Come on girls, play the game

■

SCHOOLGIRLS and the lengths of their skirts. It’s been a matter of fierce debate ever since my generation rolled up the tops of our skirts to make them as mini as possible and lamented the injustice that there were girls who had legs like racing thoroughbreds while others had ones like sausages. Some schools now ban skirts in favour of gender-neutral trousers to get around the problem.

Meanwhile the girls at Rugby School were given the opportunity to scrap their ankle-length pleated skirts in favour of something more modern. But they weren’t having it. They love their Edwardian chic. “You don’t have to worry about what your legs look like or staff telling you your skirt is too short,” said one sixth-former. And on chilly days they can wear pyjamas underneath. Heaven.

Billie Eilish (above), the brilliant 18-year-old who has written the new Bond theme, always dresses in shapeless, baggy clothes so as not be “objectified”. Good for her and for all teenage girls who dare to look a bit different from the pouting Instagram crowd.

WHAT did you think of last night’s game? Were we robbed? What was that referee thinking of? If that’s what you talk about when you get in to work then watch out! Ann Francke, head of the Chartered Management Institute says bosses should clamp down on talk of last night’s game in case women colleagues feel left out.

She said, “It’s very easy for it to escalate from VAR talk and chat to slapping each other on the back and talking about their conquests at the weekend. It’s a gateway to more laddish behaviour and – if it goes unchecked – it’s a signal of a more laddish culture”.

Well, I don’t know what goes on in the Chartered Management community but the idea of some of the old boys I’ve worked with talking about scoring, tackling or bowling a maiden over in anything other than a sporting context is frankly hilarious.

Yet again women are assumed to be victims whose feelings will be hurt and who must be protected from horrid men. But what about those women who follow football or cricket? Come on, Ms Franke, aren’t you being a wee bit sexist here?

I’m not madly interested in sport but occasionally I get gripped by a football match and am more than happy to give anyone the benefit of my expert opinion the following day.

And although I’ve never grasped the rules, sorry laws, of rugby (even when cheering my son on at school games) I love Channel 5’s Rugby Highlights programme presented by the brilliantly-teamed Mark Durden-smith and David Flatman. I’d listen to them any time even if half of what they say is over my head.

Girly though I am, I’d rather talk about VAR (video assistant referee) than VPL (visible panty line). It may seem a nerdish obsession among fans but it’s another example of how human judgment and experience are increasingly regarded as less worthy and reliable than a piece of electronic kit. It’s quite important really.

So what’s wrong with listening to others talk about their passions? It makes me curious.

And what about equally tedious “womanly” chat? I don’t want to hear about potty training, teething or the school run. Been there, done that. I definitely don’t want to hear about your holidays or look at photos on your phone. I’ve never seen Game Of Thrones so don’t care what happens. I’d feign polite interest however, as life – especially office life – demands give and take.

Monitoring topics for conversation sounds like VAR creeping into the office. Can’t people be left alone?

‘Women are assumed to be victims’

■

WHO decided that it would be a good idea for appliances to bleep once they’ve finished their work? My washing machine and dryer both mew plaintively like cats wanting to be let out. But if I want to leave the washing sitting in the drum for a couple of hours while I do something else, that’s my business isn’t it? And if I make the mistake of turning them on and going to bed (yes, yes, which I know one shouldn’t do in case they catch fire) then they wake me up demanding attention. Nag, nag, nag.

We’re surrounded by things that ping and bleep and warble. There is no escape.