Category: Britain

London in a Minute

We love our laidback Bodrum life even when huddled under a duvet watching BBC Entertainment on a loop. There’s just enough to do in Bodrum to keep us entertained during the short days of winter – cafés, restaurants, cinema, people. The summer hassle has been replaced by a more civilised, gentile pace and we will savour it before the heat and the hustle returns. However, this winter has been different; we’ve been spending our days beavering away to plug the book to death. You’re probably fed hearing about it. I know I am. They’ll be no more talk of it until 2012, unless something dramatic happens like a nomination for the Booker Prize or a call from a TV executive asking to buy the rights. Of course, this is as likely as me losing my virginity, but if the impossible happens, Liam wants to be played by Jude Law. He’s suggested that Danny DeVito might step into my pink slippers.

We’re really looking forward to our flying visit to Blighty for our big city Christmas fix. Bugger the doom and gloom and the whinging soothsayers who seem to wallow in the misery of others. We’re going to have fun in our home town.

Cue the cute London in a Minute video courtesy of Travel Yourself

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Perking the Pansies – Jack and Liam move to Turkey

Miracle Child

At the virginal age of 18, Liam moved from the Smoke to South Wales to study for his music degree at Cardiff University. He stayed in Wales for 15 years. Having paid £5 to get in across the Severn Bridge, he wanted his money’s worth. The Principality has a rich history of musical excellence and this rubbed off on the young Liam. During his long exile in the Valleys, he lost his virtue and used his mouth and hands to creative effect on oboe and ivory. He sought satisfaction for his creative juices and found it with the Mountain Ash and District Choral Society who commissioned him to compose Christmas carols. Eventually, he hitched up his skirt and waded across Offa’s Dyke to return like the Prodigal Son to the bosom of his family. Liam’s never quite forgotten those halcyon days of quavers and choirs. Even today, his long-past association with these talented people brings a tear to his eye and joy to his heart. Imagine his pleasure and surprise when, two decades on, he discovered that they are once again performing one of his 20th Century pieces at a 2011 Christmas service. It’s made his year.

As it’s that Christmas time of year again, I give you Miracle Child for your festive entertainment. It’s a bit ropey as it was recorded on an old cassette recorder at the back of the hall. Hey, it beats the hell out of Slade on a continuous loop.

Miracle Child

The book

Blighted Blighty

Blighted Blighty

 

I received a witty email from Blighty life friend, Ian. No, that’s not him in the photo. As youngish singletons, he and I cruised across Europe and beyond, seeking high jinks and low frolics. Amsterdam, Paris, Gran Canaria, Sitges, Istanbul, Croydon – nowhere was safe. These days we’re both hitched and respectable pillars of the community.

Ian wrote:

Hope all’s well in your world and you are gearing up for an uneventful Brit visit. It’s relentless doom and gloom here, of course, with a daily update of Angela Merkel’s hair-do on the News and Cameron getting redder and redder as the weeks pass. The British media are loving exploring all the Doomsday scenarios, obviously. Still, Harry from Mcfly is still in Strictly so there’s something to swoon over as we all sink into the abyss. Hope your launch is massive. The Champoo is on you!

Strictly Coming Dancing, the opium of the masses. Good old Auntie Beeb. Harry is rather fetching, though. He’d certainly keep my mind off the overdraft.

Check out my book

Perking the Pansies – Jack and Liam move to Turkey

X Factor Final

We watched the X Factor final from Wembley Arena. Polished production, big numbers, slick performances (but too many advert breaks). Commercial, manufactured bubble gum pop? Certainly. Fun and entertaining? Absolutely. Liam’s a huge fan. My first visit to the arena was way back in 1974 (I think) to watch Alice Cooper perform his Welcome to My Nightmare show. It was fabulous. I’m a huge fan.

Out and Proud

Little Mix won. I’m sure they’ll do well. Personally, I was rooting for Marcus Collins. I’m not saying this because he’s a member of the brethren. I’m saying this because he’s a charming young man and a great entertainer who I suspect will outlive the usual fifteen minutes of fame. Marcus makes no secret of his sexuality. He’s out and proud. He has a boyfriend and is a fantastic role model for young gay men. It’s no big deal to anyone except, perhaps, to the producers of the show as it was never mentioned. X Factor exploits the back stories of the contestants. It’s part of the formula. They interviewed his loving family, his best friend, even the Lord Mayor of Liverpool got a look in. Where was the boyfriend? Maybe he didn’t want be exposed. If so, that’s fine. If not, that’s not fine.

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Prowler Stocks Perking the Pansies

Prowler WindowOn the day Perking the Pansies, hit the presses, I found out that Joe Storey-Scott, the Book & Film Buyer for Millivres Prowler Group, contacted my publisher, Jo Parfitt. Prowler is Blighty’s premiere gay lifestyle chain with outlets in Brighton and on London’s Brewer Street, Soho. Joe has agreed to stock the book. Wow. Thank you, Joe.

Check out the book

Head Scarves and High Heels

I see Abdullah Gül, the President of Turkey, has been on a three day state visit to Blighty. I’m glad to see that cordial diplomatic relations are being maintained between our two great nations. As is the custom, Her Maj greeted the President and the First Lady on the steps of Buck House. Bodrum Belle, Jessica, sent me a link to a Daily Mail piece about it. I don’t read the rag and would normally have missed out on seeing this fantastic photograph; it’s pure pleasure. I wonder what the usually inscrutable old Queen was thinking? Take a look:

The Queen’s Astonishment

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Perking the Pansies – Jack and Liam move to Turkey

Stonewall’s Bigot of the Year

Gay marriage is a hot topic across the pond, particularly since the State of New York legalised it in July. The noisy vitriol from the opponents is depressingly predictable. In the end, I hope reason will triumph over ignorance. Meanwhile, over in Blighty, Stonewall recently awarded Melanie Phillips the Bigot of the Year Award. It’s much deserved. Ms Phillips is a columnist for the Daily Mail (no surprises there) and has written extensively on LGBT rights (they shouldn’t have any), Civil Unions (What next, getting hitched to your budgie?) Gay Marriage (God says no). Perhaps her most ludicrous assertion is:

“Mad as this may seem [you said it!], school children are to be bombarded with homosexual references… In science, they will be directed to ­ animal species such as emperor penguins and sea horses, where the male takes a lead role in raising its young.”

So, let me get this right. All fathers who bring up their children are gay? Does Ms Phillips drink?

In the final analysis, nothing I can say will make much of a difference but this video just might:

Thanks to What’s for Tea Tonight, Dear for the video

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Left to My Own Devices

I have been left to my own devices to keep the home fires burning. Liam has flown back to Blighty to take care of his folks. Father-in-law is in hospital and mother-in-law needs a little TLC. His siblings are all doing a turn and Liam is the opening act. So, I have two weeks home alone to fiddle, twiddle and scribble. What to do? There are a few odd jobs to do around the house; they may help to keep me out of mischief.

With winter lurking out to sea, I climbed onto the roof this morning to shut off the water supply from the solar panels. This involved clambering up two rotting wooden ladders and being horse-whipped by the canopy of a giant tree dripping with almost-ripe olives. It has to be done, otherwise the bathroom water heater won’t work. Don’t ask me why. It’s one of the great mysteries of the modern era, like Stonehenge. One of these days I’m going to break my neck.

For no reason other than the title of this post I give you the Pet Shop Boys.

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The Dorothy Dollar and Pink Pound

When I was in negotiation with my publisher, Jo Parfitt, she asked me if Perking the Pansies, the book, would attract a wider audience beyond a gay niche. It’s a question I had asked of myself. It’s not a bad niche to be stuck in. By some accounts, the pink pound is worth about £6 billion in the UK and the US equivalent (the dorothy dollar) is reckoned to be worth a staggering $640 billion. Even if this is an exaggeration in these recessionary times it’s still big bucks.

The more I thought about it the more I realised that neither the book nor the blog are actually about gay life in Turkey, rather they are about a gay couple living in Turkey. This is an important distinction. I did a little digging about my blog readership. It turned out that my pansy fans are overwhelmingly British, female (about 70%) and over 45 (around 80%). Even though the blog is occasionally a little naughty and  gay boy about town, this hasn’t put off the straight reader. This may be because gay culture is much more mainstream in Britain than elsewhere. The gay scene has emerged from the dark ghetto on the wrong side of the tracks and gone very high street (or Main Street as they say on the other side of the pond), the Daily Mail has stopped being routinely beastly and the tea-time TV choices for British women of a certain age are Graham Norton and Paul O’Grady (neither of whom hide their flashing pink light under a bushel).

What do you think?

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Sisters are Doing it for Themselves

I’ve never really got futbol. In my experience, few gay people do. Having said that, there is a Gay Football Supporters Network and London has its very own gay-friendly team, the London Titans, who play serious soccer in local leagues. So what do I know? Perhaps times are changing and the sport is finally shedding its well-trodden racist, sexist and homophobic image. I suspect the jury’s still out on that one. In any case, it’s too late for me. I’m set in my gay old ways. The only football game I’ve ever attended was when I popped along with my sister to watch my young nephew proudly captain his little league team in a local park. My usually calm and matriarchal sibling was transformed into a screaming harridan. Such is the intoxicating power of the beautiful game.

England gave football to the world then ruined it by exporting hooliganism. The tribal thuggery that afflicted the English game in the 80s and 90s has largely died out but is still alive and kicking in many other corners of the world. Fenerbahçe, one of Turkey’s top soccer teams, had a bit of bother with their own fans of late. Rather than play their matches behind locked gates, they decided to punish their unruly supporters by filling their stadium with women and children only. Men were persona non grata. It was a rip-roaring success that hit the headlines. The ladies electrified the good humoured ambience as they partied in the stands, sang, chanted, waved and danced. They knew all the words and all the moves. Was this a just a cynical gimmick to attract positive PR or a genuine attempt to keep the bad boys at bay and let the ladies shine? Who knows? Still, women are invading the pitch all over the world these days with their own local and national teams. Are Turkish women finally coming out of the kitchen and doing it for themselves? I do hope so. Go girls!

Thanks to Marie for the inspiration for this one.

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