Reading Abby Lee's interesting girlwithaonetrackmind blog - which reminds me of the little girl with the little curl, so to speak - she tells a story which I know must be true but don't want to believe that it is. She's just been on TV for the first time to talk about the blog and the (rather less enjoyable) book, and while she was hovering in the wings waiting for the call two nearby technicians could be heard loudly and quite blithely discussing her: 'who's that then?'/'she's the one who's shagged loads of blokes and written about it'.
Now anyone who has read said blog will recognise that the rejoinder is - factually- not wildly inaccurate, but while I am perfectly willing to believe in the veracity of this story, I have never, EVER heard anything quite as boorish said in the presence of a woman. I just haven't. Ever. I know it goes on. It must go on. But like so many things for me - especially in that domain - it remains in the realm of the noise or otherwise of the audially untestamented tree falling in the unattended forest clearing.
I know, I know. I must lead a very sheltered existence. Ladies, please. Send in your Crassest Male Remark to this address.
I'm not saying it doesn't happen. But if I have to live a vicarious life, I need input. You too, fellas. Come on. And I know my nursery rhyme allusion above doesn't exactly cover me in glory.