Been meaning to post about these t-shirts for AGES. We saw them in the window of a shop in Whitby. Joe and I were waiting for David and Harry and ended up in front of the t-shirt shop. I’d said, “Oh look” before realising most of the t-shirts were tacky as hell. If Harry had been with me, I would have steered him swiftly away, but since it was Joe – and he can’t read – we stayed.
Can you see Joe’s reflection? He was really interested in the t-shirts and asked me what they meant. Obviously, I didn’t tell him, although when he asked about the one on the right, “Why is that man sad but the lady is happy?” I said, “Because apparently someone forced him to get married” and then chuntered to myself for a while. (I honestly don’t understand all the so-called humour around men being miserable, losing their freedom, etc. Don’t want to get married? Don’t get married, jackass.)
There were a few other t-shirts in the same vein and what I found disturbing was how many people would stop, read them, and laugh. A family of four stopped and while the parents read the t-shirts and chortled over them, the daughter – who looked about 7 – read a few too. I could see her lips moving. She looked a bit confused. And I watched her, thinking about how right there she was learning how some men think about women. And, for that matter, how some women think about themselves. And it depressed the hell out of me.
I was cheered up a bit by Joe’s interpretation of this t-shirt – “You can’t poo here, cows!”, David and Harry returning with coffees, and the thought that the t-shirts at least work as a fool-proof dickhead indicator.