I’m not a little princess, thanks

E4′s new geological dating show My precise Princess is mindless… and misogynistic.

I work evenings, so I have a higher than average exposure to daytime TV.

To avoid the temptations of the real number Housewives, I try to stick to E4, on the basis that at least some of the rubbish there is ironic.

But recently, the advertisements for new dating programme ‘My Little Princess‘ have been ruining my daytime tv viewing by filling me with righteous anger on the dot when I’m trying to be as spiritless as possible.

If you haven’t seen My Little Princess, good for you, except here’s the basic premise: a base of preening, perma-tanned “prince charmings” compete in a series of challenges to win the affections of… the king, who whence grants the victorious challenger the right to date his daughter the princess.

First reception: ew, followed by that righteous feminist anger.

But to give the function a fair shot, I watched an episode.

I wasn’t expecting much, given the reviews.

E4 might jokingly beseech it the biggest social function since the Second World War, that Caitlin Moran thinks it’s the stupidest thing on TV, and I know who I’m going with.

Even with such low expectations, actually watching the thing caused my eyes to roll right out of my head at bottom the first few minutes.

The misogynist angle is hugely play up in the introduction, as we discover that the princess’s require to find love will be directed by the “ current ruler” of the land, aka her dad.

Well, I live in the twenty-first century, and I’m pretty sure that my dad doesn’t need to be told that he’s non the true ruler of my anything.

It doesn’t stop at medieval topics of charish agency.

We alike have a casual mention of the idea that women don’t go for nice, caring guys, as though a man being nice to a woman requires her to reward him with a relationship.

Then there are the constant judgements on the masculinity of the challengers: one isn’t brave enough, some other not strong enough, a third not ripped enough.

The ick factor is vie for laughs, too.

During the first silly challenge, the princes must answer the king’s questions truthfully, or be catapulted into a lake.

What does dad think earmark to ask his daughter’s potential dates?

“Have you incessantly so made a sex tape?”

“Have you ever looked at a another man’s penis and thought, ‘Hmm, nice penis’?”

Cue nausea.

And then we’re right punt to straight-up misogyny.

According to “Prince Martin of Blackpool”, the winner of the episode I watched, the feeling that “girls are further a bit of meat to bite into” is one communal to all lads.

This programme couldn’t be more discriminatory if it tried.

In fact, I’m quite sure they did try.

I’m also sure there will be those who’ll say that I’m taking this much too seriously, and that it’s reasonable harmless fun, not representative of any deeper cultural issue.

To which I say, that’s precisely the problem here.

Because the programme is so idiotic, it would be lite to dismiss its misogyny as just get out of the prank.

But doing so allows its sexist ideas to remain out in public, and devalues the armed combat for equality in areas where it is deadly serious.

If we don’t call out sexism in a target as easy as this, what chance have we got of changing attitudes on rape, for character?

Martin of Blackpool probably doesn’t really think women are pieces of meat, but there are plenty of people who do, and this kind of thing lets them think the masses agree with them.

Let that idea float around, and we give the sack up with a society in which women can be blamed for sexual assault against them.

My Little Princess is just another sorry example of casual sexism masquerading as (retch) humorous banter, and feigning it has no consequences. Don’t watch it.

 

Materials taken from Womens Views on News