Harry Potter and the Cauldron of Hormones
Like Michael Jackson’s stubble and Junichiro Koizumi’s permed Richard Gere-esque hair, Daniel Radcliffe’s latest sensationalised promotional photos leave me faintly disturbed. I haven’t joined the Puritan Police overnight to bluster about – quelle horreur! – the naked h
uman body (one of either model of which, last time I checked, we are all possessed). Rather, it is that such attempts (with dubious success) to project an image of masculine sexual attractiveness are just wrong! wrong! wrong! in people with whom I would never consider engaging in a romantic encounter. Michael Jackson? Scary as all hell. Koizumi? Completely unappealing. Harry Potter? Paedophilia!
When did he morph from a cute little mop-headed tyke into a nether-thatched man-boy? If I weren’t at least ten years removed from the acceptable Daniel Radcliffe ogling demographic, I might be all squealy and giggly over him as I was over my teenage pin-up (confessional aside: it was Lou Diamond Phillips), but I think therein lies the real issue behind this particular vague disquiet. I’m old and increasingly prudish, with babies of my own, and I dread the day my innocent children will grow up and, like a boy wizard dunked in a cauldron of hormones, become sexually aware beings, objects and sources of lustful desire.
Will I be forbearing enough to refrain from yelling, “And just where do you think you’re going dressed like that, young lady?!” at Miss Lonie, or trusting enough not to pull her every boyfriend aside for a quiet but threatening chat? Will I grin and bear it when it comes time to wash Master Lonie’s stained sheets, or when he leaves his condom-stuffed wallet open on the coffee table? I don’t know, but I can only hope that, like my siblings and I seemed to, they muddle through okay, unaffected by the downsides of ‘gender’ activity (as The Goodies might say).
I suppose I should just have a cup of tea, a Bex and a good lie down. It’s still a few years until Mr. Lonie need acquire the must-have tool for every father of girls (a big stick), and perhaps by then chastity belts will be the new teen fashion accessory. We can only hope.
uman body (one of either model of which, last time I checked, we are all possessed). Rather, it is that such attempts (with dubious success) to project an image of masculine sexual attractiveness are just wrong! wrong! wrong! in people with whom I would never consider engaging in a romantic encounter. Michael Jackson? Scary as all hell. Koizumi? Completely unappealing. Harry Potter? Paedophilia!When did he morph from a cute little mop-headed tyke into a nether-thatched man-boy? If I weren’t at least ten years removed from the acceptable Daniel Radcliffe ogling demographic, I might be all squealy and giggly over him as I was over my teenage pin-up (confessional aside: it was Lou Diamond Phillips), but I think therein lies the real issue behind this particular vague disquiet. I’m old and increasingly prudish, with babies of my own, and I dread the day my innocent children will grow up and, like a boy wizard dunked in a cauldron of hormones, become sexually aware beings, objects and sources of lustful desire.
Will I be forbearing enough to refrain from yelling, “And just where do you think you’re going dressed like that, young lady?!” at Miss Lonie, or trusting enough not to pull her every boyfriend aside for a quiet but threatening chat? Will I grin and bear it when it comes time to wash Master Lonie’s stained sheets, or when he leaves his condom-stuffed wallet open on the coffee table? I don’t know, but I can only hope that, like my siblings and I seemed to, they muddle through okay, unaffected by the downsides of ‘gender’ activity (as The Goodies might say).
I suppose I should just have a cup of tea, a Bex and a good lie down. It’s still a few years until Mr. Lonie need acquire the must-have tool for every father of girls (a big stick), and perhaps by then chastity belts will be the new teen fashion accessory. We can only hope.
4 comments:
I'm not used to the idea of seeing Radcliffe naked.
A large poster on the wall of John Farnham should solve any hormal problem.
Pop round mine with Miao and I will put you right off!
Im getting to quite like Radcliffe!
Post a Comment