06-02-2025
Now not even Lego is safe from today's gender obsessed loonies
I've been going to
I loved connecting electric circuits to make a tiny light bulb come on: thrilling entertainment in the power-restricted dolour of the 1970s.
Three decades later I took my own children, who were excited to discover, courtesy of an infrared camera mapping visitors by bodily warmth, that their mum was so frozen she was practically the living dead. I marched home triumphant to my thermostat-restricting husband and told him it had been 'scientifically proven' that I was colder than the great mass of humanity.
What I never visited this historic institution for, was enlightenment about queer identity or gender fluidity. Kenneth Williams, David Bowie and Jan Morris did that job excellently in the 1970s and countless thinkers and celebrities have taken up the baton since.
But someone at the Science Museum still believed it imperative to instigate a self-guided tour that alerts visitors to 'stories of queer communities, experiences and identities'. This might make sense if the remit was reminding people of the inhumane way that geniuses, such as Alan Turing, were once treated purely on the grounds of their sexuality.
But, no, the Gender and Sexuality Network at the Science Museum, who devised the queer tour
Apparently, the Danish plastic bricks adds weight to the 'heteronormative' notion that there are only two sexes, because the protruding nodules can be seen as male, while the 'bottom of the brick with holes to receive the [nodules] is female, and the process of the two sides being put together is called mating'.
Forgive me, I did not write this gargantuan tosh and I'd happily incarcerate those who did for crimes against meaning and poor old science.
One unexpected offshoot of viewing the world through these queer-tinted glasses is that they've rendered my house totally obscene. For years, I worried that my shelves were smutty because of the books and magazines I hoarded when editing the Erotic Review.
Now, I gather that's a minor issue compared to the teetering towers of filth on every surface in every room (yes, my 20-year-old and his dad still build Lego).
Wherever you look there are crazed, copulating bricks making the Lego mini figure with two backs. I must admit it makes some sense of the fact that every time I clear away a great pile of bricks, more appear in their place.
It's not only Lego that's had the queer-eye-for-the-straight-exhibit makeover. The museum's tour also steers you to a Spitfire. Not for the sublime engineering and roar of its Rolls-Royce Merlin engine, but because one exceptionally brave fighter pilot (then POW), the racing driver Robert Marshall Cowell, transitioned in his 30s, becoming Roberta.
There are other egregious examples, but just repeating this guff makes me want to run amok with a woman-normative rolling pin.
You'd think the Science Museum would have learnt its lesson in 2023 when a cabinet titled 'Boy or Girl', citing transition as a 'hero's journey' and displaying chest-binding equipment and an imitation penis,
