Just so long as it’s not my daughter! Substitute ‘daughter’ with ‘sister’, ‘friend’, ‘wife’ or even ‘mother’
Certainly, it’s ‘alright’ and even ‘acceptable’ for more and more pubescent girls, teenagers and twenty-somethings to be involved in an ever growing ‘sex industry’ be it strip joints, competitions to see who can be on the cover of Nuts, old-fashioned pornography or anything from the legally cosseted ‘massage’ parlours to being an ‘escort’. ‘Gentlemen’s Clubs’ are fast replacing pubs, as Ed West describes on his Daily Telegraph blog.
You can hear the cries of ‘it’s liberation!’, ‘it’s a good career move!’, ‘those girls are having fun’, and ‘they are doing what they want with their bodies!’ from the social engineers.
Really? Right, enough with the blaze, ‘open minded’ guff about ‘liberation’.
Forgive me for being unsophisticated but how many fathers, of any race and any age, do you know that opine ‘oh yes, when Kate, our little princess grows up, she’ll work at Stringfellows’?
How many mothers openly delight in saying ‘and when Amy is fourteen she’ll have her naked picture up in the phone box!’ But, then every ‘sex worker’ (the use of the term ‘worker’ makes them beloved by the ’worker’s rights wing’) is someone’s daughter, someone’s grandchild and possibly someone’s mother someday. What child wants to go to school and say that their mum works in a ‘massage’ parlour?
Next time, you meet some self-besotted individual who thinks ‘it’s just great’ that girls ‘can do that now’, ask them this; ‘may I ask if you would think it so great if your daughter/sister/mother became part of the sex industry?’
Or then again, maybe don’t. You don’t want them to turn apoplectic, denounce you as ‘small-minded’ and never speak to you again. Although you would then be saved a lifetime of Mr Pinky-Prattle ‘political’ claptrap on ‘how far women have come since the sixties.’ Mr. Pinky-Prattle wouldn’t dare allow you to reveal his hypocrisy again. Mr Pinky-Prattle thinks it’s fine for Natasha from Siberia, or Ewa from Gdansk, or Bellinda from Brixton, or Carly from Liverpool, but oh no, not their daughter. Never! The best Mr. Pinky-Prattle could do would be to remark ‘well it wouldn’t really be Charlotte’s thing...’
Mr. Pinky-Prattle lives on every street, he’s the one who sponsors the sex industry by his subscriptions and ‘outings to gentlemen’s clubs’, then likes to dress up the sex industry as being a grand facility for women’s ‘liberation’. He buys The Guardian and wears organic cotton. Bless him, he even recycles his porn mags.
I did once meet an ‘escort’ in the Bronx who was twenty six, and had a twelve year old daughter. Tentatively, I asked her if her daughter knew what she did.
‘Of course! But she tells everyone that I work with lonely old people, or that I'm some kinda frind to men. But I say to my kid, you gotta get a good college edu-kay-shun. You’re not going to grow up to do what I do.’ The daughter will learn that sexual experiences are cash transactions. Selling your body for ‘deutschmarks or dollars American Express will do nicely thank you’ will be the ‘work’ that this ‘escort’s’ daughter identifies with. Would you suppose that Mr. Pinky-Prattle would let his daughter, Charlotte play with the child of the escort? Would he want his daughter playing in the house of a sex-worker? I don't think you will find Mr Pinky-Prattle too enthusiastic.