Caitriona Palmer: Petraeus 'screwed up', but who's sorry now?
ONCE upon a time there lived an ambitious, bright woman. She wore tight trousers and form-fitting, sleeveless shirts that showed off her toned and chiselled arms. In her calculated rise to the top of her chosen profession, the woman met a celebrated war hero; America's most vaunted general, a man of great principles, who before meeting this alluring temptress had allegedly never looked askance at any woman.
Flashing her biceps and wielding her biographer's pen, the woman wove a spidery web of sexual witchery, luring the hapless commander into her orbit. The general, happily married and clueless to the ways of wily, seductive women, didn't have a chance.
This appalling narrative that continues to build this week around the spectacular fall from grace of America's most revered general, David H Petraeus, has reinforced the tired old double standards that occur when great men get caught in public with their trousers around their ankles.