Perking the Pansies, Unwrapped

Perking the Pansies, Unwrapped
What’s Santa bringing you this year?

Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the cover for Perking the Pansies. As threatened, it’s colourful with a lot of pansies and a delicious hint of Turkey. I think it’ll catch the eye on the book shelf. Let’s face it, it’ll probably glow in the dark. A huge thank you to award-winning author, Paul Burston, who has given such a radiant review. Paul wrote:

“An entertaining story, told with wit and insight.” Paul Burston, author, The Gay Divorcee

I’m really looking forward to presenting the book at the Polari Literary Salon in London early next year. Thank you also to the other reviewers who have given the book the thumbs up. I’m thrilled. You can read what they had to say here.

Perking the Pansies available now to pre-order on Amazon.co.uk. Order today and the book will be delivered to you soon after it’s published on 15th December 2011. It’ll be available on to order on Amazon.com very soon.

Thank you to all those who voted and commented (good and critical) on my post, What’s in a Name? After much straw-polling, soul searching and deliberation, my publisher, Jo Parfitt, had an overnight epiphany. The next day, she emailed me with unconcealed excitement.

“Perking the Pansies – Jack and Liam move to Turkey”

Just like that, a book title was born. Inspired.

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Cover Story

Polari Literary Salon

Gentleman Jack

Nose to Nipple Brits

To provide a little liquid respite from the endless book edits, I joined the Gümbet Gals for toasts and tittle-tattle. I hailed the dolly on the promenade, paid my fare and sat next to an elderly Turk who began to engage me in animated conversation. Despite my pathetic attempts to explain in Turklish that I couldn’t understand a word, he wittered on regardless, much to the amusement of the Turkish ladies in front of us. I smiled sweetly like the Queen Mother, nodding now and again to pacify him. The dolly sped over the hilly promontory that separates Bodrum from its uglier sister and dropped me off at the edge of the resort. I strolled through the silent streets. Gümbet is closed for the winter and all the tattooed pot-bellied Brits have returned to Blighty. My destination was Jack’s Bar (the name’s just a happy co-incidence), an inexpensive and unpretentious little watering hole just off the now locked up main drag. It’s one of the few establishments that stays open all year. I spent a funny, sunny afternoon gassing and guzzling with the Gals. As the sun set and the air grew chilly, I’d had my fill and the delightful owner gave me a lift home. What a gent.

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Painting the Town Pink

Dream Girls, the Nightmare

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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Gay Marriage in New York

Second Time Around


Tales from the Water Closet

Emiköy Alan, who as a hunky young rookie snatched the Queen’s shilling but found it to be debased, lives with the missus in a traditional Turkish village near Dalyan. Alan writes affectionately of their lives as rustic emigreys in his blog Archers of Okçular. He often leaves witty (so he thinks) comments on my posts. In fact, he’s my number one pundit. It gives him a little pleasure between the frequent power cuts they endure in the wilderness.

Alan recently published a post about the evolution of Turkish privies from low slung to high tech. To be mildly obsessed with evacuation is a peculiarly British pre-occupation. It’s our Dunkirk spirit. Alan reminds us of the all-in-one dump and rinse pans that are now common in this part of the world. The in-pan bidet accessory is a novel concept. Don’t attempt it in winter, though. The icy rush could cause a seizure in those with a weak constitution. When I first tried it, the water pressure was so high that the jet shot between my legs and hit the wall opposite. These days I prefer to use a pack of wet wipes to maintain a fragrant ring.

Cue the funny video:

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Have You Been?

Silent But Deadly

What’s in a Name?

The select group of people who’ve had a chance to read the Perking the Pansies manuscript have commented how different the book is from the blog. Sure, it covers some of the same terrain but, they say it’s much more than just the random comic utterings of a myopic ex-pretty boy from the Smoke. They say it’s a proper book with a plot that has revelation, depth, pathos and pace. Laugh and cry has been mentioned in dispatches. I’m relieved that the initial reaction has been so positive.

There’s just one thing, though. We’re having a heated debate about the subtitle for the book. A subtitle is important because it conveys the subject of the book and should include keywords to help with internet searching and book classification. Perking the Pansies alone might give people the impression that the book is about horticulture!

Obvious keywords for the book include:

Gay – Gay Couple – Expats – Turkey – Surviving

So I thought, why not ask my loyal pansyfans? I know people haven’t read the book yet but if you fancy it, why not vote for your favourite.

Alternatively, if you have a different suggestion, please leave a comment.

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Perking the Pansies, the Book

I’m Coming Out

Uniform Behaviour

Now that the Turkish authorities have banned the home delivery of alcohol, we have to trudge to our local Tansaş supermarket several times a week to replenish our supply. As we meander through the aisles, we invariably bump into Ahmed, our friendly security guard. Ahmed used to work at a beach-side bar but gave up irregular seasonal work for security, year round employment and wages paid on time. He speaks good English and gently berates me for my lack of progress with the local lingo. Quite right too. His job consists of little more than a presence in the store. He’s bored rigid and likes to chat. Supermarkets around the world have one thing in common. They move products around to make the punters complete a full circuit. It encourages impulse buying. Ahmed is always on hand to find what we’re looking for: our very own personal shopper. Unfortunately, he doesn’t help us lug the litre bottles back home.

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Supermarket Sweep

Cheaper than Primark

Will the Real Jack Scott Please Stand Up?

Google sits astride the internet like a leviathan. Forget Yahoo or Bing or a host of smaller search engines, only Google counts. Their search algorithms can make or break an online presence. If you don’t show up in the first few pages of Google, you may as well not be on the internet at all. It’s all about search engine optimisation (SEO) and ways to make it better. There’s an entire industry dedicated to improving it (or trying to cheat the clever geeks at Google). How’s a humble little jobbing blogger in a faraway country most people couldn’t place on a map ever going to make his mark? Well, Perking the Pansies does well. Google favours fresh, frequently renewed content and my content is frequently renewed, if not fresh. Sorted.

1923 -2008

Little Jack Scott, though, struggles. The name is a curse. It’s eclipsed by other more illustrious Jacks plastered all over the web. Who are these pretenders to my rightful throne? Well, there’s Jack Scott, (AKA Giovanni Dominico Scafone Jr) the Canadian singer ‘undeniably the greatest Canadian rock and roll singer of all time,’ apparently. I’d never heard of him. Sorry. Then there’s the late Jack Scott, buck-teethed weather man who died in 2008. He was everyone’s favourite weather guru and brought magnetic weather symbols to live broadcasts on the BBC. Unfortunately, they often slipped down the board or dropped off altogether. My final Jack is the now infamous Mayor of the little town of Cordova in Alabama which was flattened by killer tornadoes earlier this year. Mayor Scott refused to allow trailers into the town to house the newly homeless because he didn’t want to encourage trailer trash. Sounds like a fine and upstanding pillar of the community.

So, what’s a diminutive, washed-up ex pretty boy with his best years behind him to do? Change his name to Dick Stillhard (no wait, that’s already taken).

Thanks to Spainstruck for the inspiration for this one.

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Sense and Censorship

The threat of compulsory Government prescribed filters to access the internet here in Turkey seems to have mercifully receded. According to an article in the Turkish Daily News, the use of filters is now voluntary. The article states that during the three month trial period, 22,000 Turkish internet users (out of a total of 11.5 million) signed up to the service. Not exactly a sell-out tour.

Meanwhile in Pakistan, according to the Think Progress website, the Telecommunications Authority has banned users from texting 16,000 words that are considered offensive or obscene. The list of prohibited words (a mixture of Urdu and English) include:

lesbian, virgin, homosexual, condom, intercourse, breast, athlete’s foot, deposit, flogging the dolphin (?), black out, drunk, flatulence, glazed donut, harem, hostage, murder, penthouse, Satan, and wait for it, Jesus Christ.

This has got to be a hoax.

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Gaygle It

One Out, All Out

Top of the Blogs

I was flush with pink pride. Perking the Pansies briefly occupied the top spot on Blogroll Centre, one of the (many, many) blog directories I’ve joined. Sadly, the honour was short-lived, a temporary aberration caused by a transient interest in Now That’s What I Call Old, a post that resulted in 2,700 hits. The next day, Perking the Pansies dropped to 3rd place. A one day, one hit wonder. Doubtless the blog will continue to slide down the charts like an X Factor has-been that never was. To be honest I’m not entirely sure if any of these blog directories is worth the effort or the repetitive strain injury. I joined them on the off-chance they might broaden my audience. I think some are sophisticated enough to help with Google rankings but I wouldn’t know which. All I can say is that I would never consider paying for the dubious privilege of a listing, preferring to spend my dwindling assets on booze, fags and leather thongs.

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The Seven Links Project

My Manx Kitten

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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