Janis Hetherington SPECIAL: "WTF, Dolce & Gabbana?"

syringesJanis Hetherington was the first UK woman in an openly same-sex couple to be artificially inseminated. Unsurprisingly, she saw fit to have a few words about the Dolce & Gabbana debacle…

So I’m sat here surrounded by voluminous column inches about sproglets. Not your any common or garden sprogs but those requiring a lickle bit of nuture against nature as I do each spring in my greenhouse. Selective breeding so to speak. Making sure my pelargoniums do not conspire with my super-white geraniums and breed a puce variety that will alarm my bedding scheme.

All very acceptable at Chelsea Flower Show and especially amongst the giant veg brigade spiking each others entries with unspeakable wraths come the late Summer shows BUT we are talking about humankind here and selective breeding as we all know is the strict realm of toffs and warlords. So wot’s up DOC? Well Doc is indeed guilty of test tube conspiracy. Oh! What does go on in those breeding dishes that gobble up our defective genes?

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh Genes? Well actually jeans or rather non jeans. Do Dolce & Gabbana possess or progress 501s? Of course it is the other genes they’ve made pronouncement about and upset poor old Elton and Martina (those icons of all things mildly or even vermillion pinky) to such an extent that boycotts and burnings at the stake are threatened throughout pinkdom and even faghaggerydom.

I do have a vested interest here. Please bow whilst I make my declaration as the first woman in an openly same-sex couple to have been inseminated here in the UK, back in 1970… Yes huge round of applause and yawn you have been reading about me and my zoo for nearly four decades and here we are back to square one screaming and threatening with the same hyperbole. Except it is not. Ours was a lonely battle against church, parliament and establishment. Here we have self-confessed queens and their entourage fighting a million dollar slanging match in public. If Max Clifford hadn’t been doing press-ups in the pokey you’d have thought it emanated from his prestigious orifaces.

Now let’s get facts straight (no pun intended) once and for all. A marrow was never supposed to grow to 50kilos and counting. It started its inconspicuous life as little more than a tasteless weed. Then wowey along came Darwin and numerous botanists before him to twiddle with their pricking out and bunnies tail pollinating sticks to create mummsies and daddsies that were not just interchangeable but fragrance enhanced and perpetual flowering. I remember saying thus on a long dodo-ed program called Brass Tacks and receiving more hate mail than DG’s elegant post bag I can assure you. I think D/G must have been in diamante-clasped nappies at the time (Yeah I know they both came from Iti doss houses but you get my drift!).

Those very words “YOU CALLED YOUR SON AN EXPERIMENT!” echoed round my child’s humble Hampstead playground banging against cladded breeze block walls as if seeking a voice-proof ghetto. With a posse of baying paparazzi hammering at his formidable headmistress’s study door I slipped past incognito as a cement-splattered, dungereed labourer of unrecognisable sexual definition. Not that difficult a task as I was involved in teaching unruly eight-year-olds how to construct garden walls in the small but viable patch of ground adjacent to the school and frequently took on the persona of half-witted brickie. Churchill I believe had a similar complexity!

Having recorded the said program on ancient tape (the nascent days of cumbersome kit) it appears I had been accused of “Opening THE Pandora’s Box for which there would be no closure.” Added after the so called live broadcast of course but more believable than the entire hour dialogue for those who wanted to absorb a cheap cliché. Hellfire and damnation. Just as well my son’s head m’am had escaped from the horrors of Germany in 1935 and knew exactly what NASTY EXPERIMENTATION really meant.

And thus my message to DG… You have every right dear chappies to your opinion about our specially selected veg (oops I meant families) and speak out as you feel fit but please remember that the fine cloth and super dyes you find essential to your billion dollar enterprise comes from a long process of selective breeding as in fact you do yourselves. So please quaff your selectively bred champers in glasses refined to the nth degree and raise a toast to the false myth of family that is an invention of convenience by warlords who saw wombs as a convenient harvest for cannon fodder. Ahhhhh ! I hear you moan… but what about love and bonding? May I quote you from recent times when one of our warlords, a certain Prince Charles, endearingly pronounced on producing his son and I quote “Now I’ve proved myself a stud.” Indeedy.

And for the rest of us serfs who toil and sweat under the heavy burden of GCSEs, Phds, PTAs and even nursery exams, lunch boxes that are examined as if evidence of child abuse and even the dreaded NIT nurse… Is a child not a child not a child? We are living in an era when cancer can be understand by genetic process. We are genes. We are a chemical conundrum and if we look for a soul and a reason to explain it all we have to look beyond boundaries and confines and walls beyond doctrinal rules into the abyss that defies the procreation of our excepted norm.

We are indeed, all of us MOTHERS OF INVENTION. And yes I do dearly love and cherish my son. The enigma of love is to be found in the next generation of scientists. Is the earth really round?

Janis Hetherington, Part 19 – Marriage

Janis Hetherington, Part 18 – “Bi – the new currency of shame?”

Janis Hetherington, Part 17 – “Tittle-Tatler”

Janis Hetherington, Part 16 – “Ex-bisexuals?”

Janis Hetherington, Part 15 – “Nothing is black and white”

Janis Hetherington, Part 14 – “Arabian Ladyes”

Janis Hetherington, Part 13 – “Blow-up dolls and secret cells”

Janis Hetherington, Part 12 – “Major Ronald”

Janis Hetherington, Part 11 – “Fatwa”

Janis Hetherington, Part 10 – “Split personality”

Janis Hetherington, Part 9 – “Eccentricity”

Janis Hetherington, Part 8 – “Polyamorality”

Janis Hetherington, Part 7 – “We still weren’t ‘normal’…”

Janis Hetherington, Part 6 – “The publicity years”

Janis Hetherington, Part 5 – “Meeting Biscuit”

Janis Hetherington, Part 4 – “The custody battle”

Janis Hetherington, Part 3 – “The death”

Janis Hetherington, Part 2 – “Breaking the rules of 70s family life”

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Janis Hetherington

Outrageously, rebelliously outspoken. Sexually incontinent. Avid supporter of lost causes: ever hopeful they will be transformed, ever fearful that once they are they will become the monsters that trampled them. Janis is the author of "Love Lies Bleeding: Memoirs of a Sexual Revolutionary".

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