Chelsea Blues
‘IT would be absurd to accuse a Mail reader of knowing nothing about gardening, but we are forced to question the papers coverage of the Chelsea Flower Show.
|
| Ornithogalum (florist’s nighmare) |
On the same day when the Express bemoans modern standards and asks Where have all the smart people gone?, the Mail shocks its readers with a picture of what looks to us like a small, bushy acer palmatum partly obscured by the figure of a naked woman.
What world does the Mail publish in, and why is it allowed to publish in this one, ask we, through lips pursed in disapproval.
Of course, there is a perfectly simple explanation, and when we look at the paper afresh, we note that the nude has an alien quality about it, as if its made of bronze.
The Mail tells us that it is indeed a sculpture, and that such items have been cropping up all over this years hitherto demure show.
And look, there are some more. Lily Sawtells quirky ladies are odd, matronly nudes with pronounced abdomens, shocked eyes and water pouring from their hats. Why, if they arent the perfect companion for any Mail readers garden.
But not so that obscenity lying prostrate in the grass. The grey, lean figure of a muscular man, his modesty concealed behind a tiny and stubborn loin cloth, is too much.
And the statue of a naked man lying spreadeagled on his back has no place in decent society. Even if it dos look like Alan Titchmarsh…’
Posted: 26th, May 2005 | In: Tabloids Comment | TrackBack | Permalink
