Seriously, girls, cover up and do everyone a favour
Fed up of pasty flesh, Eilis O'Hanlon takes her hat off to the sartorial morality police
There was an alarming sight at the Galway Races last week -- and it wasn't Bertie Ahern bouncing about again with that smug look on his chubby little face which seems to say: "Hey, don't blame me for the recession. When I was Taoiseach, every day was this much fun!" (Though on second thoughts, that is pretty revolting. Leaders who messed up this badly used to be left alone in the drawing room with a loaded revolver until they did the decent thing, not given huge book deals and touted for the presidency.)
No, it's the female race-goers who are really disturbing. The hats are bad enough. "Look at me, I'm wearing a hat that looks like a Teletubby bungee-jumping off the Cliffs of Moher, aren't I wacky?" Au contraire, dear, you're just an attention-seeking bimbo who's mistaken an item of headgear for a personality. The clothes simply make an embarrassing situation worse.
As soon as the merest hint of sunshine peeks out from behind the clouds, out come the mini-skirts and skimpy tops -- and people who've popped along in good faith to Galway to hopefully win a few quid have to endure the spectacle of a veritable forest of walking tree trunks tottering about on high heels in search of the next glass of bubbly, turning one of the country's most cherished traditional social events into a glorified meat market. Some of the women who were photographed during the week at the races were like the illustrations on a government health warning about the dangers of getting dressed in the morning without checking first what you're putting on.