In the latest dispatch from the End of Civilisation, I feel compelled to reveal a harrowing experience I had recently, an experience so disturbing that I have only just stopped shaking enough to write.
There I was, hoping for a relaxing Saturday, sitting down in front of the TV to enjoy a nice day’s football, when something so horrible, so dreadful, so blood-chilling happened that I can scarcely believe it wasn’t a dream.
The football started, the players hurled themselves into action, but as I pumped up the volume I heard it: a woman’s voice.
Let me just repeat that for you: the voice…of a woman. On the football. Calling the action, for all the world like a real commentator. Sitting up there, trying to brainwash us all into accepting her radical feminist agenda through her devious use of subtle subliminal messages contained in phrases like “holding the ball”, “crumbing the spillage”, and “pumps it long”.
Phrases that would normally, when said by proper sportscasters, be innocent and inoffensive, but, like a bible read aloud by Satan, take on a sinister and terrifying timbre when enunciated by this nefarious weekend-infiltrating harpy.
I mean, honestly, what’s going on here? Just how far can “equality” go before men no longer have any sanctuary, no respite, no space where they can safely go to be with other men, to watch other men chasing balls, to listen to other men describing other men chasing balls? Where will it end? Today female football commentators, tomorrow there could be female newsreaders, or female lawyers. Slippery slope, I tell you.
Now, some PC greenie-types will be saying, hey, what’s the big deal? What difference does it make whether the commentator is a man or a woman? Let me ask, have you ever heard a woman’s voice? It’s all high-pitched and tinkly, like wind chimes. Would you want wind chimes commentating on football? Can wind chimes convey the excitement of a speccy? Can wind chimes abuse an umpire? Can wind chimes bellow like a moose when a young man is knocked unconscious by a perfect hip-and-shoulder?
The answer to all these questions, in case you were wondering, is “no”. Although at least wind chimes don’t try to use sport to push an extremist Marxist agenda, like Kelli “Germaine” Underwood.
Fact is, for football, you need a man’s voice. A voice rich with testosterone and muscularity and barely restrained violence. A voice that booms with the authority that can only come from a life spent possessing a Y chromosome.
A woman’s voice just doesn’t have that authority. What’s more, a woman such as Underwood has never even played the game at the highest level. How can anyone properly describe a game that is going in front of their eyes unless they have played that game professionally, or at least possess a similar type of genitals to those who have?
It’s not as if women aren’t allowed a place in football. They get to frock up for the cameras on Brownlow night, don’t they? Everyone makes a fuss over them for half an hour or so, makes them feel special. It’s heartwarming, and life-affirming and – this is the most important part — it keeps everyone in their place. That is, men are in men’s place — playing football, commentating on football, running major corporations, fixing cars, etc — and women are in women’s place — wearing dresses.
Why can’t Kelli Underwood stick to wearing dresses, and unburden herself of these delusions of grandeur? Why do we need this mix-and-matching of gender roles? You don’t see men trying to commentate on childbirth; why would a woman want to commentate on football? Is it supposed to be cute?
So what is the answer? Well, like all problems, the best solution to this one is coercive government action. Legislation must be passed as a matter of urgency stating that all men’s sports must only be commented upon by people who can prove in extensive and invasive medical tests that they are of the male gender — thus not only preventing Ms Underwood from continuing, but also weeding out some more experienced commentators of whom, to be frank, I have always had suspicions.
I would prefer the legislation to specify that women cannot commentate at all, but I am willing to accept a compromise whereby women can commentate, but only women’s sports, such as netball, MasterChef, and soccer.
Get onto it, pollies. Sport is at the heart of our national character. If it’s going to go all girly and submit to crypto-feminazism, then all those brave Australians who fought and died for this country will have done so in vain. All those — and I can’t stress this enough — male Australians.