mid-1990's, anti-racist all day festie
It was in some park in London, I forget which one. Big day festie, bands, DJ's all the usual stuff to celebrate diversity and oppose evil racism. right on.

While taking some shade under a tree, noticed a young afro-caribbean chap march up to a nearby burger van, push through the assembled crowd (of white trendy liberals) and demand his chicken and egg burger from the man at the counter.
Much shuffling of feet from the rest of the queue was apparent, as were a few sidelong glances in the style of 'the evils'. But mostly the guardian-reading types just pretended it wasn't happening.

reply received from fellow betan...
You know that has little do with the fact he's black.
It's almost definitely because the queue were British. If somebody pushes their way to the front of the queue, regardless of colour or creed, the vast majority of people will disapprove but take no action, especially if you do it with enough selfconfidence.

my reply to the reply...
Could well be, us Brits are notorious for queue related shenanigans. I found it ironic given the location however.
(bollox, not again, Sat 24 Nov 2007, 19:24, 2 replies)

Polish bloke, social scientist, found himself in a small island group...
... off the coast of Papua New Guinea back in 1914. Technically he was an enemy alien (that neck of the woods was under British control, Poland was controlled by the Austro-Hungarian Empire, on opposite sides in the Great War). But the Brits were happy to let him wander around doing his fieldwork. After the war he got a job at the LSE and produced a series of books in the 1920s, the most celebrated of which was The Sexual Life Of Savages - a key text for Social Anthropology departments up and down the land well into the 1980s (and probably still).
( writerblock ... embedding disabled by request on, Sat 24 Nov 2007, 18:44, Reply)

Back at first school...
My best friend and I were playing a game, some imagination malarky, the important thing being that she chose her name to be 'Gaye'. A playground assistant overheard us playing, and we were taken off the playground and into the cloakroom for a telling off over using the word 'gay'. We tried to explain that we were playing a game and it was the NAME 'Gaye' we were using, but would she have any of it? Fat slag.

I don't know why she was even there. She was the mother of a girl in our class, but whether she was an official assistant or what, who knows. When I flashed my pants in school, she was the old hag who kept going 'don't forget to go to the headteachers office at THREEE' whilst I was scared shitless. And when her precious little daughter was running around pulling our skirts down? NOTHING. Gah.

Uhh.. off topic. But yeah, the whole 'Gaye' thing. Then again, this was a school that confused the heck out of us by suddenly telling us we had to pronounce 'Jesus' as 'Jesu' in the school hymns.
(Wheeler back off Amazon, she's mine!, Sat 24 Nov 2007, 18:42, 1 reply)

I've just remembered this one...
Back when I was a right-on lefty student writing for the student union mag, I found myself part of a political correctness storm regarding the works of one Marshall Bruce Mathers III.

Sheffield University, as some of you will know, have their own part-time radio station, SURE, of which I was one of the producers on the late-night rock show presented by my mate, who we shall call Richard (for that is his name).

Anyway, after one show, Richard informed me of the University's ban on the airplay of any records by Eminem. Apparently, there had been fervent complaints by the Women's Support and LGBT sections of the Student Union with regard to Eminem's 'chauvinistic, misogynistic and homophobic and frankly offensive lyircs', how he had a negative opinion of women and how the Union had an obligation to disapprove of such injustice.

Now, I actually studied at Sheffield Hallam, and my friends on the Union paper (SPress - how I miss it so) had got wind of this too, so we decided to get one over on our academic rivals and stage some kind of stunt.

So, with me as photographer, 6 Union-employed lovelies with t-shirts displaying one letter each of EMINEM burst into the Sheffield Union, made a silent protest at the bar, then demanded that 'Brown Sugar' (the Rolling Stones song covering such topics as slave rape), 'Boom A-Bye-Bye' (Buju Banton's famous advocacy of shooting homosexuals) and 'Polly' (Nirvana famous song supposedly about rape) should be stuck on the jukey, seeing as none of these artists have been banned despite the fact that they're seemingly promoting the very things that Eminem was being castigated for. I recall us chanting 'FREE SPEECH' as we piled in through the doors but I think that might have been the beer talking.

Anyway this caused furore in the storm-in-a-teacup factory that was the Sheffield Union offices, and to save face (and being shown up further by the oh-so-hilarious protests we had got planned) Eminem was restored to his full glory, celebrated by my good friend Richard supplanting his heavy rock broadcast the first week back with plenty of Slim Shady's finest recordings, then finishing his show off with a play of Nine Inch Nails lovelorn ballad 'Closer' (you know the one, it's got the line "I want to fuck you like an animal" in it).

We've all worked hard to create a fair society, and am an advocate for egalitarianism (look it up), but it really frustrates me that such situations occur, and it's fair to say that much of the uber-Political Correctness hindering our society germinates in the right-on student unions across the country. If we ban Eminem for a few misplaced lyrics about wanting to kill his missus, what next? The Beatles going off air because John Lennon used to slap Yoko Ono about a bit?

Of course not.
(scentless_apprentice takes two bottles into the shower!, Sat 24 Nov 2007, 18:39, 1 reply)

I got told off for calling someone a "Nigger"
But they call each other it all the time! What teh fuck? PC gone mad I tell you, Those nazi facist liberal cunts basically shipping Blue people over in their MILLIONS! Ben Elton PERSONALLY stole my job. Grumble Gripe Whine Bitch Moan Paki Yarrgh.
(Slyph, Sat 24 Nov 2007, 18:33, 3 replies)

Try living in Switzerland...
I'd heard that in some respects, Switzerland is a bit, well, backward. Y'know, compulsory church tax, laws for no working on Sunday without special permission, etc. When we got here we found that a lot of it is true to an extent and being a bit behind the times, there's not too much PC about.
Then we found out that a lot of that is down to the biggest party here being the equivalent of the BNP with computer games on their site where you can shoot EU ministers and stop (non-white)foreigners from getting passports...
It's like Germany, 1936...
Now, a lot of my Swiss friends here disown this lot and go to great pains to say that their only supporters are inbred farmers in secluded valleys, but when our boss told one of the Ph.Ds (whose studying quantum mechanical simulations, no less) to clean the fridge out because it's women's work he was honestly surprised when she objected.
So instead of looking at his opinion again, he got one of the secretaries to do it...
( Colonel Boris "...a desperate Buzzfeed imitation...", Sat 24 Nov 2007, 18:24, 2 replies)

back when i was at school
I did an evening class for special needs kids on a Friday. It was all races, playing with balls, dancing that kind of thing.

In the summer we did a week long course and twice a week we would go from the leisure centre where the course was held to a nearby school to use their pool.

Now this meant walking alongside a fairly busy road. Many of the kids had behavioural problems, many were Down's or autistic. They'd quite happily run into traffic if the mood took them, or one kid spooked another or something. Simple problem to fix you'd think? Just hold the kid by the hand and then you can make sure they don't go anywhere near the road. No. Because some muppet at the council had decided that this constituted 'innapropriate touching' of the children. So instead we had to use stern words and cross our fingers. It's a small miracle no-one got hurt
(pmsc, Sat 24 Nov 2007, 18:11, 2 replies)

after perusing scentless_apprentice' post
I was not aware that in England you get time of for muslim religious events if you are muslim, but not christian.

Surely that means our cousins of middle eastern decent should be happy to be scribbling away in school over Christmas - they do not believe in Jesus and all Christmas stands for, so why ge the time off school?
(shamen Geekius Maximus, Sat 24 Nov 2007, 18:06, 3 replies)

Wendy in "Bob The Builder"
WTF is that all about? A female builder?
(rogerzilla, Sat 24 Nov 2007, 18:05, 4 replies)

Apparently...
Because of my ethnic background (my Dad's Iranian) and supposed 'religious upbringing' (on my birth certificate it says I was born Muslim) I was allowed to have Eid ul-Fitr and Eid ul-Adha off school to celebrate the festivals. This was part of my school's acknowledgement of it's cultural diversity and willingness to please the local minority communities (Political Correctness or Equality For All? You decide!).

However, I didn't know this, and didn't find out until I was in college. When I confronted my dear mum (the wardrobe launching, UKIP supporting, shopped-her-own-son-to-the-cozzers mum) about this, her response was...

1. I'm white
2. I'm more Yorkshire than Geoffrey Boycott
3. I love bacon
4. All of the three above kind of justify her actions.

Now, I was quite impressed by this display of reductional logic by my dear ma, because she was never known for her brains.

But, then she topped it off with something on a completely different school of thought and much more in keeping with her philosophically challenged reputation...

"And anyway, them Pakis get Christmas and Easter off as it is, lazy sods should be grateful for that. Fookin' Political Correctness gone mad."

I love my mum. Blind to her own family's background, and the female equivalent of Bernard Manning.
(scentless_apprentice takes two bottles into the shower!, Sat 24 Nov 2007, 17:58, Reply)

Yank Land
For those that dont know, I work in Merkin land. The money is good, and the petrol cheap, so who am I to grumble?

I digress, PC is nuts over here. Take, for example, Christmas. Its no longer Christmas. Its now a "holiday". Christmas party now is 'holiday party', so as not to offend people of non christian religions. I hear its getting the same in the UK.

While that does piss me off a bit, what pisses me off even more is the fact that other religious festivals, such as Hanuka (Jewish) and Divali (Hindi), are in fact openly celebrated by this and many other companies during "Hanuka" or "Divali" parties. Not "holiday" or "special religious time period event" parties, so it seems OK to have religious events, but ony if you are not Christian. PC gone mad, if you ask me. Cunts.
(shamen Geekius Maximus, Sat 24 Nov 2007, 17:46, 4 replies)

'Disabled' terminology...
as much as I hate the Daily-Mail-reading "it's PC gone mad!!!" attitude (and the implication that there's some sort of left-wing "PC brigade" conspiracy or whatever), there are some fairly amusing cases of, well, I'm not sure what to call it. Bureaucrats going overboard in trying not to be offensive, really.

The ones I've seen: Posters around the university, on random noticeboards, doors etc. Meaningless "abstract art" picture covering most of the poster, and then the text:
Disabled Toilets X
Accessible Toilets (tick mark)
or
Wheelchair Bound X
Wheelchair User* (tick mark)
.. and a few more on that sort of theme). "PC" aside, it boggles the mind to think that there are people who
- come up with this sort of thing
- think that anyone in a wheelchair or whatever would be offended by this
- think that a naff poster like that is the best way to spread the word, and won't just invite ridicule.

* (actually, the wheelchair one *almost* makes sense - I do know people who *can* walk, but mostly go around in a wheelchair because their joints hurt or whatever. Still, I doubt they'd give a fuck about the finer points of terminology. EDIT: Indeed, two girls I know who are in the wheelchair-user-not-wheelchair-bound situation were recently sitting in the corner at a house party along with a few other people who have chronic diseases and/or disabilities. They were referring to themselves as "Crips' corner". Go figure.)
(julius, Sat 24 Nov 2007, 17:30, Reply)

Natural Justice.....
First post - woot!
Ahem...
Mum and I had gone to Europe to sort out some Family matters in Croatia (apologies to the England fans!). On the way home we stopped in the UK for a week or so. We were at the front of the queue, lined up for a checkout in M&S in Oxford St. A young Afro-Carribean chap was the only one serving. Suddenly a young A-C woman stood in front of us and he took her next.
Mum and I looked at each other - this wasn't fair, but to say anything would make us look like colonial oppressors. The PC fear had made us hold our tongues.
Then we heard this voice behind us say "I SAY, LOOK HERE YOUNG MAN."
It was an elderly A-C gentleman. He then proceeded to berate the young dude for his rudeness, and then berate the lady for her rudeness! He demanded that Mum and I be served first.
The young dude's head did a turtle into his shirt, told the woman to go to the back of the queue. He apologised and served us.
We thanked the gentleman, who smiled and said "They can't be allowed to get away with it!"

Length? We were travelling for 5 weeks.
(Sebulba continues to fight evil with evil....., Sat 24 Nov 2007, 17:13, 1 reply)

I'm actually something of a liberal douche.....
....so most efforts towards equality and fair practice are fine by me. What does irritate me is how health and safety (effectively an exercise in common sense) has become a massive, deeply patronising industry. I have recently been on the receiving end of a two hour monologue which could be summerised thus;

1) If an item looks heavy don't try lifing it yourself.
2) Why not ask a friend to help you.
3) Don't lift like a twat.

I even received a certificate to show I'd "passed" this awesome challenge. I'm increasingly pissed that money was forked out for this drivel.

Length? Far, far longer than it needed to be.
(Leonard Hatred briefly did some work on, Sat 24 Nov 2007, 17:03, 3 replies)

worse than political correctness
is people who, when you mention Christmas, say "Christmas was originally a pagan festival actually" with a tone like it's this amazing secret mind-blowing knowledge.
(apeloverage committed the vile act of onanism on, Sat 24 Nov 2007, 16:54, 4 replies)

"Who hires these people?"
My client works for a very PC corporation with a US head office based in Atlanta.

They've recently hired a new CEO, who is this very nondescript looking Continental European fellow, but who - according to my client - is actually a pretty funny guy, if a little blunt.

Last week my client was telling me about one of his colleagues - an obese black woman with a reputation for incompetence - who was just fired.

Upon hearing about this the CEO apparently said, in very forceful terms, in his pidgin English (imagine every other word literally being spat with great disgust):
"She's a black, fat, woman. Who hires people like that? You can never, EVER fire them."

The Americans in the room moved like lightning to provide on-the-spot PC training to him, but secretly he's become an instant legend to them.
(Thomas_The_Spankengine, Sat 24 Nov 2007, 15:53, 1 reply)

Malteezers and Chicken
I was working in a secondary school the other day, trying to teach some 15/16 year olds to play Samba Reggae. They were having particular difficulty with the bossa nova clave. The students were getting frustrated, and went off on a tangent, telling me that their whole year group have been banned from saying the words "Malteezer" and "Chicken" - I later discovered that this was something to do with mixed race people - brown on the outside and white on the inside and vice versa... To my delight, I realised that these two words together fitted perfectly with the bossa nova a clave and got the whole group chanting Mal_ _tee_ _zer_ _ _chi_ _cken, thus enabling the group to learn to play in time. Huzzah!
(themothers, Sat 24 Nov 2007, 15:33, Reply)

On my first attempt at uni
I referred to a slacking groupmate who refused to do any useful work on the assumption we'd be too scared to fail the degree (which i dropped out of) to not do his work for him as a 'fat useless welsh c**t'

Oddly enough I got into a lot of trouble for the word 'Welsh'
( Sack Sack - Norfolks laziest, Sat 24 Nov 2007, 15:24, Reply)

I parked in a disabled parking space once
it worked just fine.
( St. Defenestration The REAL one, Sat 24 Nov 2007, 13:33, 3 replies)

It's all gone a bit PT for PC, or something
I work in a shop which is just down the road from a home for the mentally retarded. We regularly get visits from what I call, "window-lickers." I naturally get moaned at for using such a phrase, since it's not exactly the most poltically correct of terms.

Imagine my joy when the same term was used by our supposed-to-be-professional auditor, who just happens to be a stunning blonde lass, with a lovely arse for good measure.
(Roll Fizzlebeef enjoys a good Cleveland Steamer, Sat 24 Nov 2007, 13:22, Reply)

I have a friend who is a preacherman ..
.. or whichever title is appropriate, in this case your language seems to have a lot of words for the same thing. He conducts sermons in a free church. Utterly nice chap, extrovert, splendid sense of humour. He once stated that I would have fit in perfectly with Monty Python. Did I mention that he is a nice chap?

Since I'm not really religious in any meningful sense, I've never seen him at work, but apparently it's both entertaining and fairly informal. You know, electric guitars, digital projectors, etc.

Last year he asked me if I could illustrate a passage from the Bible (I don't recall which) for his sermon. Use my creativity. Make something interesting. This was in the wake of the Mohammed Caricature crisis and the embassy fires had not entirely died out, so naturally I came up with this idea:



Oddly, it was turned down. Not by my friend though; he still holds the drawing in high regard and occasionally apologises that he was never allowed to use it.
(spinoza, Sat 24 Nov 2007, 12:36, 2 replies)

Meetings
Im at work, its quiet. I was thinking, if there are these constant meetings/directives to "re-name" issues, surely everyone involved must know what the offensive word means in th efirst place (or they will have to define it) - I just see a mental image of all these hand-wringing people (prolly white, middle class) getting all up-tight cos they've used or thought of a word which is taboo and needs redefing
(kitescreech still here, Sat 24 Nov 2007, 12:03, Reply)

Hmmm...
This really is an interesting QOTW.

We all seem to be leaning away from PCness but society as a whole DOESN'T. Why is this?

As an employee of a v. large corporation that is PC'd to the nines I've often noted that black / lesbian / disabled / whatever people can be complete cnuts as well and we're being just as patronising to them by not recognising the fact. Why can't I call a bloke in a wheelchair a wanker if a wanker is what he is?
(Audioduck So, can I haz fucking Cheezburgers or not?, Sat 24 Nov 2007, 12:01, Reply)

My Son's Dog.
A couple of years ago I got my son, who was six at the time, a dog. I’d read something about children who get brought up with pets being less prone to allergies and so on as they get older, and also thought it might be good for him to learn about how to treat animals properly and so on. Anyway, I got the dog from a rescue home. They told me it would be perfect as a child’s first pet, as it was a truly gorgeous border collie that was only three years old with a wonderful temperament and had been well kept and looked after by it’s previous owner, an elderly lady who had sadly passed away.

Obviously, my child loved the dog, as did the dog him. He named it, and with me in tow he’d take it for endless walks, which the dog adored, would let it sleep on his bed and rushed to hug it when coming home from school BEFORE he paid any attention to his mother and me. I was a happy man, as I thought my various plans were all working well. Then it all started to go wrong.

This gorgeous, soft, friendly, playful animal I had brought into our home slowly started to turn. It wasn’t particularly noticeable for the first couple of weeks; the dog just wasn’t as friendly and playful as he had used to be. He spent more and more time in front of the fire, not wanting to go for walks and ignoring my child’s attempts to cajole him into rushing around the house, damaging furniture. Over time, his behaviour got steadily worse. He would growl at me and my wife, do his business all over the house, rush around like a lunatic and then collapse in front of the fire and not move for several hours. Interestingly, he was still very affectionate towards my son, didn’t growl or bite at him, which still makes me kind of happy.

Anyway, after a particularly unpleasant episode, in which he gave me several large puncture marks on my forearm, I decided he had to go to the vet. I took him along, waited patiently and was told to leave him in overnight to let the vet do some tests. When I returned the following day, the vet had some bad news: This beautiful animal, which my son adored, had contracted an aggressive form of cancer that had raged through his body, corrupting everything it touched. The cancer had spread to his brain which, the vet said, explained his erratic behaviour, and he would have to be put down. Nothing could be done. I told the vet to do what was necessary, and shed a few tears as his leg was shaved and the needle gently inserted. The gorgeous border collie died with me stroking his head and whispering into his ear.

The vet then asked me if I wished to take the body with me, or if I’d prefer for them to dispose of it at the practice. I obviously chose the former, telling the vet that my son adored the animal and that I felt it would be best to bury the dog in the back garden and explain what had happened. This was the first problem.

The vet explained that I couldn’t bury my dog in my garden, as my local council had passed a law requiring all animals being buried to be placed in a pet cemetery. The vet gave me some leaflets, and I went home.

I looked over the leaflets. The prices for the cemeteries were all rather expensive, and the vet’s treatment had already cost me most of my expendable income. Anyway, my son came home, and I explained to him about his dog, that he had been very sick and not himself any more. There were many tears, and I explained that I thought he would like to bury him in the garden as a last goodbye. Bollocks to the council I thought, no-one will mind.
‘No,’ my son said. ‘I want to give him a funeral like the Lord of the Rings.’ I thought for a minute, and then realised he meant the pyre scene where that bloke who’s alive nearly gets burnt. I was puzzled, by son was adamant. Only cremation was good enough for HIS dog.
So, I built a pyre, placed the cold, dead animal (carefully wrapped in an old sheet) on top, and took my son outside to say one final goodbye.

The pyre caught, and the wood began to burn. The flames licked ever higher, and I held my son tightly as he emitted small sobs. Then, there was a wailing of sirens and lots of shouting. Two men burst through my side door, carrying a large hose. They doused the flames, sending the slightly smoking corpse flying, whilst my son looked on in horror. I was then given an almighty dressing down by the chief fire officer, about the dangers of unsupervised fires in my back garden (apparently me watching it didn’t count) and also about the illegality of cremating animals without a permit. I was lucky, he concluded, that the police hadn’t been called and myself arrested.

Furious, I rang my council and explained the situation to them. I asked them what I could do with the body, as I wanted my son to be able to say goodbye, and explained the various problems I’d had so far. The person on the end of the line explained that the only option available to me that was permitted, seeing as I couldn’t afford the pet cemetery, was to leave the dog out for the binmen. I was staggered, but warned that attempting anything else would almost certainly land me in trouble.
So, it came to pass that myself and my son were stood outside the house and half-six one cold Tuesday morning in November, waiting for the binmen to arrive and give my son’s beloved pet a ‘funeral.’ They arrived, picked up the body, and began to walk with it towards the truck. My son was crying, almost uncontrollably. Sobs shook his small frame. It wasn’t the way he’d imagined his friend and companion going, at the bitter end.
The body was unceremoniously thrown into the crusher and my son began crying even more. It was the saddest sound I’ve ever heard, the pure, undiluted grief of a small boy, totally unused to death, seeing his beloved pet treated in such a callous manner. The crusher began to activate, and the sheet covered corpse began to slide out of view. My son, inbetween his pitiful sobs, managed some simple words:

‘Goodbye, Political Correctness. I wish you hadn’t gone mad and had to go to sleep.’

Why he called the dog that, I’ll never know.
(spangledonkey I've got a mouse. His name is Gerald., Sat 24 Nov 2007, 11:34, 11 replies)

Spastic
I once got told off for describing a patients limb as "spastic" - its a medical term, nothing to do with mental handicap/learning disability; rather it refers to a stiff, inflexible limb (arm in this case).

Mind, the person questioning me was a fucking Spastic (and all her limbs worked just fine)
(kitescreech still here, Sat 24 Nov 2007, 11:29, Reply)

Useful shorthand
I find the phrase "It's political correctness gone mad!" and its close cousin "I'm not racist but..." to be fantastically useful verbal shorthand for "It's ok, you can stop listening to me now as anything that follows this neat and catchy phrase is going to be utter bollocks, probably racist and/or sexist, possibly made up factoids, probably inspired by right wing wank like the Daily Mail and entirely and irredeemably fucking pointless."

And breathe...

I'm sure that someone has already posted this sort of comment but I'm too lazy to check. This is probably because of the deplorable education I received at school in nanny-state* Britain.


*'Nanny-state' that's another 'stop listening' wank-word.
(Wascally Weasel now with 100% fewer jokes., Sat 24 Nov 2007, 11:29, 1 reply)

PC vs Equality
Political Correctness and Equality are two separate issues.

Equality is about offering the same life choices to anyone irrespective of their race, gender, ability or faith.

Political Correctness is a sickening blight on art, music, literature, lifestyles etc that demands you pander to the chosen offence of every minority imaginable by the order of the white liberal 'superior.

Equality is a good thing, PC is a nonce-bumming monstrosity suitable only for jam-woggy spackophiles.
(MistahG, Sat 24 Nov 2007, 11:19, Reply)

Thought shower
twiceydrinkey has already posted this story first:

b3ta.com/questions/politicalcorrectness/post101195

Namely that people have been told not to use the term 'brainstorm' because it my be offensive to epileptics. While this was originally a made up story, it has filtered through as truth (a bit like when comedians joked decades ago about the idea of privatising water (H2O Co was the gag, can't remember the comedian). Five years later the govt did).

Anyway, so on being told that brainstorm was potentially offensive by our touchy-feeley and right on 'learning & development' resource, we were then told to use the substitute term "Thought Shower".

"Isn't that potentially offensive to the incontinent?" I said.*





*Three days later when I finally thought of it.
(Wascally Weasel now with 100% fewer jokes., Sat 24 Nov 2007, 11:03, Reply)