Girl power? Don't make me laugh

What were the criteria for choosing female guests at the Manchester United players' Christmas knees-up? Wit? Intelligence? Success? Power? Inspiration? Wealth? We know the answer is none of the above. Yet a penchant for treating women as sex aids is not the domain of the more Neanderthal footballer. Look anywhere in our 'modern' media and you'll find scantily clad girlies there for your delectation. Whether it's gossip magazines with snaps of bikini-clad Paris or Nicole or the plethora of 'ironic' men's mags objectifying women, the shelves of newsagents overflow.

Almost eight decades after emancipation, depictions of women completely incompatible with our supposed status as equal and respected members of society are on the rise. Apparently being allowed to blow up your breasts and buy porn star-style underwear on the high street is a step forward. Then again, with the Spice Girls once again discussed as the epitome of modern feminism, such objections are bound to be scoffed at.

If proof were needed of how low the opinion of the suffragettes and their successors has sunk, you only needed to listen to a lengthy report on Today about the Spices' legacy. 'Feminism, yeah, what's that all about, some woman in front of a horse?' one woman blathered, while Posh, Ginger, Baby, Scary and Sporty were applauded for their enormous contribution to the feminist cause.

Girl Power, it was suggested, was not a clever marketing slogan but a mission statement from a band committed to changing the world. It was a slice of promotion for which only the PR should be congratulated, but it spoke volumes about our failure to address the serious issue of sexism that continues to mar our culture.

Taking against such attitudes marks you out as a relic from a bygone age. Hands up, that's me.

Feminism may be a dirty word for those who see wearing skimpy clothes, drinking heavily and maintaining a McJob as a triumph for modern woman, but why should the rest of us fail to celebrate the right to vote and work?

I wonder if the girls trafficked as sex slaves get the postmodern joke that deems a woman baring her breasts on a magazine cover as an example of empowerment. If prostitution were legalised, at least a name could be placed on the contribution some of those invited to the Man Utd party seem to have made.

This Christmas, I'll tell you what I want, what I really, really want: an end to the 20 per cent pay gap 37 years after the Equal Pay Act was introduced; accessible, tax-deductible child care for every woman in this country so 'career opportunity' isn't an oxymoron the moment we give birth; pornography returned to the top shelf; and prostitution legalised. The trouble is that neither Santa Claus nor the Spice Girls is likely to make those dreams come true.

Save us from Santa

It's hard to keep up the myth of St Nick these days. His omnipresence in shopping centres, children's parties and even on public transport is increasingly hard to explain away. My three-year-old's trip to see him at Harrods did little to diminish her scepticism: eight grottoes, each with a Father Christmas hosting a stream of youngsters with strict time slots. No longer allowed to sit on his knee, it's made clear this is a photo opportunity. In the resulting print, they appear as tiny dots with a glowering Santa. The largest thing in the photograph was the Harrods logo. When my friend asked for a second picture as the first less than flattered her son, she was gruffly refused. Time is money these days, even in wonderland.