You'll be a man, my son... (FHM)

Member Name: ronniec

Product:	FHM
Date:	03/03/01 (1225 review reads)
Rating:

Advantages: Attractive ladies, some interesting articles, the odd funny joke here and there, sex phone line numbers on one handy page.

Disadvantages: Appalling anecdotes, very lame jokes, page after page of advertisements, encourages a very bad view of women.

The men's magazine phenomenon is a curious thing. Designed solely to appeal to the twenty-something man about the town who can take his beer, the entire craze centres around one idea: that men should be happy with the simple ways they are.

The 90s man is subtly different to the FHM man. For the 90s man, see Paul Bown - the sickeningly wimpy actor who you may remember from mediocre 90s sitcom, Watching*. A man who doesn't mind ferrying his mother-in-law into town to do her shopping. A man who works ten-hour shifts so his wife can fritter money away on satisfying her grotesquely large appetite for clothes. A man who, when told by his wife that he should wear slacks at weekends, does just that.

For the FHM man, think Bono. A man of style, composure, wit and undeniable good looks. The women fall at his feet and he has more talent in his little finger than Linford Christie has in his whole lunchbox. When challenged by a stinging remark, he returns a witty reposte Wilde would have been proud of. And when his mum's gone out, he's got something wicked to entertain himself with, man.

Of course, I am indeed more than a little disparaging towards the FHM man. My main problem lies with the culture that the magazine is not catering for, but fostering. It encourages the "laddish" attitude that seems to be increasingly popular among women (although they have less and less choice as the cult grows), yet is crushing for all other men (Paul Bown in particular, I imagine). Through however many hundred pages of tripe it delivers, every single turn delivers the message that these attitudes are fine, because they are the way real men are. And that is what I object to the most.

The nitty-gritty of FHM differs very little from the preconception you would have of a "men's magazine". Any one issue could be broken down into a few main categories - pictures of famous women (including the occasional, splendidly patrioti
c Brit Babes twenty-four page spread); amusing anecdotes; sex advice; interesting articles of a scientifik nature; and adverts. And that's it, really. It's clearly a tried and tested formula, as it's a model followed by the competition and you don't hear many complaints banded around.

Sex is obviously the magazine's selling point, effectively being a soft-porn magazine that lusty fifteen-year old lads with dodgy moustaches can buy without having to pull out the old raincoat and hat. Typically containing upwards of thirty pages of pure photographs, an issue is a solid purchase if that's what you're looking for. The quality of both the models and print is always very high too, FHM using their international sisters to include the cream of Hollywood and Down Under (a small village outside of Littlehampton, Kent). While the accompanying text - usually an interview of sorts - is never breathtaking stuff, this is not really what people buy the magazine for so can be pretty much disregarded.

The anecdotes could be described as such only at the furthest stretches of even the most twisted imagination. Some are genuinely hilarious, I concede, but for the most they are dire efforts sent in my FHM Men who've probably made them up while sat in their bedsits anyway. As an example, how about this hilarious true, genuine story: a guy walked into a bar, got drunk, missed touching a girl's shoulder and hit her breast, and had to sit next to her the next day. Who would have believed it, eh? Oh, I wish I could have been there to see the look on his face as his laddish japes went comically wrong. The jokes struggle to capture the imagination too, mostly being tired sexual references, such as: What is the difference between kinky and perverse? One uses the feather, the other uses the whole chicken!

Apologies if you found that tremendously funny - you'll find FHM at your nearest W.H. Smiths' and most good newsagents. r>
If there is, then, any part of the magazine which is actually amusing, it must be the sex advice pages. It is not the actual content which entertains, but the lingering thought that only one in a hundred of the people reading the magazine at the same time as you will will ever actually get to try out the Spoon Position or experiment with the delights of the Rattlesnake. Page after page of "advice" supposedly gives FHM Man increased sexual prowess and magnetism, but observation on my own part reveals this claim to be in fact the opposite of the resulting effect; most women generally find such bizaare sexual advances disturbing on the first date.

I must admit that one part of the magazine does actually interest me, on occasion. The articles are sometimes quite interesting although I imagine the more intellectual writers reading this will chastise me and warn my mind is being polluted by populist filth. But even if some of this is true, you have to say articles about big guns, gay men with AIDS who sleep with women, and tropical diseases (just in one issue), are at the least interesting as a curiosity. They're the kind of stories that give FHM Men something to talk about whilst quaffing pints of lager in their local Wetherspoons establishment. They're also of genuine use on occasions - should you ever need to know the accurate range ot the MK28, you're bang in luck.

Advertisents take up a huge portion of the magazine, which is disappointing. Most are glossy double page spreads for one "quality" fashion company or another, the type that sell you a wooly jumper for £300 because it has their name on it. Leather loafers that serve no distinguishable purpose, but look cool half-hidden under your cream sofa when you invite a gorgeous lady back for coffee. That kind of thing, yeah? It's a curious ploy, as although I don't have their demographic data, I would imagine most of FHM's readers have nowhere near th
e money to buy from these companies - instead sticking to the pages of phone sex line ads at the back.

FHM is best suited for the adolescent male, put simply. While it does shine on occasion, with the odd amusing story or interesting article, what is stands for is frankly repellent. It actively encourages a negative view of women, supporting the kind of false relationships that end in divorce, those based around a man "winning over" a woman with "love and affection" irrespective of true love. Women are portrayed as a compulsory part of any true man's life, when if what the busybodies say about teen pregnancy and marriage is ever to be realised, the exact opposite should be true.

The boring moral points aside, FHM is bloody fantastic. There's some cracking pictures and funny jokes and stuff, and it's only three quid.

*Dedicated to the greatness of KathrynPenguin.