April 22nd 2006

The world, after threatening to for so long, has finally gone mad. According the today’s newspaper the Lord Chancellor and his staff will no longer be referring to homosexuals as homosexuals, as it may upset them. Instead they will refer to them as gay. For crying out loud, they should be doing exactly the opposite, refusing to call them gay and insisting on calling them homosexuals!

Until the homosexual fraternity appropriated the word gay its only dictionary definition was ‘happy and carefree’. I for one, and I know there are many more like me who hold a similar view, wish it had stayed that way.

Having dual definitions of the word can be misleading to say the least. For example I recently attended a revival of the musical ‘The Desert Song’, a show in which the song ‘The French Military Marching Song’ is part of the libretto. For those not familiar with the musical it’s the song in which one of the leading characters implores everyone else on stage to ‘Come boys, let’s all be gay boys’, an invitation which obviously means ‘Come boys, let’s all be happy and carefree’ and not ‘Come boys, let’s all be homosexuals’. However anyone in the audience under the age of thirty must have wondered, on completion of the song, why the rest of the cast didn’t pair up and disappear behind the sand dunes holding each other’s hands.

Let me say without going any further that I have nothing against homosexuals. It is not my way, and never could be. Christ I once had a doctor poke his index finger up my bottom in search of my prostate gland and that was bad enough. But just because I don’t want to do what they do doesn’t mean to say that I don’t respect their right to do it, as they no doubt respect my right to engage in ‘normal’ sex. For who is to say that I am right and they are wrong? Not me, certainly. Although, if indeed there is a right and a wrong, and as one of the main features of ‘normal’ sex is procreation, I would maintain that until such time as someone is made pregnant by having a penis pump sperms up his rectum that the ‘normal’ method of having it is most certainly not the wrong one.

Having said that I am perfectly happy for homosexuals to go about their lives as they see fit. As I have already said, I have nothing against them. And hopefully I never will have anything against them. Especially my genitals. And excepting of course the fact that they have hijacked the word ‘gay’ for their exclusive use.

I have often asked myself why they found this necessary, for they already had words in abundance to describe themselves. Homo, bent, queer, to name but three. Brown hatter, pillow biter, shitstabber, to name three more. Shirtlifter, turd turner, uphill gardener, one who bats for the other side, one who swings the other way, nancy boy, poofter, pansy, willie woofter, the titles are legion.

Apparently though none of them were good enough and they had to pinch one of my words. But why did it have to be ‘gay’? If nothing else it is a contradiction in terms to use a word that means ‘happy and carefree’ since, for anyone other than a homosexual, one would be anything but ‘happy and carefree’ if one’s anal passage was being invaded by something which must feel to him like the business end of a baseball bat. Good, I’m glad I’ve got that off my chest.

Have a gay day.