful late dad always remains firmly on your mind and will never be forgotten. My dad was the epitome of male elegance and propriety. My dad dressed immaculately at all times, well tailored jackets, suits and blazers always to the fore. In fact he insisted on sartorial perfection because if there was no tie to hand and a handkerchief in his breast pocket, then my dad just felt incomplete. My dad used to wear a naval blazer for the seaside and no trip to either Southend or Westcliff was without the crisp shirt or a leisurely Fred Perry T-Shirt. He was always smartness personified but although never a drinker, loved smoking to his hearts content.
Way back in the early 20th century most of the male Hollywood leading lights, blockbuster household names and distinguished film luminaries were never without a cigarette either dangling from their lips or a fashionable lighter with boxes of matches in their possession. Both my lovely mum and dad were regular smokers but my dad had to have a packet of Senior Service cigarettes at his disposal. Bogart was addicted to his nicotine habit and you feel sure that my dad responded to Bogart's daily routines.
And so men once again, it's time to stand up and announce yourself proudly to all and sundry. This is not a time for being ashamed of who we are or apologetic in any way for any of our faults. Men may be portrayed as strong, muscular, ambitious, commonly athletic and just setting the right exemplary role model to both their wives, sons and daughters. But above all this is the day when men should be rightly proud of being fathers, boys, men, friends, uncles, cousins, teenage adolescents who just want to be the best husbands imaginable. Let's hear it for the boys and men.