Way of the World

Traditional fairy tales may soon be on their way out. According to a new survey, the under-30s – aka Generation Z – consider them to be deeply problematic, sexist and offensive. The most upsetting fairy tale, in their view, is Hansel and Gretel, followed by Little Red Riding Hood.

It would be easy to scoff. Personally, though, I think the young have a point. A lot of traditional fairy tales are distressingly reactionary, and should be avoided by all compassionate, progressive modern parents.

Take Hansel and Gretel. The story demonises the witch, and invites us to cheer her demise. Yet no one ever thinks to ask why this poor woman has been reduced to eating children in the first place. Could it be that she is simply yet another innocent victim of heartless Tory austerity, and therefore, like so many struggling families during this cost-of-living crisis, has little option but to entice lost children into her cottage, fatten them up and roast them for her dinner?

No doubt uncaring Tories will say, “If this witch is so hungry, why doesn’t she just eat her cottage? After all, it’s made of gingerbread.” But if she eats her cottage, she’ll have nowhere to live. Little wonder homelessness is soaring in this country, if ordinary, hardworking witches are being forced to eat their own cottages to survive.

Little Red Riding Hood sets a dreadful example, too. Near the end, the title character makes a number of hurtful remarks about the Wolf ’s appearance, suggesting that it has unusually large ears, eyes and teeth for a woman.

But just because the Wolf does not conform to conventional standards of feminine beauty, that is no reason to be judgmental. In any case, if the Wolf says it is a woman, then it is a woman. No debate.

Enough of these hateful, outdated fairy tales. Let’s read our children The Guardian instead.

On Thursday’s episode of I’m a Celebrity … Get Me Out of Here!, Matt Hancock was asked who he would invite to his dream dinner party. His answer: JFK, Pocahontas, and “a naked Marilyn Monroe”. What an awful choice. Since JFK and Marilyn were reportedly lovers, not to mention sex maniacs, the two of them would doubtless seize the first opportunity to sneak off upstairs together. Especially if Marilyn were already naked. This would leave Mr Hancock having to spend the entire evening with Pocahontas. And Lord only knows what the former health secretary would find to talk about with a Native American teenage princess from the 16th century. “So, Pocahontas, I hear you died young after sailing to England and catching an unidentified virus. Speaking of deadly viruses, I …”

To be fair to Mr Hancock, though, it is a ridiculous question. For some reason, people love discussing which famous historic figures they would invite to a dinner party. But to me the idea sounds like hell on earth.

Say I were to host such a dinner party, and invited the big guns: Shakespeare, Austen, Newton, Darwin, Nelson. Of course, all these people would be fascinating to talk to. But I wouldn’t actually get to talk to them. Because they’d completely ignore me, and just talk among themselves. For goodness’ sake, here are our greatest playwright, novelist, mathematician, scientist and naval hero. What on earth would these titans of our history want to know about me? “Come, friends, we have talked quite long enough about the creation of King Lear, the inspiration for Mr Darcy, the discovery of gravity, the theory of evolution and the glorious defeat of Napoleon. Tell us, Mr Deacon – what was it like, being junior writer at Just Seventeen?”

Forget it. Quite reasonably, these towering figures wouldn’t have the least interest in a single word I had to say. In fact, they’d be bewildered by my very presence. It would be embarrassing for all concerned.

Then again, there is one way

I could impress them. Because, unlike Shakespeare, Austen, Newton, Darwin and Nelson, I own a TV. And, for that matter, a smartphone, a laptop, a dishwasher, a vacuum cleaner, a freezer, a washing machine and a microwave oven. My historical guests would be speechless with awe at these astonishing inventions. Come to think of it, I could pretend that I invented them all myself. None of my guests would know any better.

Shakespeare will think I’m a genius.

The major European football teams, including England, are all looking rather red-faced. Before the World Cup, they vowed to take a brave and principled stand against the homophobic Qatari regime by wearing rainbow armbands. But then Fifa, the game’s governing body, told them that the referee would show them a yellow card. So, to avert this unimaginable catastrophe, the teams decided not to wear the rainbow armbands after all.

It’s all very awkward. Thankfully, though, I’ve got a solution. Instead of rainbow armbands, the players should wear rainbow underpants.

That way, they can nobly adhere to their principles without incurring any potential cost to themselves – because the referee won’t be able to see their pants. Once they’re safely back home in Europe, they can reveal that they were secretly wearing them all along. Then everyone will congratulate them on their courageous act of subversion, and apologise for ever doubting their integrity.

Anyway, even if a referee did get wind of this cunning ruse, he couldn’t very well tell the players to take their pants off. Because if he did, a Qatari policeman might overhear, and arrest him.