Set The Outrageometer to Moir

Oh yes, the Daily Express. Well done. I thought you’d take the positive view on this one.

Bit of back story for you Johnny Foreigners: the Daily Express is read by six people, all of them hate anyone who doesn’t like Antiques Roadshow and wears ‘a funny hat’. They normally spend their headlines saying either saying that an everyday object can give you cancer, or that Diana, Princess of Wales was killed in a horrible conspiracy and not enough of us own plates with the Queen’s face on them. Not that you should ever use these plates, you proles - how dare you sully Her Majesty’s face with your Sommerfield arctic roll. That’s treason, that is.

And the headline story is the victory of two gay men at the high court, both of whom were facing deportation back to their own countries where homosexuality was illegal. This was the appeal to a previous judgement that was going to return them with the note saying ‘Basically, keep your trap shut, don’t mention the manicure, and you’ll be fine’. What quality of life this must be. Finally, the High Court saw sense and let the two defendants stay in the country - with the hilarious summing up from Lord Rodgers ”...so male homosexuals are to be free to enjoy themselves going to Kylie concerts, drinking exotically-coloured cocktails and talking about boys with their straight female mates.” Oh La Rodgers, when did you sneak in to see ‘Sex And The City 2’, you sly old dog! You got us pegged exactly right! That’s all we do!

Wait, that was a knee-jerk reaction: I would like to say I do more than drink multi-coloured cocktails, listen to Kylie and bang on about nice cocks, but I'd be lying. Absolutely bare-faced falsehood. For Cher’s sake, there’s been over a thousand posts on this dastardly pink site, and all of them are to do with the above trio Points of Interest. I think I’m delighting more in the bigger issues here: all of a sudden, gay people can ask for asylum here, opening the floodgates for feather boa-wearing queens in hot-pants. This a bad thing, I have to ask? Ever since the cheap-yet-diligent workforce of Poles have buggered off to where the money is (apparently Sweden) we’ve a yawning gap in our capacity for manual labour, mostly because we British are too happy at home watching Jeremy Kyle to clean McDonalds toilets. Personally, I wouldn’t mind any hole filled by a delightfully swarthy Gentleman Who Can’t Catch, but that’s a whole other story.

Slight sideline: as there’s a test for British Citizenship (try it if you’re a UK national - the pass rate is apparently 75% - and I got 40%. I’ll get my Louis Vuitton luggage and get out...) does this mean that there’s going to be a Gay Test for asylum seekers? And can I watch? Although one would assume it would be a government official holding up pictures of female soap stars of the 1960s and being told to indicate which ones were fabulous or not (here’s a clue - if they’re wearing curlers, it doesn’t instantly mean that they’re dowdy).

The problem is, as this media swirl ramps up from when it started, the idea of drinking exotically-coloured cocktails and popping along to see Minogue K do a set (hopefully Old Sexy Kylie. New Hyperventilating Kylie can float off) is more and more appealing as the morning wears on. It’s a hard life, I know. Personally I’ve found it tough to include multi-coloured cocktails in every part of my life, but have just gotten used to my All-Bran Daquiri of a morning. But that’s me: drunk and regular.