Return of the Walking Bones.

I've ranted before about the use of collar-bones as coathangers. Not by maniacs like Ed Gein, but by those stick insects that walk the modelling catwalks. Some time ago, Madrid set a minimum body mass for models, below which the girls would be deemed unhealthy. I applauded that. I thought there might be some sense left in the world. Only, it seems, in Spain.

Now the purveyors of animated skeletons are to strike back. Another reality-TV show, where perfectly healthy young women are to be bullied into anorexia by someone who, I can only assume, is a direct descendant of Cruella deVille.

Reality TV is mindless pap for mindless viewers. Fashion shows are pointless displays where clothes that would be too tight for the average skeleton are modelled by caricatures of real women. Both are sickening, but put them together... how many fingers can I shove down my throat at once? I wonder if the theme tune for this show will run 'Dem bones, dem bones, gonna walk around'?

I like to know women have ribs and shoulder-blades. I don't want to see the ligaments that hold them together. I don't want to see expensive dresses modelled by the cast of Dawn of the Dead.

The crazed sadists who run the fashion agency concerned refer to themselves as 'purveyors of flesh'.

They are not. They are purveyors of bones so lacking in flesh the average street-mongrel would turn up his nose.

I hope I'm never involved in a plane crash in some remote wilderness with a planeload of these women. I could barely make a stew out of ten of them. I'd get more sustenance if I took a photo and ate that.