Growing Pains of a Hapless Househusband (25 page)

Thursday 7 August

We should have cancelled.

The interview was, to put it mildly, a complete and
utter fucking disaster. Thank God the BBC9 audience is
only in the tens of thousands.

Of course, I took an instant dislike to
Ms
Stocks. And
she took an instant dislike to me. It was like the first
time chalk and cheese had ever met, and they both
knew that their differences were going to be the stuff of
metaphor. By the end of our half-hour together, I was
tempted to find out whether hitmen listed themselves
in Yellow Pages.

The first ten minutes was suitably banal, and I felt at
ease plugging the show, and telling her how the
childcare programme worked. Of course, had I realised
it at the time, I wouldn't have relaxed quite so much,
and on reflection, her tactic was to make me drop my
guard. The first tricky question was a simple one, but it
was loaded with subtext.

'What I find interesting about all this,' she said, 'is the
tacit assumption that men are better at just about
everything. Your programme seems to strip away
centuries of female-led childcare with a kind of "let the
man do it" attitude.'

'Do you think so?' I replied.

'I don't know,' she said. 'I was wondering whether
you thought it, that's all.'

'You mean if I think men are better at doing things
than women?'

'Yes. But with regard to childcare.'

'I don't think we're better, I just think we're
different.'

(So far, so good.)

'How?' she asked.

'Well, I think we're different in our approach to
childcare in the way that men are different in their
approach to lots of things. I think we're much more
interested in systems and order than women are. I think
we look at a task and try to implement a very logical set
of structures in order to complete it. Women, on the
other hand, tend to feel their way round a problem, and
it's a more instinctive process.'

'And you think that's the case with the way women
raise children?'

'Generally speaking, yes.'

(At this point, I knew I was well out of my depth.)

'So you think women are illogical in the way they
handle children?'

'No. They're just a little more instinctive. It's a
question of emphasis, that's all.'

'But your so-called programme is more than a
question of emphasis, isn't it?' she asked. 'I mean, your
approach seems to suggest to women, "Come on girls,
you've been doing it wrong all this time, here, let a man
step in, he'll sort it." '

I sort of laughed.

'I don't think that's what I'm saying at all, Ms Stocks.'

'Really?'

'Yes. All the Holden Childcare Programme is saying is
that there is another way of bringing up children.'

'A man's way?'

'My programme could have easily been invented by a
woman.'

'But women are more instinctive, you say. They don't
use programmes or systems or logic.'

'You're somewhat polarising my position. All I said is
that it's a question of emphasis.'

'But there's no way that your programme is just a
little bit of emphasis, or a subtle nudge or anything like
that. It's a completely revolutionary approach to
childcare.'

'Thank you,' I said. 'I'm glad you think so.'

'A male approach to childcare.'

'Not necessarily.'

'Then why is it called
WonderHubby
?'

Again, I sort of laughed – the bitch had me.

'Well, you know, it's just a nice light-hearted title for
the show.'

'Yes, but it's all about how a man is going into a
woman's world and telling her how to do things.'

'You make it sound like I'm ordering them around.'

'Well you do, don't you?'

'Not at all. It's a consultative process. That's the
whole point of management consultancy, as I said at the
beginning. The word "consult" is absolutely key.'

'It's a strange kind of consultancy that involves going
into people's houses and sticking incomprehensible
charts on walls with very long words and then giving
them precise instructions about what they should and
shouldn't be doing.'

'Well, obviously for the sake of the show we've had to
distil many aspects of the Holden Childcare Programme
into a short space of time, so it probably makes me look
bossier than I am!'

'OK,' she said. 'I can see that we're not getting
anywhere here. But I would like to ask you this. You say
your wife works, is that right?'

'Quite so.'

'And that you're a househusband.'

'That's correct.'

'Except you're not really, are you? You're making this
programme. So what I want to know is this: who looks
after your children on a day-to-day basis?'

Fucking bitch, I thought. Why the hell did she have it
in for me so badly? Would anybody actually enjoy
listening to these nasty little chippy left-wing questions?
Nevertheless, I thought it best to be honest.

'We have a nanny,' I said.

'A male nanny?'

'No, a female nanny.'

'Why do you have a female nanny?'

'It's of no consequence whether our nanny is male or
female. It just so happens that ours is female. Most are,
you know.'

'I do indeed.'

I had rather hoped that would be the end of that
thread, but it so wasn't.

'And does your female nanny use the Holden
Childcare Programme?'

I should have seen that one coming a mile off.

'I'm afraid not,' I said. 'I'm afraid you can't teach an
old dog new tricks!'

Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck, I thought.

'You're calling your nanny an old dog?'

'No! It's just a figure of speech!'

'Rather an offensive one, wouldn't you say?'

I didn't reply.

'But your "old dog" doesn't use your system?'

'No.'

'Why not?'

'Because she has her own way of doing things.'

'Ways that you approve of?'

'Absolutely.'

'And she's a woman?'

'Yes.'

'So a woman's way can be the right way, yes?'

'Yes of course.'

'So what's the point of your programme?'

'As I keep saying, it's a question of emphasis. And
besides, people don't have to use my programme. It's
just another way of doing things.'

'So perhaps I should be interviewing your nanny
instead of you?'

'Perhaps you should. But you asked
me
, didn't you?'

'We did indeed,' said Ms Stocks, her tone indicating
that she wanted to throttle her producer.

We paused momentarily.

'Another thing confuses me,' she said.

'What?' I asked bad-temperedly.

'You say that you're a househusband, and yet you
have made a TV programme. Do you think it's really fair
to describe yourself as such?'

'Yes. If I hadn't been a househusband, then the show
would have never come about.'

'Maybe, but how long were you a househusband for?'

'It's not a question of "were", I still am.'

'How can you be if you have a nanny?'

'The nanny is a temporary measure while I make and
promote the show. When this is over, the nanny will go.
If I were a cook promoting a cookbook, you wouldn't
turn round and say that I was no longer a cook because
I wasn't spending every waking hour in the kitchen. It's
absurd to suggest otherwise.'

'Thank you for that,' she replied. 'But let's face facts
here. There's no such thing as a househusband. It's just
a myth. Aren't the men who describe themselves as
househusbands just being ironic, because they either
don't need the money, or they've got some lucrative
part-time job they can do at home?'

'Not at all,' I said. 'I've met plenty of househusbands,
and they are all genuine.'

'Genuine?'

I thought of all those prats I met at the zoo the year
before last, when I tried to bond with the 'HouseBands'
– Tet and Spilby and all those stupid crusties. The truth
was that they were a bunch of arrogant alternative
wankers, who were as prescriptive about their lifestyle as
they claimed people like me were about mine.

'Yes, genuine,' I said. 'Most househusbands are the
primary carers of their children, and although a few
have some part-time work, so do many housewives, and
yet they are still described as such.'

'Do you describe people as housewives?'

'Yes of course.'

'And you don't think calling them that is in some way
derogatory?'

'No, it's a statement of fact. And don't give me any
politically correct crap that they should be called
homemakers.'

'I wasn't going to.'

'Good.'

'I just wondered whether the term "househusband" is
in fact offensive to women, more so than housewife.'

'For heaven's sake, why?'

'Because the word "househusband" is always used
ironically, as if to suggest that the role is some kind of
cultural joke or anomaly. While the female equivalent
"housewife" is used matter-of-factly, it also carries those
same negative connotations, and it will never lose them
unless the word "househusband" is used seriously.'

'Well that sounds like utter bunkum, Miss Stocks.'

(I used the 'Miss' deliberately, and I could see her
seethe.)

'Hardly the most sophisticated argument, Mr
Holden.'

'Your point of view doesn't require sophistication.
You have got it into your fat head that men just spend
their time laughing about housewives all day, whereas in
fact they don't. Your militancy is just perpetuating a
difference that no longer needs to be there.'

'I'd ask you to retract that I am fat.'

'I didn't say you were fat.'

'You said I had a fat
head
.'

'Jesus! "Fat head", in case you haven't heard, is
another figure of speech that denotes that someone's
thinking is somewhat clouded.'

'So the word "fat" carries a negative connotation?'

'Of course. What is this? Some kind of mid-1990s
campfire debate at a shit American university? I suppose
you call yourself "differently sized", whereas in fact you
are simply fat.'

'I find you remarkably offensive.'

'Well, you are fat, aren't you?'

In fact, she was probably clinically obese.

'And even if I were, what would be the problem with
that?'

'Um, where shall I begin? Increased risk of heart
disease, increased risk of cancer, increased risk of
strokes, excessive pressure on your ligaments and bones
– any more you would like me to mention? People like
you create an all too literal burden on the health service
because you are incapable of self-discipline. As a result
of your inability to control yourself, you look for other
parts of your life that you can control. With you, I'm
afraid it's other people and the way they live their lives.'
'Have you quite finished?'

'No. I've come on to your programme in a spirit of
good will, and all you have done is insult me and make
snide remarks. People like you are so out of touch with
ordinary people's lives, and yet you are totally unwilling
to accept that. You can fuck off back to Greenham
Common, frankly.'

'I think we should end it now.'

'Why? Have we run out of time?'

'I'm afraid so, Mr Holden.'

'Well, it's not live, so why don't we continue?'

'I'm afraid it is live.'

'Oh fuck.'

Friday 8 August

I can't actually believe that my interview has made the
papers, but it has. In a big way. Perhaps it's because it's
the silly season and there's bugger all else to write about.

Page five of the
Herald
: WONDERHUBBY TELLS
SUPERFEMMY TO F.O.!

Page five of the
Bugle
: F-WORD WONDERHUBBY
SHAME!

Page eleven of the
Clarion
: NEW CHILDCARE
GURU IN SPAT WITH LEADING FEMINIST

Page six of the
Daily News
: WONDERHUBBY
SOCKS IT TO JULIA

Page nine of the
Gleaner
: F*** OFF TO
GREENHAM, SAYS WONDERHUBBY

'This is all fucking brilliant,' said Dom when he phoned
at 8.20 this morning. 'You're a fucking PR genius. Great
stunt, mate. Emma didn't tell me you were going to do
all that. How sweet of you to keep it a surprise! I'm
touched, mate, I really am.'

'Er, it wasn't exactly planned as such.'

'What? It was all spur-of-the-moment stuff? You're
kidding!'

'I'm afraid it was.'

'Doesn't matter. What matters is that we've got the
WonderHubby
brand out there, all over the place. Red
tops and broadsheets. Waldman is going to really dig
this, you wait.'

I did wait, and not for long. Waldman phoned at 8.50.

'Sam, dig!'

'Thanks Dave. I was a bit worried . . .'

'Don't be! Everybody hates that lefty old bitch. You
certainly showed her where to stick it. Fuck off to
Greenham, brilliant!'

'Thanks!'

'However, let's not have too much more of that, OK?
I don't want you making a name for yourself as some
rude cunt, all right?'

'I promise not to be a rude cunt.'

'Dig!'

And with that, Waldman put the phone down.

Since then, I've been taking stock. At the beginning
of the year, I was just an anonymous bloke living in an
anonymous village in an anonymous county who didn't
have a job and just looked after the children. Now I'm
slowly turning into some sort of media figure, and the
TV programme hasn't even aired yet.

I shared all this with Sally over supper.

'Please don't let it go to your head,' she said.

'I'm not. In fact, I'm finding the whole thing rather
humbling. More than that, I confess it's a little bit scary.'

'How?'

'Because when you become a public figure, you have
to give yourself to everybody. And not everybody is
going to like you, and they're going to say nasty things.
Suddenly you don't have control of your self-image any
more, and I find that a little frightening.'

'But I thought you were desperate to be famous.'

'I was,' I admitted. 'But now I'm about to become
famous, I'm finding it's not quite what I thought it was.
You become a cartoon figure, two-dimensional. Like
some painting in a gallery that anybody is free to come
along and do whatever they like to. They can spray on
me, shred me, whatever.'

'Draw a funny moustache and spectacles on you . . .'

I laughed.

'You're right,' I said. 'I'm being a bit too serious.'