A very merry Christmas and a Gay new Year!

I spent all of Chrimble ill, yup sick. The pre-Christmas illness was a rather vicious headcold so I couldn't taste a thing and my vision went all funny, this taught me that chocolate isn't as nice if you can't taste it and that sprouts well they are about the same. I got some very gay shirts for Christmas, with matching socks from my mother, lilac is a hard colour to wear but I am looking forward to the challenge.

I had a brief interlude where I felt okay (which had the family shoot in it luckily) I wombled around the hills waving at pheasants and talking to rellies, it was lovely. For the evening meal I was sat on a table full of 'terribly suitably young ladies' half of whom had alice bands on. They were pleasant but rather dull, I mean dull as with out an edge at all. I had a few Great Aunts try and pair me off with a few of them and then I went home. It was nice but it seems the family are starting to get a bit worried about me...

After that I got gastric flu so I couldn't keep food down for about 3 days, this means I missed out on all the delicious variations on turkey post-Christmas and I lost a bit of weight. It was rather strange losing weight over Christmas, but I did grow a smashing beard.

I am back in London now, sans beard and typing before I go out on new years eve. I was going to stay in and watch telly in my pants (and there is still a chance I may) but S, whom I spent all of today with asked me to join her at the club she is working at.

Today was, as far as I had been told a visit to the Royal Academy of Arts (the exhibit on China) with 'the girls' - a load of very fun giggly girls who get that I am not actually gay and like the fact I can shop like at trooper etc. Anyway, it turned out to be just S and I, doing some shopping then some food then some more shopping and then some cocktails in Claridges. It felt very much like a date, which I think could be good, she is rather lovely and perhaps could change my opinion on blondes. One of her life goals is to have her bodyweight in underwear and she makes nipple tassels for a living, well more of a side-earner but what a fun one hey?

Anyway, I have decided that I am going to make Claridges one of my haunts, and now I must away to try out my new bath scent from Bliss before I get into my beautiful white linen suit with the lilac shirt + socks.

So I am going to see in 2006 dressed like a peacock and smelling a bit gay, just as things should be.

x

Today

I saw a giant mimsy because of work, some other things happened but when you see a foo-foo larger than you are everything else sort of gets forgotten.

Oh and I am going for lunch in a bit with a girl I like, and she likes me but she does have a boyfriend.

Notting Hill

Friday was a proper London adventure, by adventure I mean going to the pub with one group of people and leaving with another to go to a flat party for a chap you don't know.

I spent the whole time in a delightful drunken haze of cucumber martini's and white Russians it was like watching the evening in soft focus in the third person and the chap I was watching was having a wonderful time.

At some point much, much later on I sort of woke up from it all like diving through a wave of water. There was a girl sat on my lap and another one was sprawled across me like a sleeping cat. They were both feverishly applying make-up to my face pausing only to admire their handy work and then kiss me. On the otherside of the room I could see a chap trying to play a sad tune on a guitar with no strings. Another drink was pushed into my hand and I sipped on the vodka and tonic and looked at the debauchery happening around me. Every time I regained focus another drink was offered or another kiss, it was all rather intoxicating.

Thankfully after a while my homing instinct kicked in. I discovered that flagging down a cab while wearing lippy is a challenging affair. Clearly most cabbies are sexist bastards.

The rest of the weekend was spent in hiding trying to remove the make-up (I still have a bit of eyeliner on), followed by an extensive cleaning and cooking session. Which revealed that my cleaner appears to have stolen the frying pan, as well as the cheese grater, for what devilish motivations I just can't comprehend.

Ancient Egypt and Audrey Tautou's underwear

It was the work party last night, the head chap tried to find somewhere as kitsch as possible for our party so we ended up going to some vast tent thingy that had been decorated in the style of Ancient Egypt. It was gloriously tacky and fantastically hot, which I suppose is quite authentic but does make having a good boogie rather hard work. Still I got home at 1pm and I didn't snog anyone or anything, and I barely thought about being turned down by the party organiser as I was too busy drinking and talking to the fun girls about shoes and hair.

Today is a special day, I had some of my work printed in a magazine, only a tiny thing but it is there and that is what counts. I am going to have to stop shaving as I can call myself a troubled writer now and have interesting hair and smoke little cigars in Soho while talking about the pretences of modern life. I am also glad that my first bit of writing was about Audrey Tautou's pants.

I love Audrey, she is lovely and quirky and French. We would have lazy Saturday mornings reading the papers and feeding each other pastries, she would say something cutting about English fashion because she knows it annoys me and I would tickle her until she collapsed into giggles and relented. Then we would go for a walk along a beach with a slightly naughty dog before stopping in a tiny little tea-house for a cream tea.

Not so great news.

Well I found from one of my 'agents' (one of my vast army of female friends) that I am really not the party organiser's type, my apparent lack of mental prowess must have been just a bit too much. I must admit I had my concerns so I should have listened to them.

Still one must focus on the positives, I have truly a wonderful shirt on today and my choice of perfume is co-ordinating perfectly with the seasonal smells of mulled wine and spices.

It's gonna be a gay, gay christmas

My pre-crimbo detox is going well, last night I made a light salad of boiled winter vegatables and then splashed out on a baked potato afterwards. I must admit part of me felt a bit guilty about having a meal that didn't involve lard, wine or a dead animal.

Then I listened to christmas tunes danced around to them while doing the ironing, nights in are such a treat, especially at this time of year.

Today I need to shopping for a secret santa gift and a great big jumper so I can look like Wham did in the 'Last Christmas' video, because that is what Christmas is all about.

I fear that my 'humourous script' of that party organiser may get back to her, while sniggering at it my assistant saw it over my shoulder and demanded to see a copy. She knows the party organiser and sent it to some friends (because she thought it was funny). I still can't decide if the organiser seeing it is a good thing or not, so to be on the safe side I am going to turn my phone off and move to Uzbekistan.

Many girls in pants

Friday was great, Saturday was great, Sunday was great. It was all great.

Friday was a 'special party' for women who are happy to admit they like sex and like dressing up or something, what this means is a club full of girls in their pants, being outrageously flirty. I was sprayed gold and dressed as an angel (with two chums dressed the same) and these to things together are great. Great.

There was twister which had some marvelous moments, my friend T joined in when the board was full of supple lovelies but he found himself playing an entirely male game and his face was hovering awfully close to rather unpleasant places on other males, so he twisted his way to the edge of the board far away from them. More girls joined in at this point but apparently all the straining female flesh was a bit to much for him and he ended up slipping and dropping out of the game. Jolly good show though.

I got a lap dance for a female friend from the female lap dancer, I am still not entirely sure why. It was lovely to watch but also a little bit strange. Still the friend had delightfully Rosy cheeks by the end of it all.

We put lots of booze in our faces and the chaps talked to lots of girls, I did a bit of talking but all the new ones I talked to knew me already (but I didn't remember it from before) so I stopped doing that and just talked to female chums. The party organiser was there, looking stunning again but as she talks to me like I am a 'special needs' child I am not entirely sure how one progresses on from that to 'hey, lets get a drink'. She is marvelous though. Even if I do something ace for her (say get her a free pole dancing pole worth over £500) she treats me like a mong who just happened to find a key to save the world because it, was shiney and tasted of locks.
Sort of like this

Girl-'Oh no this nuclear station is going to explode in 30 seconds unless we can find the reprogramming unit'
Me - 'I say I just happen to have a reprogramming unit here, I picked it up earlier'
*hands unit over to girl*
Girl - 'What's that mungo? You have found something? Wow you found the unit, what are the odds of that? Oh bless you and your simple ways you must have picked it up because it was shiney.'
Me - 'Actually no, I thought there was a chance that the evil Dc McDoctor might destroy the unit as part of his plan so I took the liberty of bringing a spare'
Girl - 'Good Mongo, when we get back I will make sure you get some Jelly'
Me - 'I would much rather see you naked to be honest'
Girl - 'Yes Mongo, jelly with ice-cream'

And so on

On Saturday Scottish chap and I went to a rock pub we met up with L and did some great speed drinking. L was on form that night and after a speed-chinese we scampered onto a party for some of L's friends in Hampstead. I would like to live in Hampstead, but it would be terrible to get to work from there. Alas. Still we got jolly drunk and did silly things with wax. We all drew pictures of mustelids drinking and then talked about why girls were rubbish, with girls. I talked to a Swedish girl about differences in the sex lives of Swedish people and Britishers. Then we poored more wax on the table and broke a lighter, it was like being the bench of naughty people at the back of the physics lesson that think they are cool but are actually a bit spazzy. If we had been wearing matching ties they would have been tied in a funny way and possibly customised with tippex.

Sunday involved going to museums, learning about aliens and then drinking lots of ale in my local pub.

A brilliant weekend.

Today I went for lunch with the Scotch person and girls from the office, one of the girl is going to write me a reference as boyfriend material, that is the second girl to suggest that in a couple of weeks.
It is an improvement from being thought of as gay, maybe I should I start a new blog called 'I'm not mentally retarded' and just chronical my adventures with the marvelous party organiser instead.

'I would love to have phone sex with you'

I am sorry to say that this entry is not going to get as good as that title.

A very old friend (old as in ages ago rather then elderly) has come down from Scotchland to visit me and have a bit of a drinking session.

We went to my favourite local for lunch and a whole bunch of fun people from the office wombled along too. The conversation got very rude very quickly through the aid of mulled wine. I think they were trying to shock him by being extra naughty. It worked, some of the things they said made me feel positively unwell.

Anyway we had a lovely lunch, I got to stroke the pet ginger cat, all the best bars have cats in them, this one has three cats.

After the main course one of my work chum said very loudly.

'I would love to have phone sex with you'

In the context of the conversation it was less shocking but as per usual everyone else in the bar went quiet. Then we left (after a bit of cat interaction) and spent the whole walk home going on about how swingers are ugly.

Now My chum-from-Scotchland is currently striding around London trying to find suitable costume bits for the party tonight, which I think, will be jolly good fun.

Back on Form

My evening consisted of manly telly (TopGear, Dragons Den) and then I had an hour long bath and then gave myself a face pack, with cucumbers and everything. It was lovely, face packs are ace for two reasons.

1)When you peel them off it is like a giant bogie on your face, that smells nice. Or an unusual skin complaint but one you are supposed to pick at

2)They make your skin all soft afterwards.

Chaps not so confident in their sexuality should focus on the first point.

I have at least one supper arranged tonight, possibly two. One is with a set of very old friends who I haven't seen in ages. I also just found out I have a party tomorrow too, as well as the one on Friday. I am going to be so very, very broken.

Don't stop me now....

Friday was a night of drinking, or perhaps just an afternoon of drinking. The ancient spirit of booze was with me that day and I had a thirst that would have made Oliver Reed go

'oh steady on chap there is no need for double rounds.'

But their was, there was a great need. Although perhaps I should have paced myself a little bit more, as a result I was ruined by about 8pm.

Here is a photo of me at about 11pm, as you can see from the photo I have drunk so much I no-longer have a brain and I am living on animal instinct. Shortly after this photo was taken I fell over and then went home.

The next day I felt terrible, so terrible that I swore myself off drink for a while. Which lasted until the evening when I was at a party drinking J2o and I made the mistake of reading what was in them, after that I promptly switched to the champers, got ruined and ended up eating some tinsel to see if it tasted of sparkles.

I am at work now feeling awful and wondering if I can sneak home at lunch time and have a shower.

Yesterday I sort of accidentally asked out someone who does some work for us, this may not be a very good plan. We shall see.

Not a very gay weekend to be honest just a boozy one.

Sleep.

I haven't had a decent nights sleep in ages, and I just don't know why. I hear it is to do with stress, but apart from the fact my winter wardrobe needs a bit of work I don't have an awful lot to be stressed about.

I just had a super lunch of sausages and other lovely lunchy things. My cunning plan this evening is to go swimming so I can get all tired and thus get a good nights kip. Or failing that I am going to go to a support group for men with testicular cancer and hug Meatloaf.

Maybe I should form a Fight Club, what is that ace quote about bodies in it.

'A guy who came to Fight Club for the first time, his ass was a wad of cookie dough. After a few weeks, he was carved out of wood. '

Although I don't think I could manage the whole living conditions thing, call me fussy if you will but I need a decent bathroom and a hallway with-out rusty nails sticking out everywhere.

Hats.

I had a date on Friday, a proper date. It was jolly exciting, we were supposed to go ice-skating but instead we had tapas and got outrageously drunk. I was still drunk the next day, it was like special long-life booze had got into my system or something.

She was very pleasant but I'm not sure how it went really, she didn't hit me or anything but it didn't end up with anything naughty either. She wore a very silly hat which covered up her beautiful hair, but had excellent shoes on so I suppose that balances out. I would like to see her naked, or failing that in a better headgear.

I spent the rest of the weekend meeting various girls for coffee and eating Chinese food, then I went home and wore my only pants while watching the telly.

Today I have been playing about with colour palettes and fiddling with computery stuff to do with colour palettes, I like it because I get to have long conversations about what 'Aegean Cruise' says as a colour compared to 'Hop Grove 2'. We had quite a heated debate about 'Inner Shell' but thankfully I managed to put forward my point and the shade was avoided.

I went for lunch with all the girls as a very lovely person has been offered a job and said yes, we had nice warm pasta and talked about weddings, boots and why parents don't understand dating. It was very gay. One of the girls said I should become a wedding planner. She said in a loud voice, during a timely gap in the music.

'Any bride would feel safe in your hands on her wedding night'

The whole bar looked at me, and I blushed all the way home.

Musicals and Richard Branson's loo

Oh golly gosh today has been busy.

First off I spent about 2 hours talking about 'what your favourite musical says about you' and when you should break in to song in public. I think provided your dance routine is good enough almost anywhere. Opinion was divided on this hotly contested issue. The debate had to be put on hold because I had a meeting to go to, not my normal sort of meeting (i.e. take a pretty girl out for coffee and talk about Vivian Westwood) but an actual business meeting it was dull, so I drew pictures of otters riding motorcycles on a bit of paper

Thankfully I have my priorities right in that I have put aside some time for monging on the interweb. As an added benefit this involves arranging a date with a lovely girl I met at a gig, we are going to go ice-skating. Going ice-skating is an important part of romantic comedies so I am rather looking forward to this, I shall have to start selecting the sound track right now.

A chum has sent me pictures of Richard Bransons downstairs loo for some reason I am still not entirely sure why, it took me ages to guess who it was - I couldn't believe someone that successful would have such awful wallpaper. I mean honestly, it is not like he couldn't hire someone to provide some advice. Still he has a beard, so his style is clearly in question.

Sadly I am sporting a bit of a facial growth at the moment too, Jeeves would definitely not approve of such an aberration on my face. Still it is jolly cold and it will be going to the big face in the sky later this evening before I go to a party.

I thought I would combine the stubble with a rugby shirt to make me look a touch more macho but it appears to have had the opposite affect as someone has already said I look like a lovely gay bear.

It is going to be a very gay day.

Gooseograms

Well most of the erotica money is gone now, I spent it on a stupidly high phone bill. I only really paid the phone bill because I like sending text message pictures of my day to chums. Picture text messages are the acerest. Now I can send pictures of geese falling over to my pals even when I am on holiday, I bet that is what Alexander Graham Bell was thinking about when he inventorised the telephone.

I think the only thing better than picture messages are telegrams, I wish I could send telegrams like they do in P.G. Wodehouse stories.

RUN OUT OF DRINK STOP BRING GIN NOW STOP DO NOT TELL AUNT AGATHA STOP.

The rest of the money has been spent on computery bits, which is a shame but I needed them after I brought the wrong the bits while drunk and then lost the recept.

Shell-shock and mung beans.

I have shell-shock, the effects of late nights, wine and other people's fetishes has got to me. I want to wear lots of army clothes, especially vests and smoke while warning people to keep an eye out for 'charley' or 'bosh'. Then after a bit I want to go all crazy and work on growing a fab beard while mumbling about how Jones was a good man, and we lost too many good men.

More importantly I don't want to see any nude people ever again, or have sex. I might have to be come one of those smug abstinence people and move to Islington and eat mung beans for the rest of my days. There was a while when I was tempted to become a Bhuddist but I hate the colour orange and so it just couldn't work for me. If they can come up with a Business class Bhuddism with a better colour scheme and some good benefits I will definitely revisit the whole thing.

I am sure I will be fine in a couple of days really, after I have washed my soul out with lemons, bleach and lavender.

Last night I ended up taking two girls back to the flat for more drinking adventures, I gave them both goodie bags of lippy and other things and showed them my bathroom. They both said it was a very gay bathroom but liked my choice of essential oils. I think they were just jealous of my shampoo.

We drank lots of wine (well actually I drank wine, they mostly spilled it on the floor) while watching Black Books and talking about rubbish. There was a point in the evening when it all could have got very, VERY rude but it was deftly side-stepped, through my now very practiced technique.

I think it is going to be at least a week before I can face any sort of adult activity - by adult I mean something naughty, not just talking about mortages and where the good schools are.

Shoes or Phones

Today is the final day, only nine more hours and then it is all over. I am wondering what to spend the money I have made so far on, currently I am torn between paying my phone bill or buying some shoes.

Who really needs a telephone if you have brilliant shoes?

Right, time to scamper off to the show. I have been listening to the Velvet Underground a lot, it is helping. I bet the feeling you get after coming down of heroin is just like having to go to a porny show four days in a row.

A gay time was had by all.

I have had very much enough of other people's sex lives. I don't want to go back tomorrow but I must. Today I learned that hangovers and Erotica do no mix, and that I don't actually like the sort of people that go to Erotica. The other people on the stands are very pleasant but the people going, no. They all want to do the sex and that is WRONG.

The last couple of days have been very gay for me.

On Saturday night was a big industry do with all sorts of people getting drunk, we went for a meal first and everyone went out about how gay I was (and ate food of course). I said that as long as I have a well tied cravat and a good fourstroke chainsaw the rest is window dressing, this went down well but they still thought I was gay.

Then we went to this bar and I met some industry people, one girl said she would write me a reference as boyfriend material which I thought was nice, she has just made a porny film and was going on about arty it was. I really do wonder what it will be like.

Will people be humping each other in front of a nice Rubins while something moving by Greig plays in the background? Do winkies and art mix? Do you think somewhere in the art world some girl is going on about how she has done a good drawing and it is really porny?

Then a not-a-girlfriend of a work mate turned up with a friend. The friend seemed rather jolly she thought I was gay for a bit, decided I wasn't and then got furious because I didn't try and kiss her so stormed out of the bar. It all happened so fast I am still not entirely sure what I did wrong.

I have seen so many droopy nipples in the last few days, droopy nipples and men in chaps. Still the girls we have working our stand are enjoyably kooky and provide much entertainment through their jibber-jabbing.

In other news an awfully nice girl I met at the gig and I exchanged the briefest of email conversations before my Erotica experience began. She is awfully nice and I would like to ask her out on a date, a nice PG date with nothing even remotely rude happening and her not thinking I am gay.

That is what I would like, well that and another of my precious mangos to ripen. Maybe if I go and look for a while they will ripen more.

Badger lust

I spent most of the day today at Erotica, it wasn't planned but it happened. Much like a ginger child, I have some regrets but what is done is done.

Erotica is strange, by attending you find out that lost of ugly people have sex too, very loud showy sex. I could do with out this information. The event also has a very special atmosphere, it is dirty, just by going you feel dirty. It is like the feeling you get just after you have had sex with a badger, a road killed badger, up the bum, in front of your local vicar. Or so I imagine.

Sullied is what I am, if I was in 17th century France my reputation would be ruined and I would have no choice but to move the colonies.

And this is only day one of four.

Today I saw 6 winkies belonging to other people and 7 sets of nipples of old people. I have no desire to see either of them.

I met some Thai lady boys, one of whom, from behind looked exactly like an ex of mine, which was a little strange but also hot.

No not really.

Well a little bit maybe.

We have some girls working with us at Erotica and and they are fun, I spent a large part of the event drinking vodka with them and talking about dogs.

Tomorrow I am going to wear velvet and we are going to have a picnic.

Last night...

Last night I stopped a crime (which would make a good opening line to a punk song) some little chap was getting accosted by some other chaps for his wallet phone etc, I shouted at them and they got back on their bicycles and cycled off. It's a shame it wasn't a pretty girl being accosted, not that I want more pretty girls to be accosted but then I could save them and they could swoon into my arms or something.

When I was in Scotchland there was a period of a couple of months when I kept saving lives, people would spaz out on the street right in front of me or I would find someone choaking on their own vomit. That was jolly exciting but none of them were hot girls either, still I did get to stick my fingers down a tramps throat so it has it's own rewards I suppose.

I saw a band too (in a club), the singer was very jumpy and good. Then another band came on and they were a bit lame, still there a was a good bit in the pause between the songs where some person at the back of the room said really loudly

'...But they lead singer does look like Freddy Kruger...'

He did in a way, Freddy during his indy period.

Mangos

It is Erotica this week, so after Wednesday most of my week is going to be spent having mechanics from Dudley tell me about their sex lives. I don't want to hear about the sex lives of ugly people, but at least the fact they talk in a funny way makes up for what they are saying.

'y'am loiks it up the bum'

Last time I met lots of tranvestites who worked in the building trade, they had big thick arms and dressed liked Tory wives from the home counties. The ones I chatted too seemed quite pleasant until they kept going on about how they wanted their winky chopped off.

In preperation for being hit with this barrage of filth and debauchery I have got in some supplies of food to help cleanse the spirit. Lots of green tea and some mangos. I am going to have to buy some more mangos now as I ate most of them last night as they were too tasty looking. I love mangos me, if I was James Bond, Goldfinger would just have to send in a girl with a tray of mangos and I would probably crack.

James: So do you expect me to talk?
Goldfinger: No Mr Bond, I expect you to die.
James: Aren't you supposed to try and use mangos on me?
Goldfinger: Nope, lasers hurt more.
James: This dialogue doesn't make much sense anymore.
Goldfinger: Not really, fancy a mango?
James: Oh yes please. Can I have a knife so I don't make a mess?
Goldfinger: Of course, I just had the carpets cleaned you know.

ACTION: James takes knife and stabs Goldfinger with it and then runs off with a girl and a nice car, and more mangos.

FIN.

Also at Erotica will be some people who work in porn, most of them think I am gay too.

Back in London.

I am back from home now, I spent most of the time eating, looking at geese and spending quality time with 'the fam'

In some ways it was a journey of self discovery, taking time out from my life and thinking about the world, here are my collected thoughts.

Geese are better than ducks.

Man can live on cake alone, provided you have at least two helpings of fruit cake a day.

I don't suit a beard.

I am back in London now, it is cold so I am wearing a cravat. I think I am going to go flat hunting as it is time to move on, I think somewhere in Hampstead or Regents Park would be nice as they seem to have the highest percentage of woman I fancy walking about.

Gayest thing I did all week: Had a bake-off with my little brother and then spent an afternoon talking about the colour pallet of the high-street winter collections.

'What is your boyfriend like?'

Last night was an experience. I ended up having supper with Shelly from Alica's Attic (well when the band was still about). She was lovely and we spoke on many grown up subjects like how left handed people are the best and David Bowie's trousers, then she asked me what 'my boyfriend was like'.

Not 'so are you gay or straight' or even 'do you have a girlfriend' straight to 'what is your boyfriend like'. When I corrected her on the matter she said I was too well dressed to be straight.

Admittedly after that she started stroking my leg so I suppose that is a good sign. I also met Holly Hotlips, who used to be on the Chris Evan's show (when he was on radio1) she has very hot lips and a boney bum.

I have a very bad hangover, not one of the all time greats but definitely a strong one. If it was a football team The manager would say this after the game.

'We went in there and we did what we had to do, its not going to set the world on fire but we got the points we needed and now we can move on to the next round'

I am drinking soup out of a cup but it's helping.

Gayest thing I have done today: Ordered a Barbara Streisand boxset off play.com