BY BEN PENSANT

I was delighted to read about the Women’s Respite Centre of East Minnesota University and their brave decision to no longer host productions of Eve Angel’s The Vagina Chronicles, the crudely offensive play that has been inciting violence and delighting self-hating menstruaters for 34 years.

Their ballsy statement was issued following a survey of students and a workshop entitled ‘Not All Women Have Vaginas’, a necessary if blindingly obvious position to defend in 2018 when women without vaginas have become such a potent demographic force, they could comfortably fill the front stalls of the Liechtenstein People’s Theatre. Their understandable objections were that the play “centres on cisgender women”, its version of feminism “excludes some women”, and it “lacks diversity and inclusion”.

Needless to say, the TERF community were furious, belittling both the decision and the workshop: “Even if it were true that not all women have vaginas, why shouldn’t there be a play about the ones who do?” they bleated, as if making up 50% of the population somehow entitles biological females to have their stories told, regardless of how much they offend men in eyeliner.

Predictably, right-wing trolls piped up: “People who find the play offensive could always not watch it!” they whined, as if this magically cancels out its hyper-dangerous content. Yep, in 2018 there are still people who don’t realise that the very existence of works of art which don’t represent every minority is problematic. (Unless the minority are Jews or lesbians, obvs.) But it’s hardly surprising. How can we expect tone-deaf dipshits to pick up on the dangerous mood music of filth like The Vagina Monolifts when they don’t even realise the very existence of women is problematic in itself?

As the EMU WRC put it, concerns about the play’s relevance to modern audiences “created a need to ask the question: do we still need The Vagina Monologues?”. Because as we know, to decide if a work of art is still needed, we should ask not the millions of people who flock to see it but the tiny percentage of blue-haired authoritarians who think an innocuous play featuring ladies talking about their private parts is as troublesome as a musical version of Mein Kampf.

Sadly, some of the survey respondents had clearly been brainwashed by the far-right, suggesting that the play should not be shelved but “modified or accompanied by a series of workshops addressing the diversity and inclusion it is lacking”. Jesus H.Corbyn. Look, in a perfect world I’d happily edit every offensive play ever written to suit modern audiences, like George Lucozade did with the Star Trek trilogy. But it ain’t gonna happen, people. These transphobes are nothing if not law-savvy, tying up their obnoxious opus in enough legal red tape to stop anyone with a conscience changing so much as a syllable.

“It is important to note that due to copyright laws we are unable to change the script” was the EMU’s terse response, leaving them with no option but to go for the most obvious course of action. And who could blame them? You made your bed, Evie. You don’t want people rewriting your stupid little play, swapping every female character for a 50-year-old bus-driver called Suzy with hands like shovels and a penchant for hiding under piles of knickers in Top Shop? Fine, just don’t complain when people decide enough’s enough.

Which is exactly what the EMU WRC did, cutting through the ‘free expression’ nonsense and devising a simple solution to the thorny issue of reactionary plays that offend a miniscule percentage of an already-miniscule percentage of the population: BAN THEM. As soon as writers, directors and actors get the message that their hateful tales will not be seen by anyone they’ll sharp stop making them. And please, don’t bother bringing up the irrelevant fact that most trans folk couldn’t care less about The Vagina Chocolatelogs and have no desire to ban it. Since when have leftists given a flying f*** what the majority think?

Luckily, US colleges have been on the right page with regards to this foul production for some time. Indeed, it was previously re-booted by the American University’s Women’s Institute, who chose to stage a rival production called The Breaking New Ground Monologues. The idea behind this was to “broaden the focus from specifically female genitalia to multiple identities and bodies”, which they essentially achieved by taking a play about vaginas and removing the vaginas.

This intersectional approach was naturally attacked by TERF trolls, who sunk even lower than usual by suggesting that if the multiple identities and bodies were so bothered about representation, they could always write a new play instead of butchering an existing one. A ridiculous argument which only exists in some alt-right dream world where the end goal is everyone being able to create what they like rather than what leftists allow them to. Still, as applaud-worthy as the WI’s actions were, they clearly didn’t go far enough. Here’s hoping in future they re-cast any revivals with first-wave transwomen and pay tribute to the early recipients of reconstructive surgery by renaming it The Split Bag Of Mince Monologues.

Because only strident steps like this will allow the theatre to regain its rightful position as the wokiest artform around. Fingers crossed this leads to Fifth Avenue and the East End getting with the program, saying ‘enough’s enough!’ and banning anything that makes more than a dozen Teen Cosmo readers cry.