Tuesday, April 7, 2009
Sometimes you just can’t do anything right. You know those kinds of days, readers? Not only did I mistake an entirely ordinary person – Sam Tring – for pop superstar Will Young, I then assumed Sam to be the boyfriend of Cathy, my most recent follower. Assumptions, assumptions. It turns out that Sam is just a good friend of Cathy’s.
I think, judging from his comments, that even if Cathy were the last woman on earth, she still wouldn’t do for Sam. He commented, you see, that he “loves cock”. And I know enough about the world to know that probably means he’s gay. Or at least bi-curious.
When I was younger, a teenager, I tried to think gay thoughts to see if I might be gay. It didn’t work. Try as I might, I couldn’t get excited about the prospect. I will admit to a brief period of time during which I found Billie Jean King attractive, but that’s as close as I got. Still, I did experiment with my thoughts, which proves that I’m not prejudiced. And it also proves I’m not in the closet, like Sir Cliff Richard was for all those years.
Apparently something like six per cent of all adults are gay. You probably work or have worked with someone who’s gay. Perhaps you didn’t realise it; after all it’s not always easy to tell. Here’s a tip from the BBC, though, which helps you spot when blokes being written about in their stories are gay:
The BBC always makes reference to whether or not the men are married or have kids. So, if someone is a ‘confirmed bachelor’ that means the BBC is tipping you the wink that they’re gay. Likewise if the BBC says, “Such and such is not married, and has no children”. It’s the same deal.
Here's a classic example.Here's another one involving a member of the Royal Family, and here's one more involving a former Prime Minister
And if you don’t believe all of this, then just look at this set of Cliff Richard lyrics, in which he writes of how his father forbade him a life of heterosexuality.
When I was young my father said
Son I have something to say
And what he told me Ill never forget
Until my dyin' day.
He said son you are a bachelor boy
And thats the way to stay.
Son, you be a bachelor boy until your dyin' day.
Jesus Christ, Freud would have a field day with that, wouldn’t he? Perhaps you are moved to feel sympathy for Cliff, over the fact that his father dictated such a personal element of his life, and that he lived for so many years with that waxy, fixed smile on his face while inside he was screaming out the truth.
But you shouldn’t feel sorry for Cliff Richard, because he’s a complete fucking wanker.