On Statistics, Stereotypes and My Aunt's Ire.

I just watched another women’s footie match. This one was between the Scintillating Seductresses from Sweden (every one of them 5ft 9 and slim, and all with blonde hair or blonde highlights – they reminded me of the cabin crew on a United Airlines flight I took once) and the Glorious Gallics of Belgium (all shapes, sizes and hairstyles – one of them even appeared to be wearing a Harpo Marx wig – and all the more supportable for the fact.) The Gallics lost, however, to the only goal of the game scored in time added on at the end, which was a shame.

What I found annoying was the nature of the statistics. They were all about things like territory, possession, shots at goal, shots on target, and other such meaningless nonsense. What they should actually have been comparing was who had the most come-hither eyes, which team had the best aggregate length of pony tails, and whether Swedish or Belgian legs had the deepest sun tans. That’s pretty much what I was noticing since nobody was scoring any goals.

Jeffrey!

Yes, aunt.

You’re doing it again.

Am I?

Yes.

Doing what?

Objectifying women.

Oh, that.

You know it’s wrong, don’t you? I've told you so before and you said you were trying to get better.

Yes, aunt.

Should I presume that you were only joking on this occasion?

Erm…

*  *  *

Tell you what, though. By the end of the game, the Swedish girls all looked as though they’d just spent ninety minutes in a sauna. But then, I suppose they usually do.