In a Word . . . ugly

You may have read the article in these pages a couple of weeks ago by columnist Lucy Kellaway on how good-looking people do better these days. This now also infects media where, she said, "even in radio, long supposed to be the natural home of the ugly, there is not a plain person in sight".

Looks were ceding to competence and the world was becoming “faceist”, she claimed. It had gotten to such a stage that she felt she could now conclude that “the number of ugly workers a company employs says a lot about the sort of place it is”. So much so that she believed ugly staff were a very positive comment on a workplace.

Such as her own Financial Times, for instance. She observed, somewhat smugly, that "there is little sign of faceism at play" in her newspaper. As evidence she suggested readers look at the picture bylines accompanying journalists' stories there.

She went further. “I can think of plenty of other newspapers where the byline pictures are on average prettier, but then the standard of comment is rather lower. The two facts are surely not unrelated.” Well!!

I can assure Ms Kellaway that when it comes to The Irish Times, we can boast by far the ugliest newsroom in Ireland, if not further afield. In such competition stakes, we are without pareil and proud to be so. For proof just look at our picture bylines. There is no debate.

Of course there are exceptions, such as all our colleagues of the fairer sex who, at this newspaper, combine that unusual alliance of intelligence and beauty which is grace itself and the exception to the rule. (And yes, I am a coward.)

More generally, I’ve never understood what biological/evolutionary function ugly may have. Ugly has to be up there as one of the great philosophical questions.

We should be consoled there is now cosmetic surgery for those who would avail of such and can afford it. It is no longer as was the case when Winston Churchill was chastised by Labour MP Mrs Bessie Braddock. "Sir, you are drunk," she said with disgust. "Yes, Mrs Braddock, and you are ugly, but I'll be sober in the morning," he replied.

Ugly came into 13th-century Middle English as ugly/uglike from Old Norse uggligr, meaning "to be dreaded". inaword@irishtimes.com