Setting things straight

I'll never forget my first Pride. Cut adrift from the rest of my group, who'd travelled from York to London in a rented coach that stank of Gaultier Le Male and lemon-flavoured Hooch, I found myself wandering around one of the capital's bewilderingly massive parks, with no idea of where to go or what to do. Bright eyed, but decidedly flaccid of tail, I was a nineteen year-old virgin surrounded by debauchery, leather and water-based lubricant - like Shirley Temple trying to find her way out of an abattoir.

In the years that followed, I soon learned what to expect from my annual pilgrimage to the biggest day in the gay calendar. I also realised that, for all its attempts to make a political statement about equal rights, it was really just an excuse for people to get off their tits and cop a feel in the bushes (the bears in these woods weren't remotely interested in picnics), as enterprising businesses milked the 'community' like a three-handed dairy farmer.

Much has changed since those early amyl-scented days. It was a big surprise in the summer of 1997, for example, to march past Downing Street with a rousing cheer, rather than the customary boos that used to announce our arrival at the home of the Prime Minister.

But as the laws have relaxed, and rights have gradually been granted to afford the LGBT community almost equal status, a small but vocal group of opponents have continued to raise objections. Perhaps put off by the sight of one too many pairs of exposed buttocks waving from a slow-moving float, these critics have managed to convince themselves that those troublesome gays have been granted too many rights, at the expense of regular heterosexuals.

Having fixated about having an unfamiliar lifestyle rammed (repeatedly) down their throats, their over-stretched gag reflex has resulted in the erroneous opinion that they are the new underdogs. Occasionally, one of them pipes up to say "What about Straight Pride?" And although such outbursts are usually met with little more than a derisory snort, in São Paulo, they may just be getting their wish.

Despite arguing that it was not an anti-gay gesture, Councilperson Carlos Apolinario explained that the proposal for 'Straight Pride Day' was his way of speaking out at the "excesses and privileges" enjoyed by Brazil's gay population, not least the LGBT parade that takes place in the city's Paulista Avenue. If it gets ratified by Gilberto Kassab, the city's mayor, Straight Pride will be held on the third Sunday of every December and added to the city's municipal calendar.

No doubt Richard Littlejohn is already packing his jorts for a week in sunny Brazil. But if the event is a big success, he could soon be lugging his 'Adam and Eve Not Adam and Steve' banner all the way from Marble Arch to Trafalgar Square.

The thing is, I'm not entirely sure what a Straight Pride event would entail. Since gay pride has always offered up a multicoloured celebration of all the kinks and permutations that define the lifestyle, it's hard to see how that might translate into an extravagant display of conformity and convention. After all, "We're here, we're not queer, and the wife's going shopping while we stand outside Curry's and watch the football scores" doesn't have quite the same ring to it.

Pride traditionally offers up themed spaces for various subcategories - leather, sleaze, transgender etc - so presumably they'll need to work on a similar principle. Maybe they can turn the car park into a dogging area, with a specially cordoned off zone for seagulling enthusiasts sponsored by Autoglass. The main tent will need to be a monogamy space, full of couples staring fixedly at the floor to avoid getting into trouble for a spot of eye-wandering. And the kids can join in on all the fun, with specially printed T-shirts that read "Mummy and Daddy may hate each other, but they're staying together for me".

Someone will also need to think about booking some headline music acts too. And since we usually get stuck with a piss-poor line-up of clichés and stereotypes, that template will need to be followed in order to create an authentic Pride experience. If we're going to treated to Lisa Scott-Lee and whatever passes for the current line-up of Bucks Fizz, you can have a Genesis tribute act and someone who used to play bass in Status Quo. But don't worry, you'll be so pissed on over-priced, lukewarm beer, you won't be able to hear them anyway. 

It's a man-on-man's world

For decades, games programmers have struggled to develop workable artificial intelligence for the characters that inhibit their virtual worlds. It's all part of making the in-game experience that much more believable. In racing games, that means more aggressive drivers. In first-person shooters it means more stealthy snipers and assassins. And in Grand Theft Auto, it means whores who run away when they see you driving towards them with an Uzi hanging out the driver's side window.

But the gaming universe is about much more than just shooting and speeding. RPGs in particular offer an entire world to explore, and relationships to pursue. So it's only right that they make those characters more intuitive and three-dimensional.

BioWare, the makers of bestselling RPG series Dragon Age, have taken this one step further and created a number of gay characters for the latest instalment of their fantasy adventure. As you set out on your mythical quest, many of your companions flirt with you, and it's up to you how far you want to take it. Not that there's any polygonography on offer - instead, when Anders comes to your bedchamber, the cut scene pans away to a flickering candle. Even in cyberspace, we're still stuck with laboured phallic symbolism.

As sex scenes go, it's about as racy as an episode of Take The High Road. And yet it's still managed to get some hardcore gamers hot under the space where their collar would be if their necks were thin enough to wear them. One gamer in particular has bashed out an angry rant on one of the forums, taking BioWare to task for their PC agenda.

Moaning that the company has "neglected their main demographic: The Straight Male Gamer", Bastal laments the fact that "It makes things very awkward when your male companions keep making passes at you." I'd hazard a guess that this may not be his first experience of an 'awkward' social encounter, so he probably knows what he's talking about.

Even so, this must surely be the first documented case of gay panic in cyberspace. It's one thing to worry about guys hitting on you in a bar when your defences are down, but in a virtual medieval playspace? Really? Backs against the wireframe boys, this avatar's one of them. 

In fact, the game constantly offers player the chance to let their hirsute suitors down gently - after Anders tells the lead character "I never want to leave you", the three options are "I love you", "I'm hungry" and "Get out of here". It's not like players are forced to pick between "Face or chest?" and "This time you're the bottom".

The way Bastal sees it, all of this discomfort could have been easily avoided if BioWare had simply incorporated a 'No Homosexuality' option in the game's menu. Maybe he thinks it's that easy in real life too. The debate has raged for years about whether gayness is a lifestyle choice or genetically predisposed, with most people putting their money on the former. 

Since nobody gets to choose their orientation, the lack of a 'straights only' version of the Dragon Age world just gives it an extra layer of verisimilitude. Well, that and the fact that it's also full of protesting-too-much dickheads who spend far too much time imagining that every gay they encounter wants a piece of them. 

Dragon Age 2 - Anders Scene by TonyaKerrigan

More equal than others

According to dictionary.com, the word 'gay' can be taken to mean "having or showing a merry, lively mood". So I'm starting to wonder whether we appropriated the wrong adjective to describe the homosexual experience, since it seems that gays are never happy.

It doesn't seem to matter how much time someone devotes to advocating for gay rights, there are always voices within the community that pipe up to criticise or condemn. The recent fall-out over Born This Way's explicit commercialisation of gay identity shows that we're never completely satisfied. But I guess that Curmudgeon Pride doesn't have quite the same ring to it.

The latest exercise in gifthorse orthodontistry comes courtesy of Facebook's decision to add a new range of relationship status options to users' profiles. Recognising that we're a generation that simply has to share every detail of our private lives in a public forum, the new functionality adds 'civil union' and 'domestic partnership' to the existing list.

Relationships have always been a thorny issue for Facebook users - nothing has quite the same sting as seeing your one-time beloved's status updated to read "...is single", or when the object of your unrequited affection is suddenly recategorised as "...is in a relationship".

Trouble at home? Then change your profile to "It's complicated" and just wait for the apologetic emails to flood your inbox. I reckon it's only a matter of time before the list extends again to include "...is looking for a way out", "...is cheating with a colleague" and "...is only staying together until the kids are older". 

Taken at Facebook value, this new enhancement should be seen as a step forward, since it recognises the existence of committed, legally sanctioned relationships that fall outside of the realms of 'traditional' marriage. However, to some commentators, this simply highlights the 'second class status' of civil unions and domestic partnership arrangements. With the battle over definitions of marriage still raging, this simply confirms how many people feel about the prevailing lack of equality. 

For the record, I think it's a step in the right direction, even though I'm not sure how 'civil union' translates into an adjective. No-one grows up dreaming of the day they become 'civilly unionised'.

A few years back, I had to endure a painful conversation with a call-centre customer services advisor for a car insurance company. I was trying to get my partner added to the insurance policy, and although the computer programme in question allowed the operator to list me as 'living with partner', the subsequent tabs offered no option to change the gender to male. In retrospect, maybe the computer system just had trouble believing that a gay man would be seen dead behind the wheel of a Ford Focus.

As a result, the operator got very upset at the injustice of it all, regaling me with the heart-rending tale of her best friend and the problems she'd encountered when coming out. I just wanted a new quote on my policy, not the life-story of a lesbian in the North East.

Despite the changes, many happily partnered gay men and women will refuse to use the new status options, preferring to list themselves as 'married'. It's their way of making a statement about the importance of the word marriage in the fight for equality. What really matters though, is the fact that at least we now have a choice. Because isn't that what really matters, where freedom's concerned?  

Love means never having to say it with a card

With the exception of chocolatiers, restauranteurs, and greetings card sellers, does anyone actually enjoy Valentine's Day? People in committed relationships bitch about being told when they can show their affection for their significant other, and singles find themselves resenting the smug self-satisfaction of their partnered friends. For a day that's supposed to be all about spreading love and happiness, I see an awful lot of bitterness.

Ironically, given that it's considered to be the ultimate 'Hallmark' holiday, it's the Valentine's cards themselves that seem to cause the greatest amount of discontent. Take a look around your local card shop and you'll see a nauseating pink vortex, designed to showcase affectionate statements written with all the sincerity of Russell and Katy's red carpet show of solidarity.

Successful relationships are based on understanding, empathy and tolerance, not passionate declarations like "I wish you were dead so that I could fling myself onto your funeral pyre." This is real life, not a perfume ad, and it's just a shame that card designers don't seem to have the slightest grasp on how regular people interact with their loved ones. 

Even well-intentioned companies, like San Diego-based 'A Little To The Left' seem to miss the point. Founded by "Sandi Timberlake, the proud mother of a gay son", ALTTL is a socially conscious greeting card company that "offers tasteful and elegant greeting cards for the friends and family of the gay community."

The cards are certainly tasteful, although many designs seem to have sprung from the mind of a hardcore foot-fetishist. This is because Sandi wanted to create a range that was "so lovely, so simple, and so subtle that you pick them up because they are beautiful and notice later that it is a card with two women on the front or two men." In fact, it's only the occasional hair on a couple of the toes that gives anything anyway.

I can't criticise Sandi for wanting to do something positive for her family and friends, but the cards depict a kind of neutered gay life that suggests wearing matching socks is a sign of intimacy. One card tries to be cheeky, saying "It's Valentine's Day... want to spend the day with me?" alongside a picture of discarded clothes and an unmade bed. But it's unclear as to whether the sender wants to fuck or catch up on their laundry. Many hands make light work, after all.  

There's also something slightly creepy about the fact that none of the people depicted on the cards ever show their faces - as though the models were fearful of being identified. Which makes the whole endeavour seem more than a little contradictory; cards that celebrate invisible visibility. 

Maybe the moral of the story is that human emotion is too complex, too varied and too real to be summed up in a greeting card. If you love someone, it takes more than a line of verse and an image from a stock image library to express it. The good news, is that you've got all year to do it. 

He wants your sex, apparently

It's almost the end of January, but sunny days and bright evenings still feel so far away. Every day is like watching an Ingmar Bergman retrospective. In the original Swedish. It's no wonder half the country is wandering around in a fug, complaining of Seasonal Affective Disorder.

Unless, of course, they're George Michael. Having £120 million in the bank means you can afford to follow the summer around the world, so the only clouds you need ever see are the ones that occasionally form in your bong water. 

Rather than terrorising London's photo developing shops, everyone's favourite mishap-prone Greek (besides Prince Philip) is currently living it up in Sydney, where he divides his time between a rented cliff-top apartment and suites at the Park Hyatt Hotel. In the afternoons he likes to pop into The Hunky Dory Social Club for a glass of white wine, and can often be found grabbing a bite to eat at The Manta Ray restaurant. 

Whether it's the sun, the lifestyle or the countless burly truckers, something about Australia seems to agree with George. And the feeling's mutual - George is still very big down-under, as if all that distressed denim he used to wear left us in any doubt. 

I'm sorry, what was that? You don't care where George Michael stopps off for a chilled Chablis? Well somebody must. Otherwise, why else would the Daily Mail choose to run an entire article about his Australian exploits? 

Reading between the lines (few of which seem to actually connect with one another), the poorly-written story isn't really about George's recreational activities. It's just another opportunity to paint gays with a broad brushstroke, as a subspecies of sexually deviant hedonists. 

It starts out accusing a fan of posting a fake George Michael profile on 'Scruff', a networking app for guys into "bears, furred, inked, uniformed, jocks, geeks and more." This, despite the fact that the leader on the paper's homepage incorrectly states that his profile is on the "sordid site Grindr". 

Six paragraphs in, and the story changes. Now, the paper has decided that it's George himself who has created the profile, using the name 'Sydney rocks'. Another three paragraphs later, it's back to an official spokesperson for the singer, who says "We hear about stories like this all the time and they always turn out to be pranks." So is it George, or an overzealous fan? In the Mail's eyes, it doesn't really matter. 

Interestingly, the writer even makes reference to the fact that George was happy to "rub elbows with the hoi polloi" - a disingenuous statement that manages to make him sound like an aloof elitist, even as it acknowledges that that's not the case at all. And anyway, if he is on Scruff or Grindr, it's not their elbows that he's interested in rubbing. 

But who cares about things like facts and narrative, when you've got a lifestyle to disparage? It's far more important to reference George's entourage of "shrieking male pals" or the fact that he's been busy "painting Australia’s largest city pink for the last month." 

This lazily homophobic article comes as no surprise, especially from a paper which recently caricatured two gay men excluded from a Christian-run bed and breakfast as swastika-tattooed Nazis. Or that ran a Melanie Phillips column this week, lamenting the fact that "just about everything in Britain is now run according to the gay agenda." 

If there is such a thing as a gay agenda, it's been developed by mean spirited tabloid hacks to portray the gay community as a bunch of insidious, morally bankrupt "McCarthyites". They're keeping their fingers crossed that, rather than looking for evidence and reason, their readership will be willing to take it on Faith. 

With a song in my heart

When I first wrote about Glee on this blog about a year ago, none of us had any idea what a multi-media behemoth Ryan Murphy's little show would become. A 'dramedy' (no-one does word-merge like Hollywood) about a midwestern school choir didn't exactly sound like a surefire mainstream smash.

Maybe it was the fact that there was nothing like it in the schedules (repeats of High School Musical don't count), but something about this unapologetically cheesy show captured the zeitgeist in a way that no-one could have predicted. In just over twelve months, those scrappy showtune-loving misfits have managed to usurp no lesser act than the Beatles, by scoring a record 75 chart appearances in the Billboard Hot 100. Just for the record, it took Liverpool's finest 32 years to notch up 71 placings.

Perhaps the secret of Glee's appeal lies in the fact that, contrary to popular belief, it offers something for everyone. The cast are largely attractive (and cater to a wider variety of tastes), the music is well selected and slickly produced, and there's a biting seam of humour that counteracts some of the schmalz - which can sometimes leaving you feeling as though you've just munched your way through a jar of Splenda.

With America's viewers comfortably nestled in the palm of his hand (and still humming Don't Stop Believin'), Murphy is taking some bold steps to use his show as a platform for addressing a subject he feels strongly about.

Given the way that the gay bullying epidemic has dominated headlines in the US, it's reasonable to expect that many popular shows will make a timely reference to the issue, taking care to neatly resolve its characters conflicts before the end credits run (Next week - alcoholism and dog-snatching). However, Murphy has other ideas, and is planning to extend the current 'gay bullying' plotline as an arc for the whole season - with repercussions for all the characters, not just Kurt Hummel.

In last week's show, lonely young gay Kurt was taken under the benevolent and immaculately tailored wing of new mentor Blaine, as he attempted to spy on the prep school's own glee club. Given that his infiltration skills are about as subtle as James Bond in a bright red clown wig (see Octopussy for more information), he's quickly uncovered.

But the boys of  Dalton Academy see the longing in the young gayling's eyes and treat him to the most homoerotic display since Jake and Heath checked each other for ticks. The song they perform is Katy Perry's recent chart-topper 'Teenage Dream', given a nice acapella all-boys-together makeover. It's clear from the look on Kurt's face that this is one dream that's likely to cost him a fortune in laundered bed-linen.

And yet, despite the fact that this is possibly the three gayest minutes in the history of network TV, mainstream audiences have embraced it with open trousers arms. The audio version of the track is already set to become Glee's best selling song to date, shifting 200, 000 downloads in its first week on release.

As Murphy pointed out: "That’s our biggest-selling single ever in the history of the show and the fact that it’s one boy singing to another boy on a network television show and it’s a No. 1 song... is a very profound thing that I’m personally very proud of. It just shows to me that people are hungry for that."

Bold TV producers have spent years attempting to raise acceptance of homosexuality through boundary-pushing, taboo breaking depictions of the gay experience. Turns out, all they needed was a troupe of close-harmony vocalists and the Katy Perry songbook. Who knew?

PS. It wouldn't be a gay anthem without a hands-in-the-air remix, so here it is...


Glee Cast - Teenage Dream (DJ MichaelAngelo's Sing Mix)(DJ DigiMark Remix Video) from DJ DigiMark on Vimeo.

Sticks and stones

Ron Howard ought to send Henry Winkler a gift basket of muffins to say 'thanks'. Because all those years he spent living over the Cunningham's garage must have helped some of the Fonz's effortless 'cool' to rub off on his carrot-topped protege.

Where else would the mild-mannered director have found the internal fortitude to take on the Catholic church when he decided to adapt Dan Brown's turgid potboilers? But when it comes to formidable enemies, the Pope and his pals are a bunch of pussycats.

Ron's newest nemesis is the gay rights organisation GLAAD, and it's going to take more than the artful turn of a leather collar and a couple of finger snaps to cool their jets. They're furious that the trailer for Ron's new movie The Dilemma features Vince Vaughn character declaring "Electric cars are gay. I mean, not 'homosexual' gay but 'my parents are chaperoning the dance gay.'"

The controversy erupted almost instantly, prompting Universal to quickly re-edit the trailer to remove the offending remark. However, in light of the gay bullying that's dominated the news in recent weeks, many felt this was too little, too late, especially since the line will be staying in the film.

Defending the line, Vaughn commented "Comedy and joking about our differences breaks tension and brings us together. Drawing dividing lines over what we can and cannot joke about does exactly that; it divides us. Most importantly, where does it stop."

GLAAD President Jarrett Barrios told The Hollywood Reporter "Unfortunately, by leaving it in the movie, they are now contributing to the problem. The conversations started as a result of the community's response to this slur will help schools, media and parents understand the impact of the word 'gay' being used as a pejorative."

The problem with this debate is that the gay community doesn't own the 'G' word. In fact, we re-appropriated it and changed its meaning to suit our needs. So it's a little disingenuous to complain about the fact that its meaning has evolved yet again. Language is not an immutable entity, it twists and changes to reflect the society that uses it. Innit.

If we want a fairer, more equitable world, we have to support people's freedom to use words we're not always comfortable with. As Howard quite rightly stated, "I defend the right for some people to express offense at a joke as strongly as I do the right for that joke to be in a film. But if storytellers, comedians, actors and artists are strong armed into making creative changes, it will endanger comedy as both entertainment and provoker of thought."

To be fair, the joke itself even makes explicit the fact that Vaughn isn't referring to homosexuality. If 'gay' is going to be used as a pejorative, let's just find a new word to define us instead. We could even get recent Apprentice casualty Melissa Cohen to invent one for us. 

It gets better

There's a growing controversy in the States this week, as it emerged that retail giant Walmart is stocking a book by Mormon author Janice Barrett, called 'Chased By An Elephant'. Although it sounds like a book celebrating the illegal ivory trade, it's actually designed to make gay kids hate themselves a little bit more, as if they needed the help.

Subtitled 'The Gospel Truth About Today’s Stampeding Sexuality' (hence the somewhat tenuous elephant reference), the book aims to keep kids on the straight and narrow. With the emphasis on the 'straight'.

According to the foreword, "The number of our young people involved in sexual sins has greatly increased in recent years. Some of the most stalwart-seeming youth find themselves involved in pornography, fornication, promiscuity, homosexuality, and the like... This harmful exposure is evident in the lives of many young people through a variety of psychological problems including anxiety, depression, gender confusion, addictions, and even suicidality." 

Graham apparently knows what she's talking about, since she even roped her own son Graham in to write an introduction to Mommie Dearest's book. Tearing himself away from alternating bouts of furious masturbation and violent sobbing, the 'cured' homosexual claims that his faith enabled him to turn away from the “deceitful and predatory nature of the ‘gay’ lifestyle.” Which is silly, because everyone knows that you should never turn your back on a 'predatory homosexual' - that exactly what they want you to do. 

Although he may be trapped in a false existence that denies his very nature, but at least his mother's vehement abhorrence of the 'gay lifestyle' hasn't yet tipped him over the edge into what she (and the FDA) have termed 'suicidality'. 

Sadly, countless other young men and women aren't quite so lucky. The last few months have seen a disturbing wave of teenage suicides, brought about by an epidemic of homophobic bullying. Tyler Clementi, Zach Harrington, Asher Brown, Seth Walsh, Justin Aaberg, Raymond Chase, Billy Lucas and Cody J. Barker have all made the news in the States recently, by taking their own lives - leaving their despairing families wondering what they could have done to improve matters before it was too late. 

Dan Savage, the sharp-tongued but warm-hearted columnist, decided enough was enough and launched a YouTube campaign called 'It Gets Better'. Although it's only been running for a month, countless celebrities, gay and straight, have added their voices to the project - imploring kids to think twice before doing anything rash. Particularly powerful are the videos uploaded by successful gays and lesbian public figures, who are living proof that acceptance, tolerance and happiness are just around the corner. 

This week, Hillary Clinton and Barack Obama added their voices to the mix, in eloquent, thoughtful and sensitively handled pieces. However, given the US government's reticence to act on Don't Ask, Don't Tell and marriage equality, campaigners are concerned that these two prominent politicians are sending out mixed messages - 'It might get better, but don't expect any help from us'.

The real issue is the fact that these videos focus on how to overcome bullying, rather than addressing the source of the bullying. As long as religious bodies continue to fight equality, and argue that homophobia and hate-speech are their God-given rights, then kids will continue to take their own lives.

When Obama tells young people that there are "people out there who care about you and love you just the way you are" he forgets that, in many cases, the parents he has in mind are the worst bullies of all. Parents like Janice Barrett. And sure, kids could go to their teachers if they're being bullied, as long as they don't expect the teacher to be able to show any kind of familiarity or empathy with the situation. After all, Seth Stambaugh in Oregon was fired for explaining to a student that he was gay and therefore unable to marry.

Savage's campaign is a fantastic initiative, and has dovetailed nicely with similar campaigns such as the Trevor Project and GLAAD's Spirit Day on 20th October. Gay kids need to know that it really does get better. But in order for them to believe it, the rest of society has to do its bit in order to keep that promise.

We're not in Kansas anymore Toto

Ah, San Francisco. Where Tony Bennett left his heart, and the gays, their underwear. This morning we had a later start than usual, thanks to our gradual acclimatisation to the time difference. So we sat in the Castro to enjoy a fresh orange juice in the warm morning sun. An off-duty drag queen sat darning a costume, happy hand-holding couples strolled up the street with their tiny, overdressed dogs, and an old bear sat in the middle of it all as naked as the day he was born (although, I imagine, significantly more tumescent).

Having gotten the hang of the muni transit system, we decided that today would involve less walking than the previous day. Admittedly, we did overdo it a little, with a packed agenda that would have a triathlete breathing into a paper bag. As if the miles and miles of hillwalking wasn't enough, we even rented bikes and cycled along the sea front, then across the Golden Gate bridge. The official guide suggested that we keep going all the way to Sausalito, but I sensed that Doug's patience was growing as thin as the soles of his overworked shoes. Thankfully, most of the return journey was downhill, and unencumbered by the crowds of gormless tourists that had plagued our outbound slog.

It's Fleet Week in San Francisco, which means that the city is awash with seamen (steady on) as all the naval ships come to the city and give their crews shore leave for a few days. It's a uniform fetishist's idea of heaven.

We watched the airshow from a cafe by the water, and marvelled at how impossible it is to deduce the cost of a meal based on the prices in a menu. Aside from constantly attempting to calculate the equivalent price in sterling, there's the sales tax to think of. Then there's the tip, which here in the US is supposed to be between 15 and 25% of your total bill. On top of that, we discovered a new surcharge called the 'Healthy San Francisco' charge - this was a new scheme introduced by the city's mayor to force bars and restaurants to pay for healthcare for food service professionals. Which is all very commendable, but it does mean that the bill can sometimes run to several pages.

We took the opportunity to have a good mosey around the Castro area, which has a pretty good selection of bars, restaurants and shops. There are some great store names as well, from the 'Squat and Gobble Creperie' to 'The Sausage Factory' pizzeria. Oh, and don't forget the 'Hand Job Nail Spa'. When it comes to naming your business, the smuttier the better. Surely it won't be too long before they stop trying to be funny, and just go for all-out rudeness. Meet you at the 'Fuck Me Harder Pattiserie'.

Where was I? Oh, that's right, shopping. Having marvelled at the extraordinary variety of items available that can be inserted into the human body (not to mention the eye-watering size of them) we moved on to a more mainstream shopping experience.

I was looking for some kind of light walking shoe, and ended up buying a bizarre pair of Vibram FiveFingers. I know that sounds more like something you'd buy in one of the afore-mentioned sex shops, but I promise they're entirely legitimate footwear. They're like clingy, rubberised gloves for your feet and apparently change your entire posture and walking style by "emulating the sensation of being barefoot". I could have just taken my regular shoes off and saved myself a hundred dollars, but figured 'what the hell'. Then I looked down and thought 'what the hell?' From the ankle down I look like an Afro-Carribean hobbit. I'm impressed so far, but no doubt I'll change my mind when I awake in the night with crippling back-ache.

Blame it on the salesman. Unlike a British shop assistant who'd struggle to muster the energy to tut in my direction, the sales people here are so incredibly friendly, you almost feel like buying something out of gratitude. They greet you on your way in, they thank you for your visit when you leave, and they know everything there is to know about every item in stock. Anyone who works in the service industry should be forced to visit the US for a couple of days as part of their induction programme. As a consequence of all this 'super awesome' service, my bank manager and I will be forced to sit down and have a frank conversation when I get back to the UK.

How gay is 'too gay'?

When it comes to generating news headlines, nothing works quite like a 'furious debate'. It suggests heated arguments, the passionate exchange of views and an oppportunuty for the news organisation in question to demonstrate its objectivity and balance.

At least, that's how it's supposed to work. Unfortunately, in the search for easy content and stories that write themselves, the 'debate' is engineered after the fact. The news team invent a topic, choose and inflammatory angle, and then go looking for talking heads to either support their view or shoot it down.

Which is how CNN came to run a story this week entitled "Is The Surge of Gay Characters on TV Sending the Wrong Message?" Filled with ugly rhetoric that makes it sound as though America's moral foundations are being attacked by a well-groomed sleeper-cell of catty best friends, the story wasted no time engaging the services of Dan Gainor, VP of the Culture and Media Institute.

This conservative action group, which pompously pronounces its mission of 'Advancing Truth and Virtue in the Public Square', believes that mainstream TV is 'promoting the homosexual lifestyle' and that can only be "bad for American society". I've never understood the whole concept of promoting a 'gay lifestyle' as though it's referring to an exclusive retirement village on the Florida coast.

Gainor believes that TV shows are "normalising something which a lot of people don't want to see normalised". Which is the 'la la la I'm not listening' approach to a progressive society. His views are then followed by interview footage of a handsome gay couple with their twin kids, talking about the value of visibility and representation. But for some reason, known only to the editorial team, the clip has been artificially aged, giving the sinister impression that the film was found in the flooded basement of a serial killer.

CNN's 'objective position' is also hampered by the fact that its reporters keep pointing out that people like Chris Colfer and Jane Lynch are 'openly gay in real life' with a disbelieving tone that makes it sound like the two actors also regularly release flocks of doves form their sleeves.

The weakest element of the whole story, besides the fact that anyone saw fit to commission it in the first place, is that the whole point of the item is undermined by the final segment.

In its annual audit of the major TV networks, GLAAD assesses the treatment and representation of LGBT characters and personalities - this year finding that there was still a long way for many of the networks to go before they could consider themselves fully inclusive. And yet CNN references this study, even pointing out how several of the networks had scored pitiful ratings. So where on earth did they come up with the idea that there's been a surge of gay characters, when CBS currently doesn't have a single one on any of its shows.

I guess it's too much to hope that a little common sense and professional integrity might one day "invade" TV news coverage.

Mind your language

It was all over the news this week, when an Australian teacher decided to redraft the lyrics of one his country's best loved songs. Thanks to Principal Garry Martin's delicate sensibilities, the kids at Cheltenham’s Lepage primary school in Victoria found themselves singing about rather less merry kookaburra.

Martin was concerned that the little 'uns might find singing about the 'gay' life of the native Australian fauna might encourage use of the word which is being increasingly used as a one-size-fits-all pejorative. So he changed the lyrics of 'Kookaburra Sits In The Old Gum Tree' to "How fun your life must be".

Media reactions were depressingly predictable, although at least the Herald Sun, which originally broke the story, allowed Martin to comment on his actions: “It was my decision to replace it. I guess that was hypersensitive of me. Political correctness is to the fore in schools – what’s appropriate and what isn’t – and sometimes we rightly or wrongly err on the side of caution.”

But this awkwardness around which words are or aren't acceptable is becoming increasingly common. According to a story carried by the Associated Press, a Microsoft Xbox gamer from West Virginia found his online privileges suspended because his registered address was a small town called Fort Gay.

Microsoft's 'slang engines' had added the word 'gay' to their code of conduct regarding offensive language. It's just a good job that the would-be player wasn't logging on from Cockermouth.

Given this knee-jerk reaction to any kind of terminology that may cause upset, it's great to see that some musicians are happy to keep challenging our understanding of the power of language. The latest star to open up the dialogue is heavyweight singer Cee Lo Green - best known as the voice behind Gnarls Barkley and their chart-conquering Crazy. His new song 'Fuck You' looks set to provoke, offend and entertain in equal measure.

Weirdly, it sounds like a peppy, perky sixties finger snapper, and even has a video that pays unofficial tribute to Little Shop of Horrors with its 'sixties girlgroup as Greek chorus' motif. And yet its decidedly adult lyrics seem to deliberately jar with the frothy, upbeat nature of the melody and production. Funnily enough, it's almost exactly the same effect as Lily Allen accomplished last year, with an identically titled song aimed at George W Bush.

It's hard to feel offended when a song is so catchy and engaging - which throws up an interesting question about whether context is important in causing offence. It's all so confusing, it almost makes me long for a more innocent time, when Frankie Goes To Hollywood found themselves banned by Radio One for 'Relax'. Even though the song itself now sounds about as offensive as the minutes of a WI meeting.

Greased, frightening

If there's one sure-fire way of guaranteeing yourself some front-page coverage, it's to get yourself involved in a 'gay sex scandal'. The lies, the deceit, the unflattering photos of you in an outfit you're twenty years too old for - it's the stuff that tabloid dreams are made of.

Here in the UK, the papers are falling over themselves to dig into William Hague's private life, as they delight in the fact that he appointed a 25-year old pretty boy as his 'special advisor' and that they often shared a room on the election trail.

There's something about the inherent hypocrisy of Conservative politicians preaching 'traditional values' Monday to Friday and spending their weekends in a leather sling that we just can't get enough of. In fact, the only thing we enjoy more than the tremulous quiver of a stiff upper-lip is the idea that some of our favourite alpha-male movie stars might be good with colours.

So let's hear it for John Travolta, who's managed to keep professional gossips in business for three decades now, with his less-than convincing portrayal of an avowedly heterosexual man. He's currently the subject of a 'shocking' expose that threatens to lift the toupee on his deceitful double life.

According to the National Enquirer, an author called Robert Randolph is lining up a new book for release, which promises to reveal the "underground secret world of celebrity gay spa sex" in Hollywood, the main target of which is the Saturday Night Fever and Pulp Fiction actor. Randolph maintains that he's come across (not literally, that would be tacky) the Hollywood star in his favourite bath-house on a number of occasions.

Ignoring for a second the tautology of an 'underground secret', it's hard to believe that Robert could ever score a book deal, when his revelations read like a thirteen year-old's bathroom wall grafitti - "I met John in 1998, after he had married Kelly. I believe the marriage is a total fraud because John is totally into guys and has been having sex with them behind Kelly's back for years." Time to start brushing up on that Pulitzer acceptance speech. Totally.

Equally depressing is the fact that the Enquirer considers news of John's man-on-man infidelity worthy of a 'scandal' headline. Even Randolph himself admits that John's "secret gay life is one of Hollywood's worst kept secrets". Surely the purpose of a shocking story is to surprise readers with things they don't already know?

It also doesn't help matters that Randolph attempts to empathise with Travolta's put-upon and pregnant wife Kelly Preston, saying "John should come out of the closet already and stop living a lie. His wife Kelly deserves so much better." He's clearly never heard of an arranged marriage, a beard or a pre-nup.

If John's sexuality is such an open secret, it's hard to believe that Kelly would be the last to know. She might not be the one that he wants, but I'm sure the benefits of their union work both ways.

The spy who came out in the cold

If your feet are feeling a little chilly, don't worry - it's not diabetes taking its toll on your circulation. It's just that hell appears to have suddenly frozen over.

So what bizarre circumstance could possibly have initiated such shocking subterranean climate change? Well, I'm sorry to report that I find myself in agreement with a column written by the usually detestable Melanie Phillips in today's Daily Mail.

Like many people, she's aghast at the way GCHQ code-breaker Gareth Williams' death has been spun by MI6. Salacious suggestions about rent boys, cross-dressing and sex games lent a suitably seedy frisson to the investigation, despite the fact that the police renounced all these claims over the weekend.

With the Bond series mothballed due to the financial crisis faced by MGM, and no sign of a new Bourne movie on the horizon, the press rubbed their hands in glee at the prospect of a real-life espionage thriller unfolding before their beady eyes. A dead spy, code-breaking, £18k disappearing from a secret bank account - who needs the movies when shit like this is happening in real life?

So without a thought for veracity or fact-checking, the media thoughtlessly revelled in every speculative claim and distasteful detail. But the real mystery at the heart of this unfortunate story is why MI6 thought it was acceptable to misdirect the public, by sullying William's name with a bunch of sleazy and (it seems) entirely misleading claims about his "very, very private" life. Surely, the whole point of being a spy is that you live your life under the radar?

Melanie is rightfully indignant about the way this whole story has been handled, arguing "...shadowy unnamed sources started putting it about that 'bondage equipment and gay paraphernalia' were found in his flat.The implication was that his death was caused by some seedy sadomasochistic practice that went wrong. At a stroke, Mr Williams's reputation was trashed - transforming him from an unsung hero of his nation into the sordid author of his own terminal misfortune."

Of course, the Daily Mail loves nothing more than idly speculating about gays who succumb to terminal misfortune, but not when they dedicate their lives to defeating the Taliban. Or at least, that's the way Melanie sees it.

The problem is, although MI6 thought that it was perfectly acceptable to invent a gay scandal to throw the press off the scent of a story with implications on national security, the papers were more than willing to take the bait. And the Daily Mail was one of the first to go to print with its own tawdry rumour-mongering.

Melanie can wring her hands and bemoan MI6's insensitivity in causing "further and needless distress to the dead man's bereaved parents". But she has to acknowledge her own employers' complicity in the cover-up.

So even though I might agree with Melanie's disgust at the way GCHQ has attempted to smear the reputation of one of its most promising agents (with a lifestyle that, in itself, is nothing to be ashamed of) I can't help but recognise the age-old hypocrisy that lies at the heart of so much of the Mail's editorial position.

So the Daily Mail got it wrong again after all. Maybe that means that all is right with the world? Well, except for the fact that someone's out there murdering spies.

A different kind of cut-back

If you live in a shabby, run-down area of town, there are two sure-fire signs that things are improving and property prices are on the up. The first is known in real estate circles as 'The Starbucks Effect' - once the venti-sized coffee giant invests in your locality, the trendy prospective buyers will come flocking.

But don't worry if you still have to buy your mocha frapuccino in an unbranded polystyrene cup, because option two is even more commonplace. All you need is a few gays in your neighbourhood to get property values soaring.

For the last 15 years or so, homo-owners have been carefully gentrifying areas, one street at a time. Before you know it, that crack den next door will have repointed brick-work, cafe-style window shutters and charmingly coordinated window boxes. And there'll be a waiting list for available properties in the area.

Funnily enough, it seems that the gays' love of a tidy frontage isn't limited to property façades either. They can also be found cutting back their own personal undergrowth, like Edward Nail-Scissorhands.

Don't forget, it was gay men who introduced the world to the concept of manscaping, arguing that extensive thatching should be limited to rustic farmhouses in the Cotswolds. As a result, bodily depilation is becoming increasingly popular in the straight world.

Writing for Salon.com, Jed Lipinksi has investigated this new phenomenon, even going so far as to invest in a 'Manzilian'. As he immerses himself in hot wax and the world of the 'aesthetician' - he takes an anthropological approach to getting under the pink, inflamed skin of the topic.

If he wants to know about the appeal of hair removal, he didn't need to be quite so thorough. He could have just pointed out that you have to trim back the lawn if you want people to see the garden path. But that would have left him a few hundred words short.

In the process of writing his article, Jed discovered that straight men make some bizarre requests of their pubic topiary technicians. According to Jane Pham of the Ted D. Bare Salon in San Jose, "Men tend to want the oddest pubic hair shaping. One guy asked me for a blue whale design. Another wanted me to shave the words 'Campbell Soup' into his pubes, because his girlfriend liked Campbell Soup."

Somewhere in Heaven's version of Studio 54, Andy Warhol is kicking himself for not thinking of that.

Hardy by name...

Speculation about an actor's sexuality is so commonplace, it's now a mandatory part of the career trajectory for any young man in the performing arts. From the moment someone first catches a casting director's eye, they're likely to be subjected to feverish speculation on every film-based message board.

But every once in a very long while, along comes an actor who isn't just prepared for the question, he's thought about his answer and decided to plump for honesty over obfuscation.

When country rock singer Vanessa Carlton and actress Anna Paquin recently announced their bisexuality to the world, pop culture commentators carped that it was easier for women. A little shock, a little titillation, and no harm done. It certainly didn't seem to hurt Angelina Jolie's career when she revealed that she'd munched some muffin in her time.

So what should we make of Tom Hardy's revelation this week that he's happy to embrace his gay side, not to mention other men's? OK, so maybe the tense is a little off - he did specify that this was a phase in his past. But his refreshing openness about sex with other men is still pretty encouraging.

Asked if he'd ever done the nasty with guys, the pretty pouter said "Of course I have. I'm an actor for fuck's sake. I've played with everything and everyone. I love the form and the physicality, but now that I'm in my thirties, it doesn't do it for me."

But have-a-go-homos shouldn't lose heart about the fact that he's now happily engaged to actress Charlotte Riley. As Tom says, "I'm done experimenting but there's plenty of stuff in a relationship with another man, especially gay men, that I need in my life. A lot of gay men get my thing for shoes. I have definite feminine qualities and a lot of gay men are incredibly masculine."

So there you go - you might not get to suck on those bee-stung lips of his, but you can happily while away an afternoon with him in Schuh.

And if Tom decides to fully embrace his 'feminine qualities' there's a new TV show in development where he can make his big announcement. Created by publicist Howard Bragman, 'Coming Out' while be a documentary-style show that will follow celebrities as they take their first tentative steps out of the showbiz closet.

It remains to be seen which celebrities will be willing to make a potentially career-defining declaration on an A&E reality show. If the whole point is that 'it's no big deal' - building a whole show around what a big deal it is might be counter productive. In the meantime, we can all start placing our bets on who's likely to appear. Time to hit those message boards then...

I think I'm turning Lebanese

Men have it so easy. For most, the mid-life crisis amounts to little more than filling out the financing form for a new car or trying to hit on the office secretary. According to a new study, to be shared with the American Psychological Association in August, women have a much tougher time as they approach middle age. Rather than pricing up a Porsche Boxster, they seem to spend their time balancing hot flashes with a spontaneous change of sexuality.

The dating market is currently being flooded with with 'late-blooming lesbians' - women whose only previous brush with sapphic sensuality was occasionally hearing 'Constant Craving' on Radio 2. Suddenly, and without warning, they're strapping on (steady now) some sensible shoes and putting up their own shelves with a same-sex partner, leaving emasculated (but probably turned-on) ex-husbands in their wake.

As with most news stories, it helps that there are some celebrities who can be held up as examples - in this case Sex and the City's Cynthia Nixon and Mary Portas, Queen of Shops. Despite being entirely heterosexual throughout adulthood, they both decided in their forties that their furry cups runneth over.

As you'd expect, the coverage of this 'phenomenon' is suitably melodramatic - lots of references to illicit liaisons, bullied children and "irrevocable damage" caused to relationships. The Mail, in particular, makes repeated reference to the women's "devastated husband[s] and utterly bewildered children".

One husband in particular lashes out at his ex-wife, saying "I can only describe her actions then as incredibly selfish, because she put herself and her feelings first. Overnight I was left on my own with two impressionable young boys, who were totally bewildered and terribly upset, having to explain where their mother was." Of course, it's easy to overlook how often men put their wives in similar situations when they run of with younger women, but lesbianism makes for a convenient bogeyman.

Thankfully though, all the lesbians featured in the story are happy and contented with their new sexual identity, and have generally been able to repair the rifts with their families. What's more interesting is the question that this situation throws up regarding the fluid nature of human sexuality.

Gay rights advocates have always been keen to prove that sexuality is pre-determined. So the idea that a woman can choose to switch sexuality, the way she might bring out the summer wardrobe when the weather improves, makes for a troubling twist in the tale. Does the fact that women can 'select' their sexuality mean that it's a lifestyle choice, rather than a genetically programmed quirk of nature?

Dr Ceri Parsons of Staffordshire University believes that it's not as simple as that: "Generally people are more aware of lesbianism - so while it appears that there is an upsurge in lesbian relationships when actually it might simply be the case that they are just more visible. Historically psychologists have tried to pigeonhole people as homosexual or heterosexual but these categories are highly inadequate. Sexual preferences aren't always set in stone."

For the foreseeable future, experts will continue to compile reports, analyze statistics and test hypotheses to see if they can find the definitive answer. But they miss the point - finding happiness is what really counts. The only thing, in fact.

How very dare they?

There's been a bit of a kerfuffle in TV land this week, as gay rights group Stonewall has conducted a study into the depiction of the LGBT (fries on the side) community. According to Stonewall's less-than-scientific-sounding investigation, 36% of lesbian, gay and bisexual people were portrayed in what the group considered to be a negative light.

Ben Summerskill, Stonewall's chief executive, claimed "It's hardly surprising that there's still almost endemic homophobic bullying... when, even if gay people do appear on TV shows... they're depicted in a derogatory or demeaning way."

But what constitutes a 'derogatory or demeaning' depiction? Writing in the Mail, Andrew Pierce blames the show which portray gays as "promiscuous, predatory or figures of fun" and laments the lost innocence of a time when homosexuality was still illegal.

Considering he claims to be a proud gay man, Pierce doesn't seem entirely comfortable with matters of gayness. In the space of a few paragraphs, this tediously self-loathing prig bullies his way through Graham Norton (too mincey), Gok Wan (too campy), Julian Clary (too fisty), Paul O'Grady (too draggy), Alan Carr (too lispy) and Louis Spence (too Louis).

Andrew prefers gays who follow the football and "worry... about the state of the economy". Confirming every ill-informed stereotype he claims to abhor, he proudly states "None of my gay friends is effeminate, speaks in high-pitched voices, frets endlessly about what to wear, listens only to songs from musical shows, and has dogs which you can fit into handbags."

Ironically enough, Andrew represents one of the biggest, and most irritating gay stereotypes of all - the 'straight-acting gay'. They seem to think that their 'faux macho' drag act differentiates them from the limp-wristed masses. What none of them seem to realise is that their self-definition is a contradiction in terms. If you like cock - you're not acting very straight at all.

But it's not just the Daily Mail that has its manly, shapeless boxers in a twist over this report. The BBC also weighed in on the debate, asking Radio Times TV critic Gareth McLean to share his thoughts about gay characters in soaps.

McLean assesses the situation by lamenting the fact that most representations of gay people occur in soap operas, since their characters tend to be "perpetually suffering or miserable". But don't the same rules apply for everyone in soaps? I haven't seen anyone crack a smile in Albert Square since Anita Dobson was hovering under the optics.

His argument is further weakened by the fact that the gay characters currently appearing in UK soaps suggest a diverse, realistic and compelling representation of gay life. There's the conflicted Muslim, the beefy gym bunny, the camp factory worker, the self-loathing closet-case and the stroppy lesbian. Interestingly, at least two of these five characters here are played by out gay actors, adding an extra layer of authenticity.

There's no denying that Stonewall's Unseen on Screen report is a well-intentioned piece of research. But the demand for 'positive' portrayals of LGBT characters is disingenuous at best. Hollywood may like its gays pithy and sexless, but the world is more complicated than that. Gays can be cruel, judgemental, slutty, irresponsible, angry, shallow, bitter, fun-loving, kind-hearted and even badly dressed.

We should be less concerned with positive portrayals of the gay community, and more interested in authenticity. And that's going to involve x-ray specs, not rose-tinted glasses.

Man-sized appetite

You know how it is - your stomach's as empty as Alex Reid's brainpan and you happen to wander past the window of a local patisserie. Peering in at the goodies on display, you spy a spectacular arrangement of little cakes, covered in butter icing, sprinkles and other assorted decorative goodies.

But something stops you from going in. There's something just a little too feminine about cupcakes - so you keep on walking and buy a kebab instead. With extra chilli sauce, just to ensure that no-one questions your masculinity. Once you get home, you quietly gulp down the slimy slices of reformed mutton, stifling your sobs and quietly cursing the unspoken judgement of others.

OK, so maybe you don't know how it is. Perhaps that's a rather melodramatic take on the situation. But there must be something in that scenario, otherwise Sky News wouldn't have felt the need to cover the story of the Butch Bakery - which makes 'manly cakes for manly men'.

Founded by a former 'asset backed securities attorney' called David Arrick, the bakery was intended to combine a masculine aesthetic with a traditionally cute product. David was apparently incensed by a magazine article that claimed cupcakes represented everything "pink, sweet, cute, and magical" and decided that his favourite foodstuff needed butching up.

So he set about creating a range of mouthwatering treats that tough guys could proudly enjoy on the building site, the football pitch or in the dark room. He may have designed his cupcakes to be 'manly' but the fact is, they're even gayer than the traditional pink, sparkly variety.

With names like The Campout, Big Papi, Driller and Jackhammer, David's baked goodies sound like the kind of movies you can only pick up in 'specialist' stores. It's all trying just a little too hard to be masculine - from the steel-plate logo to the camouflage disc on top of the B52. It's almost as though he designed the cakes according to his favourite bar's nightly dress code.

In the gay world, butch is just another form of drag. A chance to dress up in costume and act out a fantasy. And that's precisely what these cakes represent. Sure, you can fill a gift box with beer-infused buttercream and 'crumbled bacon' toppings - but straight men just don't get excited about ganache. From my experience, they don't use the word 'butch' either, unless they're talking about the bulldog in those old Tom & Jerry cartoons.

Although David has been receiving orders from as far afield as Australia, the majority of his business is local - the website proudly declares that it delivers to Queens*. No surprise there then...

*as well as Greater Manhattan, New York and Brooklyn.

Boys will be boys

Writing a blog is a funny old business. Night after night I sit at my laptop, searching for inspiration and sharing my thoughts on all kinds of pointless ephemera. Although I find writing to be cathartic, my enthusiasm is always tempered by the need to provide readers with something engaging or enjoyable.

I imagine that's how writers of slash fiction must feel too - balancing the need for creative expression with the desire to produce something that others will enjoy. If you haven't read slash fiction before, you should give it a go next time you feel like you need a dose of badly-written porn featuring some of your favourite TV or movie characters.

Frustrated that the sexual chemistry you picked up on in that movie wasn't fully explored? Simply write your own version where Robocop and Lewis make the beast with two hard-drives. Or create the scenes where we find out exactly what Iceman meant by that whole 'wingman' offer.

Given the level of devotion needed to write 'expanded universe' material, slash fiction tends to originate around cult properties. For instance, there must be thousands of stories out there about how Spock and Kirk spent those lonely nights stranded on lonely planets.

Unsurprisingly, Twilight has also spawned its fair share of imaginative fans with their own unique take on the Bella-Edward-Jacob love triangle. The archive on FanFiction.net currently lists over 154810 stories (many of which are probably better than anything Stephenie Meyer could conjure up).

Since the Twilight series is one long metaphor for abstinence, it's interesting to see the sexual frustration spilling out from the franchise's fanbase. They may be happy watching Kristen Stewart chewing her lips over a chaste kiss with the sparkly vampire, but when it comes down to it, they're more interested in what goes on between the two supernatural men in her pre-afterlife.

Now, it seems, these wannabe writers don't have to imagine any more, since Robert Pattinson is more than happy to fill in the gaps. In an interview with Now! magazine, the bequiffed boy wonder discussed the shooting of a tent scene between him and fillet-steak-with-hair Taylor Lautner.

"I liked the tent scene because I have to grab Taylor’s chest and his nipples get hard really easily. We had to re-shoot the scene basically for that reason!" And I can imagine just how many times they needed to zoom in for a close-up. You know, just in case there was a problem with the tape. Or the lighting was bad. Something tells me the B-roll footage would sell better than the actual movie when it hits DVD.

Robert seems to enjoy the homoeroticism that comes from tusssling with a constantly shirtless slab of beefcake - adding "It seems like I’m always picking on Taylor, but the funniest moment was when he was in this little grey Spandex suit he sometimes had to wear for the CGI. Taylor quite frequently out-mans me, so seeing him in that little Spandex outfit made me feel much better about myself. He looked great in it, though. Very sexy!"

The Twilight series has made over a billion dollars off the back of a load of sexual frustration and unconsummated relationships. So don't be surprised if Stephanie Meyer takes the logical step of resurrecting her best-selling series, and creates a fifth volume where Bella realises she's Forks' first fag-hag. Jacob and Edward buy a condo overlooking the river, Bella moves in next door and spends the next thirty years lusting over the men she'll never have. Truth is stranger than fiction.

The burden of proof

It's widely known that the Daily Express is to journalism what litter trays are to cat shit. But even the foaming-at-the-mouth tabloid's biggest critics were amazed at the front cover of the 'world's greatest newspaper' today.

With no Princess Diana stories to run on page one, the editorial team decided to focus on their other obsession - immigration. It was announced this week that two asylum seekers from Cameroon and Iran had been granted the right to remain in the UK for fear of persecution, violence or imprisonment if they were sent home.

Whereas most people with any kind of basic interest in human rights applauded the decision, the Daily Express took a contrary viewpoint. Choosing to sub-head the article with a direct quote from Lord Rodgers, they stated "They should be free to enjoy themselves going to Kylie concerts and drinking exotically coloured cocktails."


The issue of asylum for gay people has long been a contentious one, with previous judges claiming that homosexuals could be returned to their country of origin with the instruction to 'act a bit straighter'. Imagine a similar argument being applied to people of colour, or those suffering from religious persecution. In the days of the Spanish Inquisition, Jewish people attempted to hide their faith and were still burned at the stake as 'conversos'. Perhaps that's what the Express would prefer.

As they write in their coverage of the story, "critics warned it could lead to the UK - which is among the first nations to take such a position - becoming a leading destination for asylum seekers who are claiming to be gay." Unfortunately, these critics amount to little more than the usual suspects - a Tory MP and the chairman of MigrationWatchUK, who must be the paper's number one friend on Facebook.

They're concerned that anyone could claim asylum on the grounds that they're gay and, according to Lord Rodgers at least, all it would take is a tight t-shirt, the deluxe edition of Aphrodite on their iPod, and the mixology skills to pour a Cosmopolitan, to make their case.

Curiously, the Daily Mail's coverage of the story is almost a word-for-word facsimile of the article that appeared in their rival publication, implying that the whole piece is just a MigrationWatch press release with the logo removed. If we're going to be disgusted about something, maybe it should be the rapid decline of journalistic standards, rather than the idea that next year's Pride March may have a few extra participants.