Thursday, 25 June 2015

Gays finally admit that they’re to blame

By Edgar Chalmers,

A leading member of the British gay community has finally admitted that gay culture is to blame for the apocalyptic floods that have ravaged the planet’s countryside in 2012.  Julius Clerihue (pictured), founding member of the group that calls itself GABAR (Gays and Bi’s and tRannies) came clean to me late last night over a Flirtini in a trendy yet sinful Manchester nightspot.  Tearfully, he leant on my shoulder and whispered to me whilst gently stroking and caressing my hair with both trepidation and lust with his strong yet tender hands making me feel young again and filling me with long-repressed feelings both new and familiar, his deep breath and mine in perfect sexual harmony – but not in a gay way, that “us gays have been planning this for a while: we know that our culture of dancing and posterior love leads to fires, floods and killer-bees but that doesn’t seem to affect us because of how fabulous we are.  The killer-bees and the fires don’t seem to happen so much either, but just think about it: why do you think it is that we all live high up in trendy city centre apartments?”

Bemused, I had to know why he was coming clean – was good Catholic guilt going to prevail?

Alas, no.

Julius was concerned because he was being evicted from his apartment due to the ownership of his two award-winning poodles, Takei and Rainbow.  Julius and his husband (or wife whatever you call these peoples’ spouses – but let’s not open up that can of worms), Leon, were about to move into a delightful little cottage just outside Sale in trendy south-Manchester, a mere two miles away from the River Mersey which may one day burst its banks and wash them away.

This writer is left a little upset by all of this, they say they’re not hurting anyone yet this proves otherwise.  Now whenever I go to bed (with my WIFE – yes, I am of course an incredibly happy man, and have no desires whatsoever for a young Chinese man to take me back to his house and cover me in tiny little kisses whilst smiling gorgeously through his beautiful eyes as his rippling pectoral muscles linger seductively near my face), I’m going to be worried that they’re looking down on me from their towers of debauchery and laughing at me whilst singing the Steps version of tragedy.

Good upstanding citizens like you and I? We’re the real victims.

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