I was raped 35 years ago and didn’t report it, and I wouldn’t today – our police force is worse than ever
IN the wake of the Baroness Casey review into the Met Police, Susanna Reid admitted on Good Morning Britain this week that she not only felt “frightened for women” but that she wouldn’t report it if she was raped.
I know for a fact she isn’t the only one.
As a woman, I feel very vulnerable. Right now, I would feel deeply uneasy about any kind of interaction with the police.
And, as if to compound things, on March 15 a seemingly innocent A4 printout was put up in the window of Maidstone’s police station, in Kent, urging people who have been victims of “non-emergency crimes” to contact the force via an online form.
On that list, which also included “road traffic incidents” was “rape and sexual assault”. That was just over a week ago.
As if not reading the room wasn’t damaging enough, this is further proof that the ongoing, persistent culture within all police forces is one of sexism, misogyny, apathy for and, essentially, an indifference about, women and their safety.
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With age, I’ve learnt not to jump to conclusions, but I’m assuming it was a man who put this poster up in the station.
When it was removed, Det Chief Superintendent Emma Banks was quick to state that Kent Police takes investigations of sexual assaults “extremely seriously”.
Unfortunately, we’re all done with intent. We’re done with reviews and inquiries.
We don’t need any more words. We need action.
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We have all borne witness to how crime has changed over the decades and how policing methods and resources may have struggled to keep up.
Some might say that rape hasn’t changed, but our interpretation of it certainly has.
While “no” still means no, we now understand that situations, circumstances and how we frame rape has definitely changed.
Rape can happen in the home — lest we forget, there was a time when a husband was quite within his rights to rape his wife.
Rape can be committed by someone you know and trust.
At the age of 20, when I was raped in a hotel room, there was no recognition of “date rape” — there was no such crime.
And it was the main reason why I never went to the police, because society had taught me that I — as a woman — was culpable for finding myself alone in a room with a man.
I lived with that guilt and felt it for decades.
At the time, my perception of rape was that of a violent sexual assault committed by a man on a woman walking home alone, late at night. By a stranger.
Never anyone you might know.
To that end, I never thought my assault would be believed.
Despite ending up in hospital, I never said a word. That was 35 years ago and where are we now?
In England and Wales, one in four women have been raped, according to charity Rape Crisis.
Only one in 100 rapes recorded by police in 2021 resulted in a charge that same year.
So, despite our increasing awareness and knowledge surrounding the different kinds of sexual assaults that darken more than just the corners of our society, we seem to be incapable of doing anything about it. Nothing ever seems to change.
Five in six women who are raped do not report it. The same is true for four in five men.
Humiliation and embarrassment may be a contributing factor but most damning is that 38 per cent of women do not believe the police can help.
I’ve quoted barrister Dame Vera Baird many times and it is becoming rather tedious to do so again, but despite the number of recorded rape offences being at an all-time high in 2021, the number of rape prosecutions has halved.
It isn’t just the CPS’s high threshold for prosecution and the feeling so many women have of being made to feel more vulnerable by a system that is hell-bent on destroying their character and sexual past, but most poignantly, it’s their first point of contact — the police.
We know there are good eggs out there. There are policemen who display exemplary, professional behaviour but it’s about what goes on in their heads that concerns women most.
Sir Mark Rowley, head of the Met Police, might be allergic to the words “culture” and “institutional” but it’s inescapable.
I’ve thought many, many times over the years about what I would do if — God forbid — I was raped again.
I’ve written in this column that I would like to think I would report it, regardless of the circumstances.
But as I write for you today, I can’t say that I would.
That’s a damning indictment of a society that has allowed rape to effectively become de-criminalised and has chosen to put it in the same category as fraud or a road traffic incident.
And to think this is 2023.
Swerve the Hurley-burly
I READ from time to time about Ant McPartlin’s custody dispute with his ex-wife Lisa Armstrong over Hurley, their chocolate Labrador.
While most married couples may struggle to find an equitable arrangement for their children, this might seem like a petty dispute.
But actually, for a dog-lover like myself, I wonder if this isn’t actually more complicated.
In reality, there is no such thing as “custody” when it comes to children.
It’s more commonly known as “residency” nowadays – perhaps because it sounds less antagonistic.
And as a general rule, children tend to live with the person who is best suited to look after them – this is often a logistical decision based on what creates the least amount of disruption.
In the case of older kids, you can, of course, ask their preference and take that into consideration.
But adorable Hurley can’t speak. He can’t explain whether he prefers the treats at Lisa’s gaff or the bustling household of Ant and his wife with her kids and other dogs.
Hurley just gets transported by Ant’s chauffeur for the weekly handover.
I think I’d be torn to pieces if I had to let my doggies go and only have them part-time.
Thankfully, there was no such dispute with my ex because he has to go into an office every day.
I don’t know what it says about me that I’m OK with the kids sharing their time between us but not my dogs.
Nevertheless, it really saddens me that Ant and Lisa are going through this.
Hurley doubtless embodies a lot of the joy that existed in their marriage.
But this four-legged companion also looks to me like he’s a senior dog.
It would be nice if they could just keep the status quo so they can both share in the joy of Hurley.
Alternatively, allow this old boy to just settle somewhere permanently knowing he is much loved by everyone.
No more sinking feeling
IN this new era of wholesomeness in which we’re all forced to live, in this world of clean-eating, fasting, gymming, veganism and environmentally friendliness, I have to say I did glean a bit of joy from seeing the picture of BBC Breakfast presenters Naga Munchetty and Charlie Stayt standing outside a pub both enjoying a fag – and even sinking a pint.
We are continually fed such a diet of attention-seeking, hearty celebs with their fabulous bodies or healthy lifestyles that this picture felt quite nostalgic.
It was like a cheeky little slap in the face to all those desperados out there fighting for a place on the tightrope of purity, righteousness, virtue and morality.
It was a rebellious two fingers up at those smugly superior buggers who lead a more sanitary life.
I’m no proponent of smoking and drinking but you can’t deny it is quite refreshing to see a couple of otherwise preened presenters fagging it and giving it large.
And at least there’s no controversy about impartiality surrounding this little pub visit.
It’s very clear they are both partial to a bit of nicotine and then some.
It's half baked
STOP the world. I want to get off. Researchers and engineers at Columbia University have 3D-printed a cheesecake.
I’ve deliberately ignored all the technology surrounding 3D printing – mostly used for making machine parts and models – because my tiny, blonde brain simply cannot understand it.
But the very idea that you can now potentially turn cartridges of food paste and powder into an actual dish horrifies me.
As someone who spends most of her time cooking and reading and creating recipes, and who loves actual real-life food, it fills me with dread.
I don’t care if this becomes a thing.
There ain’t no way I’m ever going to want a pud from a printer.
But by all means, the rest of you, have your cake and print it.
Live and let's try with ace Daisy May
RUMOURS abound that my mate, the glorious and multi-talented Daisy May Cooper, might be cast as spy chief M in the next Bond.
I seriously hope this comes true. Daisy is a fine creative – a character, comedy and serious actress. A brilliant writer.
She’s extremely talented and her deadpan humour is just what Bond would need.
She would definitely bring her unique, funny style to the role.
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But as with everything Daisy does, she never fails to surprise, so who knows what she might turn it into?
She’s definitely the best thing to come out of Gloucestershire.