Justice has prevailed: a judge has ruled that Boy George should not be allowed to bend the rules of his probation and appear on Celebrity Big Brother. Richard Clayton QC, representing the probation service, argued that to permit such a TV appearance would undermine public confidence in the service. Alison Macdonald, representing the singer (whose real name is George O'Dowd), argued that he should be given permission because the terms of his probation licence were, in part, to rehabilitate the star.

Mention of the most important person in this case was scant: the victim. It hasn't seemed to have occurred to Boy George – perhaps blinded by the reported £200,000 fee from Channel 4 – what effect his appearance on the show might have had on Audun Carlsen. But then, everyone except the judge in the original trial has, from the outset, routinely dismissed the male escort and the damage inflicted upon him. Why?

Imagine for a moment if, say, Robbie Williams had dragged a female escort across the floor of his house before handcuffing her to a wall and beating her with a chain. His career would be over, permanently. His reputation would be plunged to a level only a couple of rungs higher than that of Gary Glitter. He would be shunned.

Compare this with what's happened to Boy George. Many gay people reacted to his incarceration with shock and disgust, throwing parties and club nights in his honour, as if he were a martyr, an Oscar Wilde figure. The justice system reacted by allowing him to serve just four months of his 15-month sentence. The publicly funded BBC reacted by inviting the star, after his release, to appear on Friday Night With Jonathan Ross, (where O'Dowd laughed and joked about his time in prison). And Ross, as ever asking the questions the public would like to pose, probed him about everything other than his despicable crime. Boy George had been forgiven. And not just because he has a good line in hats, quips and pathos-drenched lyrics. Not just because he is an apparently cuddly "out" gay man who once said he preferred a cup of tea to sex. But for the simple reason that his victim was male.

We still cannot seem to take crimes of sex and violence against men seriously. The response of the authorities to female victims of rape and domestic violence is often lacking. The response of the public to male victims is one of disbelief, apathy and even humour.

This is why even fewer male rape victims report the crime to the police, or even tell anyone. This is why, in part, there are fewer provisions for male victims of domestic violence. (One in six men suffer domestic violence at some point in their lives, compared with one in four women – the figures are not dissimilar.)

But something else is going on here too: male escorts and prostitutes are irrationally viewed differently to female ones. They're not victims, our collective consciousness cries. They're gigolos! They choose it! They're oversexed!

The reality is horribly different from this "happy whore" fantasy. Having interviewed many male prostitutes and porn stars over the years, I have invariably unearthed back-stories of abuse, poverty, and desperation.

Yet when I interviewed O'Dowd in 2005 he spoke unapologetically about hiring men to pose naked for his camera. At the end I asked what his plans were for the future. He replied: "More sex; more disturbing encounters with straight guys."

I'm relieved, then, that the 48-year-old will not be disgracing the UK's most talked-about house with his presence. Had he been allowed, had the juggernaut of celebrity clout reached its greedy target, had the crimes against Carlsen been completely brushed aside, every male victim of a sex crime should have stood outside the studio in Elstree singing, through turned-up megaphones, Do You Really Want to Hurt Me?