Trevor's Tales

Laura Whotton, 26 from Carrington in Nottingham was thrown out of the John Carroll leisure centre for being in breach of council rules.
A spokesman for the leisure centre confirmed that she was removed from the poolside for being in serious breach of a bylaw.

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Was she thrown out after some old fuddy duddy complained about her indecent behaviour?
Was she evicted for sunbathing topless?
Was she given the order of the boot for abusive language?
Was she enjoying sex in a public place?
Did she break laws relating to health and safety by having her baby too close to the water?
No.
Incredibly she was given her marching orders for breast feeding her baby, thereby breaking the council rule regarding the consumption of food and drink by the poolside.
It could only happen in Britain.

A council spokesman, Mr David Trimble said, ‘the policy is a bit ambiguous.’
No kidding Mr Trimble.

The council will be issuing a full apology and the policy will be rewritten to remove breast feeding from its list of offences.
I should think so too.

Britain seems to still be among the world’s worst for its priggish attitude to both sex and nudity. Teenage boys still snigger at the sight of a bare breast. Women are repressed enough still to find something wrong in members of their fellow sex, unbuttoning their blouse to satisfy the needs of their offspring in the full view of others.

A purely natural act like breast feeding wouldn’t get a second glance in the majority of the world’s towns and cities. But in Britain it seems that we find it hard to shake off the prim and proper attitudes that our stuffed shirt Victorian ancestors bestowed on us.

The British attitude to sex, and the embarrassment brought on by the mention of almost every bodily function is legendary.
We either have to make a smutty joke of it, or pass a by law forbidding the display or use of any of the ‘private’ areas of our bodies in public.

I remember back in the 70’s when a young girl i was with was ordered to cover up, by a policeman in Nottingham city centre. Her crime was to be wearing a lace blouse without a bra underneath. The Policeman claimed she was a danger to the public because male motorists may lose concentration on the road when they were concentrating on her. She was a fine figure of a woman but I can’t remember a series of crashes on the roads that day. Maybe I wasn’t concentrating on the traffic.

On the square, in town, one summer afternoon, a young couple were moved on and warned about their future conduct because their obvious desire for one another had led them to become involved in a kiss so intense, that Rodin would have happily committed murder in order to be allowed to record the event in marble.

It’s time Britain moved on from the snotty attitudes of the blue rinse brigade. It’s time Colonel Blimp and his cohorts were told that their day has gone.
We can still keep that very British seaside postcard humour, it’s part of our heritage after all. But it’s time the current young generation started to fight against these outmoded, outdated, philosophies. It’s time to bring breasts out of the gutter and onto the pavements. Ooer Missus...