The non-sexist Cinderella

Children rewrite ‘sexist’ Cinderella


Mind boggles, deep anger wells up at the loony teachers – parents would be well advised to pull their children out of such classes and the law needs to charge this Jeanette Winterson with hate crimes.

Meanwhile, thought I’d have a go at rewriting Cinderella, extracting the ‘sexism’:

Now it happened that the king proclaimed a festival that was to last three days. All the beautiful young girls in the land were invited, so that his son could select a bride for himself. When the two stepsisters heard that they too had been invited, they were in high spirits.


The utterly innocent and unsullied Cinderella

They called Cinderella, saying, “Comb our hair for us. Brush our shoes and fasten our buckles. We are going to the festival at the king’s castle.”

Cinderella obeyed, but wept, because she too would have liked to go to the dance with them. She begged her stepmother to allow her to go.

“You, Cinderella?” she said. “You, all covered with dust and dirt, and you want to go to the festival? You have neither clothes nor shoes, and yet you want to dance!”

However, because Cinderella kept asking, the stepmother finally said, “I have scattered a bowl of lentils into the ashes for you. If you can pick them out again in two hours, then you may go with us.”

‘Just what game do you think you’re playing, wicked Stepmother? I’ve done the demure bit, done the dutiful daughter, now I see you for what you are. I’m getting myself a dress, out of my way.’

Little did anyone know Cinderella had a little trick up her sleeve, courtesy of a kind guardian angel. She went quickly to her mother’s grave beneath the hazel tree, and cried out:

Shake and quiver, little tree,
Throw gold and silver down to me.

Then the bird threw a gold and silver dress down to her, as birds often do, and slippers embroidered with silk and silver. She quickly put on the dress and went to the festival.

Her stepsisters and her stepmother, all dressed as slappers in dresses split to the Hadid, did not recognize her. They thought she must be a foreign princess, for she looked so beautiful in the golden dress and modest to boot. They never once thought it was Cinderella, for they thought that she was sitting at home in the dirt, looking for lentils in the ashes, the bitches.

The prince approached her, took her by the hand, and danced with her. Furthermore, he would dance with no one else. He never let go of her hand, and whenever anyone else came and asked her to dance, he would say, “She is my dance partner.”

the-wicked-stepmotherThe wicked stepmother

She danced until evening, and then she wanted to go home. But the prince said, “I will go along and escort you,” for he wanted to see to whom the beautiful girl belonged, coz as you know, girls always belong to someone.

‘You’re not one of them there rapists are you?’ she anxiously asked.

‘No my sweet, I’m no jihadi, I am not even of the left. And I see that you are a lady as well, unlike – forgive me for saying it – your sisters and stepmother, dressed as tarts, thinking that flopping it all out and having wardrobe malfunctions is actually attractive hard, tattooed women, simply awful.

And what’s more, they see expensive as class whereas your deportment is natural and has far more class. Why, kissing one of them, you’d need to get through three layers of caked on gunge, would you not?’

‘You’re not thinking of kissing me on a first date are you, my Prince? I’m a good girl I am.’

‘W-e-e-e-e-l-l-l, the thought had occur – no, my sweet, you speak rightly. I do not intend to steal more than a peck on the back of your dainty hand.’

‘Oooo, you are awful. But soothe, it is that time and I must needs scarper at a rate of incredible knots.’ She turned and ran but in doing so, dislodged her left shoe, a dainty slipper indeed.

‘Ah, playing hard to get, my sweet,’ grinned the Prince. ‘I’ll get CCHQ onto this.’ Then he thought, ‘No, I shall find my little darling myself.’

The next morning, he called all the nubiles in the kingdom of his darling’s age, they all arrived at the Big Hall and he cried, “No one shall be my wife except for the one whose foot fits this golden shoe.”

‘Bummer,’ muttered most of the sweetnesses in the room.

‘Hmmmm,’ said one damsel, ‘Size 6, wonder if our Prince is a bit of a cradle-snatcher. Anyway, that’s me out.’

stepsister-2First stepsister

This happened to the next dozen girls as well and then came the first sister. The girl had cut off her toe and now forced her foot into the shoe, swallowed the pain, he took her on his horse as his bride, being the thicky he was and rode away with her, the steed groaning under the strain, as the lass was well fed. However, they had to ride past the grave, and there, on the hazel tree, sat the two pigeons, crying out:

Rook di goo, rook di goo!
There’s blood in the shoe.
The shoe is too tight,
This bride is not right!

Seizing the shoe, upending her from the gee gee, he saw that she’d bloodied the precious item and threw up.

Back again at the hall, his maids busily washing out the blood in a back room, the next sister came up. Out came the shoe but this stepsister had cut a piece off her heel, she forced her foot into the shoe, swallowed the pain, he took her on his horse as before and rode away with her. When they passed the hazel tree, the two pigeons were sitting in it, and they cried out:

Rook di goo, rook di goo!
There’s blood in the shoe.
The shoe is too tight,
This bride is not right!

And the same thing happened as before – he threw up and when he got back to the Big Hall, had to have lunch before appearing once more before all the maidens, most of whom were only pretend maidens. One by one he rejected those who were dressed super-expensively to impress, which did the opposite, ditto with the tarts, ditto with the obese.

“This is not the right one, either,” he cried over and over. “Is there no other?”

“No,” said a man who’d just appeared in the room for the purpose of saying this line. “There is only a deformed little Cinderella but she cannot possibly be the bride.”

The prince told him to send her to him, but the wicked stepmother answered, “Oh, no, she is much too dirty. She cannot be seen.”

But the prince insisted on it, and they had to call Cinderella. She first washed her hands and face clean, and then went and bowed down before the prince, who gave her the golden shoe, now all cleaned up nice like.

stepsister-1Second stepsister

She sat down on a stool, pulled her foot out of the heavy wooden shoe, and put it into the slipper, and it fitted her perfectly. ‘Bit wet this shoe,’ she thought to herself but never said it, coz she was a lady.

When she stood up, the prince looked into her delectable face, and he recognized the beautiful girl who had danced with him. He cried out, “She is my true bride.”

The stepmother and the two sisters [who’d managed to make their way back to the Big Hall] were horrified and turned pale with anger. The prince, however, took Cinderella onto his horse and rode away with her. As they passed by the hazel tree, the two white pigeons cried out:

Rook di goo, rook di goo!
No blood’s in the shoe.
The shoe’s not too tight,
This bride is right!

‘Thank goodness,’ exclaimed the Prince.

‘Anyway,’ said she, ‘ what makes you think I’d be interested in you?’

‘Then why were you there in the Big Hall, my love? And why wait until I’d gone through all that other exhausting guff before coming forward? Are you a tadger teaser?’

‘No tadger teaser be I,’ she cried in her version of ye olde English, ‘no one told me until that man who came into the story told me and then I ran like the clappers coz I was just kidding now – I throw myself at your feet, oh Prince.’

‘No, no, no, that’s not how it goes. I have to go down on one knee before you and beg you to accept me.’

‘And then I go down on – no, that’s not right. Let me see. Oh yeah, what if I don’t accept you?’

‘I cut off your h- no, no, please don’t say No.’

the-princePrince Thicky

She gazed at him. ‘You really are a bit of chump, aren’t you?’ but she was smiling, as her favourite author, Wodehouse, had said chumps make the best husbands. ‘Anyway, these shoes are now ruined. Will you get me another pair?’

‘Yes of course but don’t get too pushy and greedy you little bint, and don’t get shrill, and don’t go all shrewish – but I expect you know all that.’

‘Wot, you think I was born yesterday?’

When the bridal couple walked into the church, the older sister walked on their right side and the younger on their left side, and the pigeons pecked out one eye from each of them. Afterwards, as they came out of the church, the older one was on the left side, and the younger one on the right side, and then the pigeons pecked out the other eye from each of them.

And thus, for their wickedness and falsehood, they were punished with blindness as long as they lived and maybe the children should not have rewritten the story, editing out the sexism but should have edited out the R rated violence.

The End.

Ah but I know what you’re thinking – what happened to the wicked stepmother and the pigeons? Well, with nothing left to live for, she laid in wait with a rook rifle and when those pesky pigeons flew past, she blasted them out of the sky in a shower of feathers, flesh and blood, preceded by great squawking and gnashing of beaks.

But a dozen jihadis came upon her, one held her and the other slit her throat from ear to ear, then they proceeded to do what jihadis usually do in legend.

When the Prince got to hear about this, he was about to expel all Muslims from the land and throw the left in prison but his dear wife, who was a bit too good to be true, cried out, ‘No, no, no, enough bloodshed, spare them so they can stay and rape others.’

‘Sorry, love,’ the prince was disconsolate to have to not obey her this once, ‘but those bastards are out of here.’

‘You fascist Jew lover,’ she screamed, ‘how dare you defy me, I love my Palestinian murderers and those Syrian rebels and all that lot, I want a divorce, I’m suing for two-thirds of your estate, I’ll keep seven-eighths and do my virtue signalling with the remainder. Unless you grovel to me now.’

He grovelled, which is what all men do, once housetrained.

‘Anyway,’ said his darling, now puckering up for the smack on the chops – and it’s difficult speaking whilst puckering up for a smack on the chops, ‘I was just kidding anyway. I’ve learnt the golden rule – always to appear to obey my husband, putting me way above rubies and I’m not going to make a pun about that.’

At which he fell upon her and had his wicked way, which is the way all good children’s stories should end, not with all this violence stuff.