THE
BIG QUESTIONS
Like
Hamlet and Shylock, Little Red Riding Hood is a common metaphorical
currency in our language. Yet whilst the motivations and failings of
Shakespeare's creations are fully known and understood, the little
girl remains a shallow, shadowy figure whose history is uncertain.
Does she deserve her reputation for goodness and innocence? The
answer comes from asking the most obvious question on the subject -
what exactly is a 'Riding Hood'?
This
simple query leads to the unmasking of the supposed heroine of the
tale. A riding hood is to be worn by women who are riding. Riding a
horse. Does this scarlet youth meet that description? No, she is
neither riding, nor a woman. The conclusion is obvious. The garment
has been stolen and is being used to conceal her identity from anyone
suspicious of her activities. She has invented the hoodie. Seen in
this light the Wolf emerges as a wronged character, trying to make his
way as best he can since the benefits he receives have been slashed
by the Tories and are inadequate to support his needs.
Wolfist
discrimination is a regular feature of these old tales, the wolf
permanently maligned where his close, but dopier, cousin, the dog,
gets all the good press. Vis The Three Little Pigs in which the Wolf
performs an important service in demonstrating the perils of
employing cowboy builders and the value of unionised labour. If only
the pigs had had the sense to band together, pooling their skills and
knowledge, there would have been no trouble. The wolf here is a
tutor, warning against the evils of capitalism and over-reliance on
individualism.
So
many of the warnings embodied in early fairy tales have been lost to
us. All those exhortations to beware of thieving children get
ignored too often. Remember evil Goldilocks and those innocent,
peace loving bears? A happy family unit is disrupted by the theft of
their food and abuse of the family home. Moral? Never trust curly
blonde kids. I bet Hansel and Gretel were fair haired. And probably
permed as well. An innocent old lady is made their victim despite
her very generous offers of food and accommodation. Ungrateful
little brats, and early purveyors of witchist bigotry.
Or
that Snow White? Relying on the labour of elderly, height-challenged
pensioners, she sets herself up for future riches and celebrity. It
doesn't take much to detect the hand of Atos at work in ensuring the
forced labour is available, whilst the erstwhile good-girl sets up
deals with Hello magazine. Only a 'Prince' will be good enough for
this ego. Prince? Read anyone with a pile of dosh. Greed and
exploitation at its worst.
Of
course royalty feature heavily in fables, because, as we all know,
anyone of royal blood, and their spouses, are always beautiful,
intelligent, kindly, witty and will always have the interests of the
common people at heart. That's why we in Britain are so lucky to
still have a monarchy. You couldn't even imagine royal personages
who might be racist, greedy, manipulative, paranoid, secretive,
big-eared, horse-faced or (whisper it) a bit dim. Could you? Which
is why the Emperor's New Clothes is such an inane travesty. Any
ruler worth his place would have employed a 'trier on' of new
clothes, a sort of sartorial food taster, so he could see for himself
if there was any risk of impropriety, and would have the savvy to
recognise that the purported invention was beyond the capabilities of
the technology of the day. A royal personage guided by vanity is
just impossible to imagine. Isn't it?
At
least that story had a child hero for once, there had to be the odd
kid or two capable of something useful I suppose. They couldn't all
be selfish crooks like Jack. It's only through his own stupidity
that he ends up with those 'magic' beans. Which is no excuse for the
crime spree he indulged in against the giant, culminating in the
latters untimely murder. And, due to the more serious long-term
implications of introducing untested, genetically modified crops into
the district, farming in the village was disrupted for many decades.
Once again an unsupervised teenager is the culprit. Where were
Social Services whilst all this was going on?
They
probably worked for Dick Whittington and therefore had been given no
clear directives on the control of unruly youths. Anyone who is daft
enough to think they could persuade a cat to accompany them is a
fantasist of the most dangerous kind, almost certainly under the
influence of Class A drugs. Thank goodness that the people of
London would never consider allowing themselves to be run by some
self-centred, rambling buffoon.
The
warnings are all there if you care to look for them. Look at The
Little Mermaid. Young women need to be made aware of how much better
exercise swimming is than dancing in high heels. And that certain
amphibians may turn out to be ideal mates.
See
what happens when you ask the big questions?
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