Lesbian-is-in

I'm not throwing them a bone to get on side, besides lesbians don't like bones. But, I have toyed with the idea of lezzing it and some of my mates get asked if they are too. But I tell you why, If you're a female into solidarity and telling the truth, an old stigma gets attached. Are you a lesbian? You must be if you are like, honest about masterbating and can DJ.

I admit, I'm slightly scared of them and the only female to ever approach me looked like a contender from Bullseye. But, I get worried about giving the wrong impression. I always think, shit, does she fancy me? and she is fit.

Last weekend I had a run in with about 400 of them, at a special night just for gays. I stood in the toilet Que and experienced something rather amazing. No weird looks, the ones that think you can't see them, starring, that make me question my clothes and face. Instead, everyone was openly being nice. I thought, It's fucking working. I wanted to be one.

I was chatted up, I think I was flirting? I even got asked if I was straight. At the end of the night the coat Que was quick, because even lesbians are on it, one ticket after the other. No words I can use to describe a bad night. (apart from the lack of straight men)

However, being too 'on it' can actually make it harder for women and men. It gives the impression that you're fucking irrational and not funny. A common misconception is that men have to be told what to do by women, but it's women being too 'on it' and men being lazy or shit scared to change it. I can guarantee that someone's said to you, women can multitask better than men. FUCK OFFFFFF. If females concentrated on being funny instead of 'on it' we could get out of this stupid notion. Granted women are distracted by more stupid stuff than men, with things like; change your face and be mean to get what you want, because your worth it. My buddy's and I, we look great because we're happy being us, we don't need to change face. Those distractions are the cause of being too 'on it' and it's not just women, look at Gordan Ramsey the Nightmare kitchen, he's well 'on it'.

Lesbian-is-in because it gives a nod to solidarity, the sort I experienced last weekend. But it shouldn't have to be a massive fanny fest? It was just nice to chat to women and not feel judged. Lesbians are also too closely knitted with feminist, and if you mention the F word around some people they think you're a Lez.

A few weeks ago my best mate had a party and it left a bad taste in my mouth. It all started when I asked a chump being well 'onit' on his laptop for a song. He kept asking what I was going to play. I put on Down in Mexico the Death proof version. It went down a treat. He refused to let me play another and had this smug grin all over his stupid face. He said 'my friend lives here and told me to DJ'. I replied 'That's nice, I just want a song or two. This is a house party, right? and coincidentally, my friend lives here too. Why so hostile?' His buddy's ears must have pricked up, he turned around and said 'boy's are better than girls' Then they both just stood there. Gobsmacked. I walked off. Thinking, am I twelve?

In keeping with the stereotypes, my friends buff brother went over. I felt like a snitch. Chump immediately apologised and changed his tune. I changed the record, but it felt weird and he kept his beady eye on me so I went upstairs where it was an open deck policy, everyone had a go and had fun. The twelve year old boy's came up and wanted to join in. I was well hostile, and they could not understand why? Try being more 'onit'?

Australia v's England

I travelled to Australia in 2009 and when I returned I had lost ten years and became 40% more paranoid. I know impressive. I didn't travel around Byron Bay where all the cool kids go. I stayed in small town, collected shells and got watched carefully by a mental boyfriend.

Everyone bangs on about Australia and how it's the quality of life 'Emigrate, it's the quality of life' they say. I agree with Stuart Lee. Its boredom and they're talking Dingo doo doo. It's a massive great journey to the end of the world and I swear you could fall off past Sydney. Whoever or whatever you go there for, has to be special to justify that grim 24hr squashed legs and achy hip journey.

I stayed in Perth, West side, in a hillbilly ghetto, on the edge of an industrial state. Bogans (Aussie term) or wankers I liked to call them, regularly drove past at hideous speeds and it was embarrassing. I lived there. I lived in a massive bungalow, not a proper house they are rare, with my new found mental, his son, a guinea pig, a cat and a dog. By the way, I'm talking about Australia, not America and the dog wasn't a Golden retriever.

I stepped into a world of kids, shells, responsible adults and a family bungalow circa 1950’s. So serious, you could throw up all over the porch and watch it dry in the blistering 35 degrees heat. In fact this sums up my trip to Perth exactly. But instead, I threw up over myself and dried out like a prune for 7 months. Lucky I was damp to begin with. He was well dry.

There was not a great deal to do in this Perth place, other than the obvious. There was a big warehouse in town called Creatures that everyone wanked on about, also the only place you could get a beer where people had both ears stuck on. There were two other places, one of which was my house. I thought I might die there. The other places he would not take me to, in case we bumped into someone he had fucked or was fucking. (I went to those places, they were shit) Plus, this is Perth not Japan. We mostly hung out with the son's friends and parents, basically, anyone house ridden.

In the end, I hung with the two coolest girls there and encouraged them to move in our huge bungalow, they did. There were some decent sorts, but like a good record, hard to find. The others I encountered had weird names like Demelza and were'nt into solidarity? That got on my pink tits, because my girls in London are the shizzle. Anyway, I became a regular in the bric-a-brac scene, which is thriving by the way and really quite good. I was coming home with worrying amounts of 50's furniture, but it gave me something to push around the house. I found a diversion from the boredom and grabbed it with two hands, literally.

My mental boyfriend had a friend who was a chump and a girlfriend way to cool for him. But, they had a baby with the same name as him and she was house bound, like I was. She writes a blog and I know she will come up trumps one day. You can get a girl pregnant and lock her in the house, but you can't keep her down, not if there's a computer near by.

I still can't get my head around their relationship, it baffled me? My boyfriend was good friends with her fiancé, so I presumed he must be a bit of a dick. He bullied her like we're twelve. He was none of the cool things she was.

There are many self righteous wankers in the world; two of them are in Australia. I'm positive there are more. But unfortunately, these both came from the UK. Doesn't everyone though? The British flag has been there since 1788, however, times have not moved much further than circa 1950's. Hence the house wives and why it must of allured me. I love the 50's. My boyfriend and his chump friend moved there, because, it's so conveniently behind the times that they get away with roaming like dingoes and being rude. People are not as bothered to deal with rude. Time dribbles by over there and when I returned to England It was 2020. The adverts on TV still star the shop owners and I'm certain I saw Sally Fletcher, still, in Home and Away. I came back and bought a paper to catch up on what I'd missed. I don't even read The Guardian? That's how bad the withdrawals were.

All Pugwall's Summer fans move to Australia with 'a dream they're going to make it'.

But, incidentally, they didn't.

Love Marmaloid

I LOVE ME

My boyfriend and I had only just started going out, it was all fresh and cute and we went to the shop. I was not too hungry. He bought some Cherry Bakewells. He opened them and walked down the street scoffing them and they looked exceedingly good. Infact. I was starving. But, I hung back, like a polite person stepping outside to do a fart. He will offer in a minute I said to myself and I'll do the oh..erm...go on then thanks. Anyway, he didn't. He was even going to eat them all. I had to say something quick, he was three cakes in and there is only six in a pack. I asked for one and he looked at me sort of annoyed and pushed me one. It tasted so good. When we got back home he continued eating them. I obviously wanted another. But he ate all the rest before I could ask it seemed. Gob smacked. But not with a cherry Bakewell.

When I was a kid my Mum tried her bestest to make me share. Did it work? No of course it didn't. I hated sharing. I would lick over a whole Zap or calypso lolly and then offer it to my brother. When Richard played leaky leaky one two three down the bottom of our street he would not let me play and I would run home shouting to mum. His best friend Kevin didn't mind, he didn't have a sister though. By the time I was 6 I was in love with Kevin. Richard and I spent most our childhood scrapping on the floor because of this not sharing business. He would pull my hair, I would call him a dic and mum carefully made sure beans on toast and um bongo cartons were evenly split down the middle.

Sharing, has a right fun time, sipping champagne under the same marquee as all the polite and friendly people who offer to buy drinks, have lots of fans and feel the love. Now I'm 28, I understand the pleasure it gives to people and I'll buy my brother presents and it makes me happy that I made him happy. A bit like the feeling old people get when giving you a bit of crap you didn't need. The thing is, my boyfriend is not selfish, as in, he does give me stuff, just as long as it don't cost anything and he does not have to share it. I suppose I sort of like the animal in him the one that pushes food around his plate, totally unaware that he's being selfish. Or is that just the Libra in me trying to see the other side? We all know that the people in the marquee over the grass have lots of fun and fans, so buck your bucks up, tight arse.

Richard Dawkins writes about us being born selfish, he says it's the animal instinct in us to not want to share and that the force of religion has made people soft. I comprehend that, but, my boyfriend seems to have taken this and gone bowling with it. God says share and love thy neighbour and it's immense. Especially when we are scared of letting him down. But I tell you, It's bullshit. When I visit my born again christian friends they ply me with so much hug and attention It kind of makes me feel sick and they bang on about god and loving people and shit. But I never, ever, visit them until after lunch, because I am never ever invited for lunch. Love thy neighbour my arse. 'Yeah, sure, but can you come after lunch time as we can't wait to say grace and tuck into a meal for two from M&S'. Selfish bastards.

As the famous Bugsy Malone quote goes 'Give a little love and it all comes back to you' and if you don't, you're a cunt who will end up with no friends, apart from god...