Pole dancing in the library?
You know, when it comes to encouraging people to read I figured that the best way of doing it was to make books seem exciting and accessible and fun. Then I saw that a library in Scotland has taken a bit shit over such methods, opting instead to (get this) offer pole dancing lessons instead.
Yeah, you read that right. Pole dancing lessons. Amongst the book shelves. So now instead of wandering in to borrow Fifty Shades of Grey you can actually rub your steaming crotch against a pole as the blokes cut holes in their newspapers to take it all in like peeping bloody Toms.
OK, so this was a one-off as part of a Love Your Library day in Dalkieth, but come on. At what point did re-enacting porn amongst the Dr Seuss books even begin to sound like a good idea? Imagine it, taking kids into a library to discover the delight of annuals, novels, encyclopaedias and the magic therein only to have to watch their mother and the ageing librarians wrap their flanks around what looks like a shiny, twelve foot high penis. Seriously, if that encourages kids to go into libraries then they are probably strong contenders for some sort of lobotomising.
See, the library also reckons the whole escapade was to encourage healthy lifestyles as well as book borrowing, what with the pole dancing representing healthy weight, flexibility and strength. So what in the frig was wrong with buying in a few hula hoops, skipping ropes or having a bloody sack race?
Oh, and way to go on the whole business of encouraging girls to sexify themselves at the earliest possible age. I now have grim visions of a seven year old girl going into the library to look for books on the wonders of the solar system or Greek mythology only to leave with the message that she needs to strengthen her arse muscles for maximum pole grippage.
So, no, as much as I love my library I as sure as shit don't love transforming it into the equivalent of a Belgian sex den. Perhaps the brains behind this scheme in Dalkeith could educate themselves with their books before they try it again and if I ever get my hands on that pole I'll know exactly where to stick it.
Cath Janes is forming a black hole of fury so you don't have to. No really, she is. Check it out at The Kraken Wakes if you don't believe her. And yes, she's always been this furious, even when she was an award winning writer and columnist for the UK's newspapers. Motherhood shat all over that particular dream by exploding her vagina then rewarding her with a breakdown of such catastrophic proportions that she's just spent two years shouting at people in bus stations. But now she's back, and she is The Kraken. You have been warned. Connect with her on Twitter @CathJanes.