Bandicoot is transfixed, rooted to the spot, almost struck dumb at the latest intellectual furore sweeping Melbourne. Not just Melbourne; it is spilling on to the Mornington Peninsula, where one finds the occasional traffic lights and accompanying pedestrian crossings. And around the world!
You can’t have missed it, this frisson about female-shaped figures on “walk” signs. Talkback radio and coffee shop discussion may have already peaked; the intelligentsia has probably moved on to another topic, possibly coffee or cricket.
It’s gone international. Bandicoot heard it on the BBC overnight news service. A Melbourne gent named Brendan rang the Beeb to have his opinion recorded and regurgitated. A Melbourne woman whose name Bandicoot missed did the same. Neither, mercifully, gave their view of anything important.
A century or so ago suffragettes were chaining themselves to railings and leaping in front of race horses in their campaign for women’s right to vote. Is it their great-granddaughters seeking equality at pedestrian crossings?
Bandicoot has – as usual – a solution to the debate. There are those who say the current green/red silhouette is unisex, that it could as easily be a woman wearing slacks as a man. Bandicoot says we must be more specific.
It must be a Kardashian, those ghastly tarts who appear to have no other attribute, worthwhile or otherwise, than tremendous physical attributes. There would be no mistaking female for male if a Kardashian outline was chosen.
But that’s not all: think of the name – “car-dash” is so apt! (You did get it, Bandicoot hopes.)
The antithesis of suffragettes, of feminism, of good taste, of culture, they perfectly reflect, indeed epitomise, the current Neolib/vacuous culture of promoting yourself via brazen vulgarity (Trump-like) then grab the money and run before the next revolting “culture” tsunami swamps you.
As for the colour of pedestrian crossing lights, Bandicoot says abolish boring, predictable red and green. Now that autumn is with us, change to yellow and gold. For winter, black and white. Spring and summer can be a riot of hues, perhaps changing weekly.
While this may confuse the fashion-lethargic, and may cause the odd road fatality and a few injuries, what is that compared with the magnificence of Kardashian arses blinking at every intersection. We would be famed globally as trend leaders, as famous almost as the bums we have employed.
But … can we afford the royalties these ersatz royal rears may charge? Do we have no local curvatures that, perhaps we could use, possibly export, for cold cash – hard currency for soft bottoms that tourists would flock around for their chance at a unique selfie? Bandicoot can think of none.
Finally the ghastly tarts could, in a sense, be given a useful task, possibly their first.
FOOTNOTE: among the dozens, nay hundreds, of pictures Bandicoot viewed seeking something appropriate, none revealed bodily movement except stretching vacant faces into smiles. He hopes the accompanying snap will suffice.