Aintree ladies: I am angry!
I write this post in a state of extreme anger. I’ve had enough of the mainstream press presenting the women at Aintree racecourse as classless, drunken bints and I want to fight back.
Now before I start, here’s where I stand as far as Aintree races goes. I can’t bear it. I’ve been there as a racegoer and I’ve also worked there and it’s just not my cup of tea at all. I don’t like the crowds and the mud, I’m not a fan of all-day boozing and there are other things I’d rather spend my hard earned cash on.
But I will fight to defend the women (and men) who save up, get dickie-dollied up and head out with their mates to have a good time. And I’ll bet my last few bob on the fact that those women are having far more fun than some po-faced news editor writing a sneering, condescending piece for the Daily bloody Mail.
Like it or loathe it, the races are as much a part of Liverpool culture as the Philharmonic and Ferry ‘Cross the Mersey and they bring millions in revenue to the city.
Now, I’m not a complete fool and I know that there’ll be more than a few drunken shouts of “Ey Lad!” ringing round town tonight, which is why I’ll be at home in my jim-jams watching Gogglebox.
I know that the photos of “bright” and “cheerful” women in the Daily Mail and elsewhere are of real women at Aintree, but there are other people there who didn’t make the cut. Beautifully attired women and dapper menfolk enjoying themselves. In this respect, all power to the mighty @ScouseBirdProbs who has spent the day Tweeting for River Island pictures of these people using the hashtag #CircleofFab (check it out).
So while I may never get a curly blow, don a massive hat, slather myself in fake tan or reveal my chunky legs for the world to see, I applaud the women who get glammed up and go to Aintree for a day of fun. Good on you, girls.