It's almost that time of year once again where kindred spirits flock together in the spirit of the season to celebrate the birth of consumerism. Time to force a stilted smile and and let loose a gruff, begrudging - "
ta very much" as one is presented with an Old Spice aftershave and talcum powder gift set (in wood effect plastic box) by a relative one would, at any other time of the year, afford the shortest of shrifts.
That's the magic of Christmas. It provides a wonderful degree of stability and assuredness, much needed in this time of stock market bear culling, high street bankruptcies and men on television commenting on an endless series of gloomy looking graphs depicting man's descent into a hideous spiral of debt, unemployment and gutter based housing opportunities.
Anyway, what better message for the religious community to send out, at this time of peace and goodwill to all men, than the need for humanity to be saved from the impending peril of a
plague of the gays. The Scary Pope thinks that we are all in danger of becoming a gay. I don't know about you but i imagine it would take a little more than the world's most persuasive man, using a beautifully created and powerful argument indeed, to persuade me to answer "
Oh yes please. I thought you'd never ask" to the question "
would you mind awfully if i put my penis up your bottom"? Not that there's anything wrong with that, but aside from the danger of aggravating one's Chalfont St. Giles, some say piles, i'm just not into it thanks. I much prefer being roundly rejected by ladies.
So, Scary Pope Benedicts, i know you spend all your time hanging about with gentlemen in dresses struggling to suppress a carnal desire to be rather rude behind the rood screen with another be-frocked fellow but the real world doesn't quite work like that.
'Lonely Old Man' - The Plimptons