Monday, July 04, 2005

Gay Shame

First time I'd been to this - a celebration of how spledidly horrid it is being gay - a collection of grubby camp and disco misfits, it was a place to have fun, but not to pull.

Around me were mock funerals with undertakers wearing strap-ons, thimbles of sherry, modern art "happenings" and, the biggest Gay Shame of all, a diet coke with a twist of vodka was £4.50.

So, I drank beer for the first time in years. I'd forgotten what beer does to you, and how beer drunk isn't the same as vodka drunk. I bumped into someone who also hadn't drunk beer for a while. We stood, reeling, and glaring vaguely. "I'm about half an hour from wanting a fight," he said. Someone trod on my foot and I agreed with him.

At some point in the evening I had a rare moment of tact. I ducked into the loos to avoid a journalist who once offered me a blow job in return for a good review. Darian was puzzled, and I explained. I very nearly included the man's name, but for some reason didn't. Turned out to be a good thing, as his boyfriend was standing next to me at the urinal.

I walked home from the Elephant and Castle. It helped.

1 comment:

Recidivist said...

His boyfriend was stood next to you at the urinal?

God, I’d have been so tempted in that every so slightly louder than is strictly necessary manner that is my habit when the evil gets the better of me ;)