In the comments following this, on the proposed reality show Zoe Meets The Murgatroyds, Nikw211 replied,

Among the gems to savour are the endless factional disputes over exactly how capitalism should be toppled, feats of farcical mismanagement, an earnest exposition on “penile imperialism,” and interviews with former self-styled radicals, now sitting by private swimming pools, fretting about fridge ownership, or planning to work on llama farms.

For those with an interest in history, or indeed obliviousness, the three episodes are linked below.

Property is Theft.

The questionable pleasures of communal living. Specifically, a squatted street in Brixton. Contains scenes of waiting for utopia to materialise. And biohazard crockery. Oh, and the primal screaming commune at number 12.

Angry Wimmin.

In which, we’re told that lesbianism is an ideological duty, and that any woman can be a lesbian if she just tries hard enough, is mentored, and embraces the right kind of politics. A claim that has a somewhat self-serving quality, given the people making it.

A Lot of Balls.

The tale of a bewilderingly inept attempt in 1987 to launch a radical left wing tabloid, fuelled by the fever-dreams of Cambridge Marxists. The project was, unsurprisingly, a disaster, with its failure a direct result of ideological pretension. As illustrated by the scene in which, with the paper’s first edition about to go to press, most of the staff is out of the office on a deafness awareness day.

Consider this an open thread. Share ye links and bicker.

Via Mr Muldoon, a guide to finding ‘Pride’ in the taxidermy collection of Manchester Museum:

Have you found everything on our Pride Trail yet? 🏳️‍🌈

To Celebrate Manchester Pride we’re shining a spotlight on stories in our museum that speak to today’s LGBTQ+ community.

Here’s Nick with more about why there are so many more males than females in our taxidermy collection. pic.twitter.com/ovcDGbKwUU

— Manchester Museum (@McrMuseum) August 21, 2024

Whether taxidermied birds will in fact, as claimed, “speak to today’s LGBTQ+ community,” and prompt some radical and liberating mental uplift, remains something of a mystery. Still, at least we’ve been made aware of Nick’s fabulist pronouns, and her – sorry, them’s – badge collection. Manchester Museum is, sadly and perhaps inevitably, blocking enquiries and replies from those not pre-approved:

Apparently, the initial comments from the public, including museum visitors, were not the unanimous affirmation that was expected. An expectation that in itself is somewhat revealing. It does rather suggest a mindset, a bubble. And hence the rush to clamp down on unauthorised opinions.

Among which, the opinion that bemoaning the evils of “cis, straight, white men” may require a more solid pretext than the fact that Victorian collectors and taxidermists used for display the most eye-catching specimens they could find.

Similarly, any suggestion that the positioning of some stuffed male birds slightly higher than the females – so that their sexes might more readily be grasped by visitors – is hardly a basis for indignation, or indeed woke job creation.

And remember,

A stable structure for raising offspring. How terribly unfashionable.

Readers will doubtless recall the likeminded “queering” of Portsmouth’s Mary Rose Museum, home of all things Tudor, where visitors were informed, with some satisfaction, that, “Many objects can be viewed through a Queer lens and can indirectly tell LGBTQ+ stories.”

The word indirectly was, it turned out, doing some heavy lifting. And so, those curious about the favourite warship of Henry VIII were shown a mirror salvaged from the wreck, and were told how mirrors in general can induce psychological crises in the sexually dysmorphic. Because, obviously, when you’ve travelled across the country to learn about Tudor England, the first thing you want to know is that reflective surfaces can upset men who pretend to be women.

A display of sailors’ nit combs was likewise accompanied by a reminder that, “for many Queer people today, how we wear our hair is a central pillar of our identity.”

Yes, I know. Breath-taking stuff. The bleeding edge. Those with a taste for cack-handed incongruity will find much to marvel at.

I gather today is some kind of national holiday over yonder, beyond the sea. I shall therefore wish American readers a jolly time. I’ll also share an educational lecture on the topic by Professor James O’Flannery:

Among Professor O’Flannery’s other lectures is this one, on the Chinese Revolution, and which I strongly recommend.

Also, open thread.

When you browse the website of Portsmouth’s Mary Rose Museum, looking for information on artefacts from Tudor England… and this is what you get:

Because when you look at a sixteenth-century mirror salvaged from a warship belonging to Henry VIII, the first thing you want to know is how it might induce psychological crises in the sexually dysmorphic.

And,

It’s quality stuff. Just like being there, in the mists of history. And not at all inept, or jarring, or comically incongruous.

The word indirectly is, I fear, doing an awful lot of work. And thanks to peering through this “Queer lens,” readers will doubtless find that their understanding of Tudor history has been enriched no end.

We’re told – indeed, assured  – by Hannah McCann, of the museum’s collections and curatorial staff,

A comfort, I know.

Exactly why such “queering” is underway – what its relevance might be – is not, however, made clear. An explanation for this bolting-on of irrelevant, flimsy tat – in the name of “queer theory” – was not, it seems, deemed necessary. Nor is it entirely obvious how such “queering” of museum contents benefits those who wish to know more about Henry VIII’s favourite warship.

Update, via the comments:

Regarding the mysterious purpose of all this “queering” of sixteenth-century objects, Rafi adds, drily:

Indeed. That does seem to be the primary objective. That, and the modish tactic of identifying a thing that people find interesting and then inserting one’s own rather narrow and tedious politics, and by extension oneself. Looking through the catalogue notes, no other obvious benefit, for visitors, springs to mind. Unless we include the exercising of eyebrows by moving them up and down.

And the effect, the incongruity – the sheer cack-handedness of it – is quite bizarre. It reminded me of the ‘adverts’ in The Truman Show, in which Truman’s wife and neighbours suddenly, rather desperately, and often mid-sentence, draw attention to some cleaning product or chicken dinner.

Welcome to the world of queered history. It’s like actual history, but less so.

Update 2:

In the comments, John highlights a few lines from the Telegraph’s coverage of the story:

Well, you’d think that might be a more obvious line of historical enquiry, albeit more difficult to verify.

And it occurs to me that the contrived witterings quoted above – and the museum’s urge to share them as if they were scholarly and profound – says rather more about the state of our cultural institutions than it does about anything else.

Via ripx4nutmeg.

From 1849, a tale of terror and suspense:

What followed, unsurprisingly, was quite stressful. Among the words used are enormous size.

What was I saying? Oh yes. Consider this an open thread.