Rodney flying by seat of his pants

Press, 24 June 1983, Page 13

Rodney flying by seat of his pants

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ken Strongman

In a typical week, there are some programmes which one sees only spasmodically, in brief snatches whilst engaged in other necessities such as eating, drinking or sleeping. With becoming honesty, one must say that such programmes are difficult to review. So, with equally becoming attention to duty an entire week was spent glued to ‘‘The Mainland Touch.” Without this endeavour, its timing would normally put it into the spasmodic category.

At first sight it seems to be a pleasant and wellbalanced programme. Rodney Bryant holds his team of presenters together with unremittingly good-hum-oured ribbing. He looks as if he is flying the studio by the seat of his pants, with unfashionable flair. And his crew seem to enjoy the flight. The news and magazine coverage of local events appears to be unbiased and not to fall into the trap of being restricted to Christchurch. The items range widely, from smog (of course) to the Y.M.C.A., from farming and sport (of course) to rehabilitation. The programme is impartial and no favours are shown. Or are they? By the end of the programme one had an uneasy feeling that something was missing. Women had not been mentioned. With due sensitivity to possible sexism, a small survey was made. Throughout the week, “The Mainland Touch” contained approximately 38 items, of which four were about women and one was described as for women — more of this later. This is just over 10 per cent. Who watches “T.M.T.”? I have no idea, but would guess that at least 50 per cent of them are women. What is going on? Do women in Canterbury do nothing or are the “T.M.T.” people just a touch sexist? Rodney and Co. are all male.

A more detailed analysis was in order. One of the distaff items was about a very pleasant woman who was retiring from driving a school bus. This was the only genuine one. Another showed a woman in the distance, being given the millionth sheep from a freezing works. The other two were both about the new Miss Canterbury, who proved to be the only female studio guest during the week. Whatever way one looks at it, this is an item for men. There is nothing so pointlessly sexist as a beauty contest.

Rodney Bryant made a great play of asking Miss Canterbury whether or not there is a man in her life. At no time in the week were similar questions asked of young farmers, of bigbooted rugby players. But if such a question were to be asked on “T.M.T.” it would probably be of the form “. . . and who is the little woman in your life?”

The one item which was introduced as being for women was described as a replacement for the usual handy home hints slot, which is presumably only

for men. Men do the repairs and women the cooking; it is the natural order of things. Anyway, it was a demonstration of how, in these hard times, to cook something vaguely interesting from lambs breasts. It is not a bad idea, but why direct it at women? Anyone, even a man, could be involved in making ends meet.

So much for the items for and about women. The other items were interesting enough, but again solely of male interest. Things like the young farmer of the year award, with great prizes — a trip abroad and a new tractor, no less. What about a housewife (or even houseperson) of the year award? She or he could always compete for a new set of tea towels.

So, perhaps not wittingly, “T.M.T.” is the last bastion of thoroughgoing sexism. They probably don’t mean to be, it simply seems to be an integral part of the programme, the way in which it is put together and presented. It is quite subtle. In the week’s worth that came under this microscope, there were a number of mentions of the forthcoming Telethon. No doubt, there will be some women involved. None was mentioned.

It is all very well being the last bastion, but even these should crumble in the end. If the “T.M.T.” people do not know what they are doing, they should be made aware. If they do know, there is no excuse. Or perhaps it is a true reflection of women in Canterbury.