It occurred to me that if I’m going to post to an Aussie blog site then, especially as a Pom, I need to show some ‘machismo’. Machismo is central to the theme in the novel ‘The Honorary Consul’ by Graham Greene. While the novel was a risible take on machismo in Latin America, it never sought to alter the meaning of the word. I can’t remember if Greene’s novel was my introduction to machismo, but when I read it I was aware that the term machismo wasn’t in common use, or the truncated version ”macho’. Macho is now of course widely used, especially by females who use it synonymously with Neanderthal. Language being one of the many subversive elements used to change society, which is now moving inexorably towards that portrayed in ‘The Worm That Turned’. How long will it be I wonder before this transformation is complete? That the male become mere chattel, a plaything, not worthy of education, relieved of his suffrage. How long I wonder before the role of the male in the reproductive process becomes a myth, leading to his acceptance that procreation occurs when the female turns her hindquarters towards Boreas?
Personally, I place a large part of the blame for all this male feminist stuff on that Australian export Germaine Greer. Her trite comment, “The tragedy of machismo is that a man is never quite man enough” being widely used to undermine man’s self-esteem. Her liberation of women from their bra’s, a bra that would later make Madonna famous, resulted in generations of men unable to make eye contact with women. Buds were appearing that needed nipping. But perhaps it was already too late, Greer’s empowerment of women, when accompanied by the new genre of theatre and cinema such as The Rocky Horror Show and Priscilla Queen of the Desert, was all part of a cunning plan. Such entertainment encouraged men to openly display their feminization. Men were so busy looking for high heel shoes in their size and straightening their seams, that they never saw their outing as Dorothy being the first step on the yellow brick road to perdition. The expression ‘getting in touch with your feminine side’ became a common idiom, but something that I strongly eschewed. Sycophantic soul-searching stupefies some sentient seniors; suasively showing strong, strapping, skill sets, subdues such spurious siren songs. I’ll continue to assert my machismo by rising up and standing proud.
Given the Australian heritage of Germaine Greer, it seems somewhat paradoxical to discover that it is the Aussie male leading a machismo revival, and that the source of this revival is found in a shed. This discovery reminded me that my dad always had a shed. He used to spend a lot of time in it when he wasn’t at work, only coming indoors to eat and sleep. During WWII while dad was away I lived with grandad and grandma. I have a photograph of me sitting on the step to a shed at grandad’s allotment, but no memories of him digging for victory. I suspect that grandad didn’t do much digging, having enlisted as a sapper in previous wars, he probably thought he’d done enough digging to last him a lifetime. As he was now too old to enlist, to escape from grandma I guess he either went to the shed or the Lock Vaults. I do recall visiting grandad in a ‘sort of shed’ during WWII, well actually it was more like a sentry box. I think it was the office he used as a bookies runner. He used to spend a lot of time in it when he wasn’t in the Lock Vaults playing dominoes. I can now understand why allotments are so popular and the growing demand for them. I used to wonder why so many allotments looked neglected, it never occurred to me that for many an allotment was simply somewhere to put a shed.
But I digress; as I understand it, the point of shed machismo is the total exclusion of females and the selective inclusion of males. The key part that a shed played in this assertion of machismo was obviously known to my dad and grandad, to them the word machismo was unnecessary. It was simply an attitude passed down from father to son, an unspoken lesson learnt by observation, which needed no word to convey its purpose. Being unaware of the cunning plan, following generations became emasculated through seductive advertising promoting the use men’s deodorants, men’s shampoos, and french knickers disguised as ‘boxer shorts’. Devoid of any pheromones and unwittingly feminized, modern man became putty in a woman’s hand. Thanks to the Oz male, real men are rising up in their sheds, firm in their resolve. So my plan is to build a shed. Not from a kit, I mean building a ‘real shed’ from cut timber. It will be a truly machismo venture; hauling and cutting timber, carrying a big tool around, and looking thoughtfully at plans. Looking thoughtful with a tool in your hand never fails to impress (except for my wife that is, on such occasions she inexplicably looks heavenward and wanders off muttering something about ‘trivial pursuits’). As I can’t whistle or spit, something that put me at a great disadvantage in the street where I spent my formative years, I shall sing while I work. Singing while you work (as indeed does whistling and spitting) gives the impression that you know what you’re doing. In my formative years singing would have resulted in me being beaten up. Except at Saturday morning pictures that is, where everyone sang, reading the lyrics being pointed to by a bouncing ball (saying ‘lyrics’ would’ve also got me beaten up, it wasn’t wise to use words that wouldn’t be understood). We could all read at a very early age as in those days we learnt the three ‘Rs’, apart from Eddy Sconse who struggled to learn anything and who didn’t seem to get motivated by the cane as did the rest of us.
But I digress; in a machismo environment, where image is everything, and size really does matter, the song ‘I‘m a lumberjack and I’m OK‘ sounds quite apt. I now need to buy a hard hat, steel capped boots, check shirt, jeans and braces and I shall look the part. When the shed is complete, I intend to fill it with in real men (just like in Oz) and break out a cask of real ale. According to my brother-in-law real men only drink real ale, or so he keeps telling me when I order a lager. He always remarks, with some disdain, that lager is a boys drink. While I’m not a particular fan of real ale, I shall keep my end up and order in some ‘Golden Rivet’, or ‘Global Warning’, or ‘Bent Copper’, or whatever other ridiculously named ale it is my brother-in-law recommends. If becoming a convert to real ale is a necessary sacrifice in this pursuit of machismo (at least while in the shed), then I’ll not resist this change of wind.
But I digress; I’ve researched the shed construction starting with ‘5 secrets to building a better shed’ from ‘Popular Mechanics’ and have a set of plans. I’ve already taken a machismo stance by telling my wife of my shed plan (I do wish she’d stop rolling her eyes and muttering under her breath). When the weather improves and my wife tells me where I can put my shed, I’ll order up the materials. Every man with machismo should have a shed. Meanwhile I’ll compose my list of real men. There’s my brother-in-law (I do wish he’d switch his bloody hearing aid on when he’s not with his wife)……..
Boadicea's Chariot 
I hold Ms Greer to be the ruination of Australian Society, but I have never felt the need to burn my expensive underwear; no, I certainly think that is a step too far.
Sheds?
The macho male in my life doesn’t even know where it is, and he certainly didn’t build it!
Very amusing post, Peter, thank you! 🙂
Germaine has lived in the UK for many years and is regarded as a joke when she occasionally returns to speak in Oz. Nice article, though, PB. The shed is the root of Aussie male culture, along with the tinnie (both meanings)! 😀
What’s that song ‘I feel like a natural woman?’. Interesting that the following article should appear in The Guardian today: –
Why does nobody want to feel like a natural woman anymore? We now have a new aesthetic of femininity where everything is meant to be as fake as possible.
Read about it in The Guardian.
I think Germaine Greer is now regarded as a bit of a joke in Britain too these days, Bearsy.
I still feel like a natural woman, PB, having had no nips, tucks or Botox. But then I’m the Grandma in your cartoon.
What kind of a shed plan is that?
A typical Aussie shed has all four corner posts made out of beer cans, a roof made out of old BBK covers and walls made out of fence palings, and why are there no anti-blow fly corks hanging from the rafters? Using the plans above one would spend too much beer money!! 😦
🙂
Sheona – In 1999 Greer published ‘The Whole Woman’ (lent to me by my sister), I only really ‘know of’ Greer, but if I had to give a serious thought to her I would say that Macho attacks against her probably give credence to her views, which are largely parodied and don’t start me on ‘house husbands’.
Donald – Here in the UK we have very few flies. If I were an environmentalist, I would be worried, but worrying about the world is something that my dotage protects me from.
Zen – thanks, I should have put some form of indication on the images (it is up there).
Peter – No, mate, not “flies” … I meant “Blow Flies” they are much larger, have bodies like a pig and look like a dragon, they are all called Sheila and drink your beer when you’re not looking. 😦
🙂
The Return of the Shedi ??
OZ
Fortunately, Germaine left Oz before she could do too much damage… now where did she settle?
I have never, ever understood why people took her so seriously… and I feel sorry for those who did. I believe she has recently retracted much of what she said. Still, I guess she’s far cleverer than I am – she made money out of selling a ‘dream,’ – I didn’t! 🙂
If you do build a shed make sure it has a transparent roof, mine is polycarbonate. The extra light makes a big difference.
IN our garden the shed is my territory- not my husbands.
Am I alone in this?
Hello Donald – I went to watch the new release of True Grit last Wednesday, have you had to drink muddy water out of the imprint of a horse’s hoof like LaBoeuf?