Tis the end of the line for the go-go gorillas of old Norwich town. They’ve been rounded up and corralled behind bars on Millennium Plain to be gawped at by the townsfolk and their over-excited sprogs before being auctioned off to the highest bidder, all for charity. Bye bye, Guy.

I know I said I wouldn’t mention the gorillas again. I lied. So shoot me.

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Jack Scott's avatar
Imagine the absurdity of two openly gay, married, middle aged, middle class men escaping the liberal sanctuary of anonymous London to relocate to a Muslim country. I chronicled our exploits with the mad, the bad, the sad and the glad in a blog for the whole world to ignore. Then came the book which became a critically acclaimed best seller. Its success opened out a whole new career for me, firstly as an author, and now as an indie publisher. Who'd have thought it? Certainly not me. In June 2012, we ended our Anatolian affair and paddled back to Britain on the evening tide, washing up in Norwich, a surprising city in eastern England, then to the wilds of Norfolk as the only gays in the village. I’m sometimes nostalgic for our encounters with the hopeless, the hapless and, yes, the happy go lucky. They gave me an unexpected tale to tell and for this I thank them.

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