Originally published in 2017

This week, I found myself in the middle of what could only be described as a Harvey Weinstein avalanche. You know, the kind where one sexual harassment allegation after another rolls down the mountain, burying any semblance of decency in its wake. It's like a twisted version of Groundhog Day, but with a revolving door of power-hungry men and their utterly bewildering appetites.

On Monday, I decided to dive headfirst into the dystopian wonderland of Blade Runner 2049. Our hero is none other than K, a meticulously engineered concoction designed to mimic every nuance of a human male, down to the art of dealing out death with a side of panache.

K's romantic subplot stars Joi, a digital diva mimicking the form of a lady. But don't let her ephemeral allure fool you—she's only programmed to exist within the confines of K's digs, making herself useful according to his whims. She flickers to life when he strolls in and promptly fades into oblivion the moment he exits. This ghostly avatar of womanhood, ageless and captivating, is the ideal partner-in-crime, capable of transforming her hair and eyes with the casual flip of a digital switch and squeezing herself into a portable gadget so she can tag along with K to the big, imperfect world outside. Nothing says love like a USB connection.

Midweek, I could not help but take note of a rather... primitive version of Joi manifesting in Germany circa 2017. Behold Bordol, a veritable palace of pleasure, offering patrons a rendezvous with silicone sirens. Yours for a mere €80 (£71) an hour, you can pick from a delightful selection of eleven silicon specimens, adjusting their physical attributes like you're customising a fantasy sports team. However, hold on to your morals as Bordol services also feature non-consensual scenarios, catering to the utterly twisted desires of those with the most heinous fantasies. These faux femmes are contractually obligated to stay within the physical confines of the establishment lest someone tries to elope with a cyber concubine.

hen came Saturday, bringing forth the cinematic spectacle "She's Funny That Way." Imagine an ageing playwright, portrayed by Owen Wilson, who appears to think he's the benevolent sugar daddy to a succession of working women. In a grand gesture, he bestows wads of cash upon them post-coitus. The women then proceed to practically compose hymns in his honour, praising him as their saviour and messiah, the one bestowing life-transforming gifts upon them. Frankly, the mind reels at how such a spectacle made it to the big screen. A little sleuthing pulled back the curtain on this wild scenario.

"She's Funny That Way" was the brainchild of Peter Bogdanovich, a veteran director whose heyday dates back to the 60s, notably with his work on The Last Picture Show. And lo and behold, a familiar pattern emerges—Bogdanovich’s tangled romantic escapades, starring none other than some of his leading ladies. Bogdanovich’s life-defining relationship was with Playboy model Dorothy Stratten, complete with plastic surgery upgrades he paid for so she could, you know, look better. In 2049, to please her controller, Joi could take on multiple iterations of her digital form in a second. Back in her day, Stratten had to spend long hours under the knife to please the eye of her man/director/controller/boss/would beowner.

Tragically, Stratten's tale reads like a dark Hollywood fable, ending in her murder at the hands of a jealous ex-boyfriend unable to relinquish control. Adding to the surreal narrative, the screenplay of "She's Funny That Way" was penned by none other than Bogdanovich's ex-wife, Louise Stratten—the very sister of the slain Dorothy. The adage "write what you know" holds true in this case.

Finally, as the week drew to a close, enter Bill O'Reilly, the much-lauded Emperor (primarily by himself) of Fox News’s ever-expanding ratings dominion. Fox had to grease some victimised palms for $45 million to settle a pesky sexual misconduct charge. In went the cheques. Out went O’Reilly. Notably, the complaint's paperwork explicitly included the term "non-consensual sex," a euphemism cleverly masking the gravity of the situation.

Not to be outdone, thanks to Roger Ailes' reprehensible conduct (Ailes was the founder and boss of Fox News), the corporation found itself coughing up a staggering $100 million in hush money for former female staff.

As the dust 'settled on this truly unsavoury week, a stark pattern emerged—Harvey Weinstein, Roger Ailes, Bill O'Reilly—men of influence and power who view O'Reilly as mere props in their sexual fantasies, faces interchangeable, identities inconsequential, wielders of corporate might with the ability to elevate or annihilate careers at will.

Indeed, 2017 could very well be etched in the annals of history as a seismic shift. The year, the tide turned, and corporations were forced to reckon with the toxic culture they had long nurtured. It is a watershed moment that causes us to contemplate the impact of these seismic shifts within Blade Runner's dystopian future, where silicon sex slaves await their fate in 2049. Only time will tell.