Ginger Spice

Mike saw it first, and said,
“Oh no.”

I read it later and hid it from Ben. Never mind, I thought, it’s only The Mail exaggerating.

Then I saw it in The Times.

Apart from the family having miraculously expanded from 3 to 4 children, the story’s much the same and the quotes are identical. Must have been from P.A.

But how true is it? Are the papers leaving out the real story to make it into a more unusual tale?

One of the comments on the Times’ website hints that this may be the case…

We lived next door to this family in newcastle 8 years ago and it was the worst time of our life. Being ginger had nothing to do with it, they turned a lovely 3 bedroom house into absolute squalor, terrorised all of the street, we had to petition them to move out of our street, they were that bad.
They used the garden as a toilet, we couldnt even tell that they had ginger hair, as they were so dirty.
They verbally abused anyone walking in the street. I laughed out loud when i read Andrews article! Total Karma!

Lesley Hamilton, Newcastle upon tyne, tyne and wear

Lesley Hamilton may be part of the fiction or may be telling the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.

But the fact remains that this is considered to be a “story”, and journalists expect people with ginger hair to be bullied, teased, forced out of their homes and ostracised.

The Times try to slide out of their responsibility to report accurately by inserting the word “apparently” in a parody of the much maligned “allegedly”.

A family of six have fled two homes after enduring a vicious hate campaign, apparently prompted by the colour of their hair.

The Mail doesn’t bother with that kind of story-diluting malarkey.

A family are being forced out of their home by a gang of thugs because of their red hair.

So what’s the truth?
Are these people undesirable neighbours who are being justifiably yelled at by long-suffering victims of their anti-social behaviour?

Or are they innnocent kids being picked on for having a slightly Scottish look about them?

The Catherine Tate ginger sketch

Inside Russet Lodge, the shelter for ginger-haired people:

Sandra: Being ginger is who I am; why should I deny that?

Rita: You shouldn’t. And that’s why we’re here. We have all sorts of gingers here. Gingers in denial, confused gingers, even militant gingers.

But they have one thing in common. They don’t need to fear the outside world. They’re all welcome to stay here in peace and harmony. . . .

Duracell, ginger nut, carrot top, copper nob. We’re used to getting that kind of abuse every day out there.
People asking us to move away from areas where food is being prepared.
Total strangers assuming we’re Scottish.
Forever trawling the streets, trying to find a hairdresser’s that isn’t fully booked.
Well, not in here. This is a safe haven for everyone and everything ginger.

Let’s keep it that way.

As darkness falls outside the Russet Lodge refuge, a crowd gathers with flaming torches, carrying placards bearing the slogans “No Gingers!” and “Not In My Village”.

As the title credits roll, they are heard chanting:

“Gingers Out! Gingers Out!”

I’m sure we’ll hear more about the Chapmans in the days to come. The Mail will give page-space to their detractors and the anti-discrimination police will have their say.

But where does this leave my precious first-born?

This bizarre anti-ginger prejucide apparently doesn’t exist in the grand old USofA.
Perhaps when Bush is history, we could make a move across the pond, where bias is a whole different ball game.

Thinking about this issue has prompted a memory of my shameful teenage days to bob to the surface.
One of the girls in our “gang” (ie small group of dopey teenagers) was teased about her long, curly, red hair by the boys.
Although I never joined in, neither did I stand up and say,

“Leave her alone you scrawny, testosterone-fulled, spotty adolescents.”

Sorry Liz.