Dry a little tenderness

If you cast your mind back to student life, you'll remember the unpleasant experience of sharing a flat with a bunch of people who had varying levels of commitment to personal hygeine. There's nothing worse than finding your toothbrush lodged in the soapdish, or reaching for a cereal bowl to discover remnants of yesterday's porridge.

But as disgusting as those incidents are, for my money there's nothing worse than slowly realising that someone else has used your bath-towel. It's bad enough that it's damp and smells of someone else's shower-gel. But the really worrying thing is that you're unsure as to which bits of towel touched which random body parts.

That's the underlying psychosis that must have informed the creation of the 'True Clean Towel' - a cleverly designed bath sheet that gives a clear indication of which area of the towel is intended for which area of skin. Drying your face? Then you should be using the section clearly labelled 'top'. And if you're looking to demoisturise your nether regions, then there's an area called 'bottom' with your name on it (not literally).

Weirdly though, this is a towel aimed at single-occupancy households - for people who can't bear to come into contact with their own body parts. And the online ad makes that perfectly clear, with a male model attempting to dry himself with a giant pair of bollocks. 

Try watching this guy teabagging his own face with a massive set of pods - it's like shower time after a rugby match. There's even a particularly authentic moment when he plucks an errant pube from his mouth, as if to demonstrate the real dangers of indiscriminate towel usage. 

At first, the ad is pretty funny, before taking a turn towards the nauseating - like a Little Britain sketch thrown out for being too distasteful. As if that would ever happen.

If you're irrationally afraid of your own perianal scent, then you know what to ask Santa for this Christmas. And as long as he's not busy terrorising the villages of Finland, he may well deliver.

Heroes and villains

A friend pointed out to me today that, just lately, p0pvulture has taken on a more serious tone. It's nothing intentional, I can assure you. But I guess there are only so many ways you can write about Gillian McKeith having a case of the vapours every time she sees a spider.

And with the X-Factor still a long, painful month away from its depressingly inevitable conclusion, it's important to take a look around and remember everything else that's going on in the world. So if you visit p0pvulture for a daily dose of mindless ephemera, I can only apologise if this all seems a little tub-thumpy.

Sadly, we're in the midst of a culture war, and it's affecting people's lives on both sides of the Atlantic. So today, I thought I'd give the Daily Mail a day off and take a look at what's going on across the pond, to see how the two different sides are aligning themselves now that the post-election dust has settled.

Although immigration and the ongoing economic crisis continue to be politically-charged topics of contention in the States, the most incendiary subject still seems to be gay bullying and its ramifications. Now, I don't expect everyone to agree with my perspective on the issue, and it would be a very dull world if you did (although, if you're a regular reader of this blog my angle will probably come as no surprise). However, I defy anyone not to be equal parts disgusted and inspired by the following two video clips.

In one corner, we have the staunchly right wing lobbying group, the American Family Association. They're up in arms about the gay agenda exercising its political muscle, in order to dictate hospital policy across the U.S. Despite the fact that these bigoted blowhards continually profess to have no ill-will towards gay people themselves ('love the sinner, hate the sin' and all that), it's hard to view their reaction to this change in the law as anything other than reprehensible.

You might not realise this, but currently, gay patients in intensive care can only be visited by next-of-kin. And since the law doesn't recognise same-sex life-partners as NOK, hospital staff are allowed to bar long-term partners from visiting their loved ones. And that's the way the AFA would like it to stay.

It all sounds perfectly Christian to me - demanding that critically ill patients breathe their last breath in an empty hospital room, whilst their grief-stricken significant others sit sobbing in a waiting room. They must know how intollerably heartless that sounds, so they've issued carefully planned talking points to make it clear that this isn't about hate. It's about unnecessary 'dictats' from the Government.



The talking heads in this video claim that they've never been barred from visiting a patient (although they carefully gloss over the restricted access to the ICU). But then, they've never tried to visit their same-sex partner in a religiously-affiliated hospital either. It's much easier to reject the concept of discrimination if you've never experienced it first-hand.  

Thankfully, there's a glimmer of hope out there. And it comes in the form of a preternaturally mature fourteen year-old called Graeme Taylor. This frighteningly articulate child hit the news recently, when he attended a school board hearing to speak out in defence of his teacher. The educator in question had been suspended for removing two students from his class, after an outburst of homophobic abuse.

Despite the widespread bullying and discriminatory rhetoric currently tainting American political discourse, this kid had the courage to not only come out at thirteen, but eloquently defend Jay McDowell and demand that he be reinstated. It's no wonder then that Ellen deGeneres wanted him on her show to tell his side of the story.

Hopefully, this video will be seen by as many people as the ongoing 'It Gets Better' campaign - it certainly can't hurt. This is the best three minutes you'll spend all day...

The battle lines are clearly drawn. And I know which side I'm proud to be on...

Tomorrow - probably some cheap cock jokes and Katie Price. 

You gotta have fai-fai-fai-fai-faith

An unusual alliance seems to have formed between the BBC and the Daily Mail this week, as the former has inadvertently added fuel to the latter’s ongoing fire again the Islamification of Britain. A new Panorama documentary due to screen tonight aims to expose how thousands of Muslim children are being educated in the fundamentals of Sharia law in ‘weekend schools’ across Britain.

All told there are around 40 of these schools, which are currently teaching the Saudi national curriculum. And since they’re part-time, weekend-only institutions, they fall outside of Ofsted’s remit. This means that the kids are free to learn about the sins of sodomy, the severing of thieves’ hands as punishment for theft, and the dangers posed by the Zionist plot to take over the world. Well, I suppose it’s more interesting than studying cross-sections of tundra soil anyway.

Unfortunately, as one might expect, the Mail’s coverage tends to fixate on the ‘otherness’ of the teachings, making clear their distaste for the indoctrination of children into profoundly non-British protocols. In fact, the real danger posed by schools like these, is highlighted in a throw-away quote at the end of the article.

Taken from a report by Conservative think tank ‘Policy Exchange’, the statement reads “The Government’s policy of opening up the education system to new academies and free schools programmes could be exploited unless urgent measures are taken to counter extremist influence.” Notice that this relates to all faith schools, and not just the ones that happen to observe Ramadan.

And given the Mail’s disdain for the Saudi curriculum, let’s take another look at the shocking subject matter being shared with impressionable Muslim youths. The notion of a Zionist plot to take over the world is both offensive and ridiculous. But not so far removed than the Mail’s own preaching about the Islamification of the west. It’s also hard to see how many of the Mail’s “hanging’s too good for ‘em” readers will be particularly upset by the idea of amputating a thief’s work-tools. They’re probably sharpening their electric carving knives even as I write this.

So what about the nasty homophobia that’s being taught in these schools? Or the fact that six year olds are being taught that those who refuse to convert to Islam will burn in “hellfire”? Forgive me if I point out that these are some of the same viewpoints regularly articulated whenever a Christian militant argues that their religious freedoms are being quashed by the PC brigade or the gay agenda.

Furthermore, it’s particularly galling to see Education Secretary Michael Gove wading into the debate to deplore the teaching of homophobia in our schools, when his own political party has such a woeful track record on the subject.

The real issue here is the dangerous precedent set by any ‘faith school’ with an agenda, irrespective of which God it happens to tell children to fear. The Mail may have a problem with Muslim women wanting to pull a veil over their face, but it’s even worse to willingly pull the wool over our eyes.

The illusion of control

Great news everybody - the Pope has come to his senses and told the world to 'rubber up'. No longer will poverty-stricken people in the third world be condemned to the uncontrolled transmission of disease, or ever-growing broods of kids they're incapable of feeding. It's finally OK to snap on a prophylactic. Well, kind of. 

Everyone's favourite one-time Nazi has participated in the writing of a new book. And excerpts from the forthcoming bestseller have suggested that the Catholic Church is on the verge of softening its hardline stance of contraception. 

But it's probably be going to be some time before the Pope advocates widespread non-procreative fuckery. For the moment, the only people allowed to pick-up something for the weekend are rent-boys.

Responding to a question about the church's condemnation of safe sex practices, the Pontiff said: "In certain cases, where the intention is to reduce the risk of infection, it can nevertheless be a first step on the way to another, more humane sexuality." Admittedly, 'humane' and 'sexuality' aren't words one might automatically associate with the Pope, so perhaps things are changing for the better.

Asked about which 'certain cases' he had in mind, Benedict explained: "There may be a basis in the case of some individuals, as perhaps when a male prostitute uses a condom, where this can be a first step in the direction of a moralization, a first assumption of responsibility." 

I'm sure street-corners around the world are crammed with young men in short-shorts currently gripping their rosaries in relief that they can finally take responsibility for their own sexual health. Unless of course it's a case of too little too late. By the time someone's embraced their homosexuality and decided to charge elderly priests for it, they're probably not holding out for Papal approval. 

As well as this remarkable u-turn on the issue of condoms, it's also nice to see what passes for authorship these days. After the CD, DVDs, tour souvenirs, and now an 'interview-based' book, it's clear that the Pope is out to rival Katie Price for multi-media ubiquity. Let's see if he turns out at our local Waterstones to promote Light of the World: The Pope, the Church and the Signs of the Times in a see-though body stocking and candy pink wig...

Ding Dong Scarily On High

I'm now officially bored of Autumn. Sludgy, decomposing leaves litter the ground, and everyone's grumbling about how dark, damp and cold it is.

Roll on winter, when suddenly people stop caring about the sub-zero temperatures (apart from old people who depend on their fuel allowance) because everything looks prettier. There's no more photogenic season than deep winter, when everything's covered in a blanket of snow, and colourful lights twinkle erratically in the the darkness.

Although I'm not sure the Scandinavians see it in quite such a romanticised way. But that's because they have to endure about five months of it. Once your house is buried up to the chimney-stack in a tsunami of snow, I guess you stop squinting whimsically at winter's majesty, and start thinking about how long your tyre chains will last.

Maybe that's why the current crop of 'seasonal movies' being lined up by our friends in the North are less 'Rudolph The Red Nosed Reindeer' and more 'Silent Night, Deadly Night'. Since their winters are harsh, brutal and unforgiving, films based around Tim Allen in a fatsuit seem somehow insufficient.

Finland's festive treat is a charming little film called 'Rare Exports', which shows what happens when a young boy called Pietari realises that Santa Claus is coming to town, and that his family had better be armed to the teeth. Because this is the Santa of old Finnish myths - an ancient demon that "abducts and tortures bad children".

The bearded man in a red hat doesn't look too disimilar from the Father Christmas we're more familiar with. But the sight of him leering at a young boy from inside a cage tells us that he's unlikely to settle for a mince pie and a schooner of sherry.



Over in Norway, another winter wonderland is being trampled by man-eating monsters, this time the trolls of Scandinavian fairy tales. For a generation of kids who think that trolls are Jedward-quiffed beasties used to having a pencil end jabbed up their fjords, the King Kong-sized behemoths in 'Troll Hunter' will come as quite a shock.

Looking like a curious mash-up of Cloverfield and The Legend of Boggy Creek, André Ovredal’s horror film tells the tale of a group of film students who attempt to capture footage of real-life trolls, when they discover that "their existence has been covered up for years by a government conspiracy."

The trailer is full of night-vision, hand-held camera work and lots of screaming, but also offers a tantalising glimpse of the eponymous beasties, and they pack quite a punch. In one scene, quite literally.



This may be bordering on sacrilege, but this Christmas, I think either one of these umlaut-heavy offerings might be even more fun than yet another screening of 'It's A Wonderful Life'. Who's with me?

Be my baby?

One of the great things about the internet (besides the mind-numbing array of pixelated pornography) is the way it has advanced the democratisation of media. Now, everybody is able to have their say on pretty much anything.

We've seen the exponential growth of the blogging community (great news for me, not so much for Rihanna), the rapid expansion of Facebook and even a resurgence of interest in political debate. All good things, I'm sure you'll agree.

However, that pesky little 'like' button has also inspired the rise of digital voting on issues which don't require mass public engagement. One such example is currently causing a political firestorm in the US, as a married couple of IT technicians are asking the world's web-users whether 30 year-old Alisha Arnold should abort her 17 week-old foetus.

It's hard not to be disgusted by the laissez-faire way in which this life-altering decision has been turned over to the whim of thousands of anonymous mouse clicks. Irrespective of whether or not you condone terminating pregnancies, it's a pretty distasteful use of interactive technology. Making this an even more grim spectacle is the fact that the couple are regularly posting scans of the foetus (provisionally named 'Wiggles' - how cute) to facilitate the decision-making process.

Predictably, the anti-abortion voices have been quick to lend their yells of distaste to the growing cacophony, with Mary Spaulding Balch of organisation National Right to Life commenting "This is shocking. The first thing that came to my mind when I heard of this was the Roman Colosseum when the mob picked who lived and who died."

Whatever the reasons for the Arnold's online poll, it's a shame that the debate they've inspired is so one-sided. What's missing from the discussion is a clear voice condemning the couple for their thoughtless and offensive act. You don't have to be a pro-lifer to argue against what they're doing, nor would it make you a hypocrite if you did.

At its heart, the concept of abortion is about a woman's right to choose. What's best for her body, her life and her family. Furthermore, even the staunchest advocates of abortion stress that it's not a decision to be taken lightly, since it can have psychological repercussions that last a lifetime.

Throwing it open to the public for a mass vote (like asking the Ready Steady Cook audience to choose red tomatoes or green peppers) invalidates the woman's right to decide, and therefore the fundamental logic of the pro-choice movement.

Then again, I have a sneaking suspicion that all is not what it seems with this tawdry and unpleasant story. Alisha claims: "Voting is such an integral part of the American identity. We vote on everything from the best singer on American Idol to who the next leader of the free world will be. Wouldn't it be nice to voice your opinion and have it actually make a difference in the real world? Why not vote on whether to continue or abort an actual pregnancy?"

There's something offensively glib about that rhetorical question, that implies the press are being lazily complicit in running the story without digging a little deeper. The Mail's coverage, for instance, suggests that "some are questioning whether the site has been set up deliberately to upset anti-abortionists." Of course, the couple themselves deny this, with Alisha an avowed fan of borderline psychotic right-wing agitator Glenn Beck, and her husband a George W Bush supporter.

But there's more to those details than a simple defence against the accusations that they're out to upset the pro-lifers. Quite the opposite in fact. Far more likely is that this is actually a well-planned, and deeply underhanded way of attacking the pro-choice movement, by debasing the decision an expectant mother faces through those throwaway associations with TV audience votes.

And what better way to throw the media off the scent, than by setting up the pro-life lobby (of which this couple are no doubt a part) as the real victims of this cruel and heartless stunt? With votes currently standing at 53.73 percent in favour of the termination, it'll be interesting to see whether the Arnold's honour the public's decision. Given their right-wing heritage, I'm willing to put money on the fact that they won't.

All white on the night

The sky is falling. The end of the world is nigh. Our cosy, ordered, same-as-it-always-was existence is threatened. And people of colour are to blame.

That's the gist of the various articles appearing in the tabloids today, based on the findings of David Coleman, Professor of Demography at Oxford University. According to the highly respected boffin, "WHITE British people will be in a MINORITY in their own country by 2066." Note that the upper case emphases come courtesy of The Sun, so that their readers know what the story is about without having to read it.

Apparently, the soaring immigrant birthrates mean that white Brits are gradually being outnumbered by their non-white neighbours. Obviously, this kind of story is a tabloid editor's dream, so the emphasis is on "record breaking levels of immigration" rather than the "thousands of Brits" who leave these shores "for a better life abroad."

We're entitled to seek our fortune overseas, it's practically our birthright. But God forbid anyone attempts to come to UK for similar reasons. Once again, the inconsistent logic applied to issues around immigration raises its ugly head. The Sun's article references Home Secretary Theresa May's plans to cap the influx of migrant workers, despite the fact that the tabloids are constantly portraying immigrants as workshy-benefits seekers. 

The report also doesn't explain how the significant number immigrants from white Eastern European countries are going to reduce the amount of Caucasian faces in school playgrounds. Nonetheless, the warning is clear - white British people can expect to be the minority by around 2066.

If that hasn't scared you, then consider the fact that "The US, by comparison, is now about 65 per cent white (non-Hispanic) and that group is projected to fall to 50 per cent by 2045." Shocking isn't it? Except, well, the U.S. is a nation of immigrants, and its indigenous (non-white) population have been rendered a minority pretty much since we first washed up on their shores. But that doesn't really support our argument so let's move on before anyone questions the lapses in our logic.

Without breaking the space-time continuum, it's hard to know how Professor Coleman can speak so categorically about the next fifty years of international people movement, birthrates and life expectancy. There are so many variables at play that such long-term projections are borderline nonsensical. That's the basic paradox at the heart of all time-travel stories - as Sarah Connor famously said "The future is not set, there is no fate but what we make for ourselves." But as one of the founders of MigrationWatch, perhaps he's less concerned with the facts than he is with drumming up reactionary scare stories. 

And anyway, surely the uninformed masses should be celebrating. After all, come 2066, they'll finally have the statistics to prove what they've been bleating about for years. Since, in their minds, the needs of minorities always come before anyone else's, they'll be back at the front of the queue in no time. 

Men are from Mars, women are from Argos

Sod the recession - Christmas is coming, so it's time to whip out that credit card and spend like there's no (VAT increase) tomorrow. But how to be sure that you're buying your significant other what they really want?

I'll be the first to admit, I'm a difficult person to buy for. If there's something I want, chances are I've either bought it or pre-ordered it to be dispatched the moment it's released. As a consequence, Christmas morning usually becomes an exercise in voucher collation.

But despite the average person being much less avaricious and materialistic than yours truly, it seems that many people still struggle to pick out a gift in those fevered weeks running up to the holidays. Worry not, the Daily Mail is here to help you to figure out those painfully cryptic clues, ensuring that Boxing Day won't be spent sleeping on the sofa in disgrace or queing for hours in the 'returns' queue at Debenhams.

When it comes to understanding modern female psychology, there's really no finer source than the Mail, which has its french-tipped finger on the pulse of contemporary womanhood. Its editorial team know exactly what drives the female mind, and exploits these incredible insights at every turn to make sure that women feel guilty for having children, not having children, being feminists, being bimbos, gossiping, working, studying, socialising, dieting, putting on weight, shopping and being frugal. If you have ovaries and you don't already hate yourself, a couple of week's of Britain's best-selling paper will soon have you plunging into a spiral of self-loathing despair.

With the female psyche a heaving maelstrom of hang-ups, it's a good job that the Mail is on hand to guide clueless menfolk through the perils and pitfalls of present picking, with an exclusive guide to interpreting their better half's hints. Hold onto your hats folks - here comes the scientific bit.

Perhaps you're married to a 'pepper hinter'. She constantly seeds her conversation with "mentions of preferred gifts". Presumably, that means statements like "I really want one of those for Christmas." See? Now, you're starting to understand the labyrinthine complexities of the female mind.

But as we all know, many of the messages we receive are non-verbal. In fact, according to John Borg, "human communication consists of 93 percent body language and paralinguistic cues". That's an awful lot of arm waving.

So the next time you're standing outside Ratners and your beloved starts gesticulating wildly at a sparkly necklace, she may well be indicating that she'd like to be wrestling it from the dog's eager jaws on Christmas morning. She's what the "experts" call a 'present pointer' - cleverly using hand gestures to draw your attention to those objects of desire. And you thought she'd just developed a violent twitch.

Still with me? Then down the rabbit hole we continue. The 'Chinese Whisperer' tells friends and family what she wants for Christmas, so that they can relay the message to her clueless spouse. These oh-so-subtle clues might come in the form of the following exchange: "Do you know what she wants for Christmas?" "Yes, she said she wants a Gucci purse." If only there was some way to decode this cryptic messaging. 

Finally, there's the 'Careless Lister', who cleverly leaves a Christmas List (usually entitled 'List of Things I Want For Christmas') lying around the house. If you see such an item artfully arranged on the breakfast bar or coffee table, it's possible the lady in your life could be trying to tell you something. Like the fact that she wants a fucking iPhone.

By now your jaw is probably agape, and you're scratching your head at how on Earth you're supposed to decipher such complex messaging. After all, as ex-Big Brother body-language expert Geoff Beattie explains, "Women know what they want and are increasingly turning to “adventising” in order to get it – using clues to advertise to men what they want for Christmas. However, their covert suggestions can at times fall on deaf ears and men are missing out on a massive two thirds of crucial hints dropped by the ladies in their life."
If it wasn't for Boots kindly stumping up the cash for this hard-hitting and revelatory research, men might still be in the dark about how to placate their passive-aggressive partners. Unless this is all just a cynical exercise in PR designed to sell more fragranced soap and toilet bags at 4.30 on Christmas Eve.

Surely, no-one's that credulous, are they? Or do I have to give you a clue...

A right mouthful

Hurrah, it's back to save us from the tedium of cold winter weekdays. I'm A Celebrity Get Me Out Of Here is now in its tenth series, having found another bunch of willing spotlight-seekers keen to secure another fifteen minutes of fame, even if they're spent trying to masticate a partially desiccated kangaroo penis.

The ITV casting team is running like a well-oiled machine by now, so the contestants have been selected to fall into rather predictable categories. There's a politician, an athlete, a singer, a reality show contestant, a past-her-prime glamour-puss, posh actor and then an assortment of people picked solely to inspire lots of "I'm sorry, I don't know who you are" conversations.

Although the show is only a few installments into its latest run, it already feels like it's never been away. Kind of like slipping on a pair of comfortable slippers, that just happen to be filled with cockroaches and eel slime.

Stacey Solomon has already established herself as a firm favourite, thanks to her unaffected persona and the fact that she could be outwitted by most of the jungle's indigenous flora.

Less appealing is Gillian McKeith, who has spent her entire career chastising people for the things they put in their mouth. If ever there was a woman crying out to be force-fed a blender full of pulverised bugs, it's Gillian. She believes 'you are what you eat', so presumably she's going to munching on a hand-full of freeze-dried stick insects.

But if you're bored of watching other people spending time in the world's most most unwelcoming fat camp, you can always try it at home. Those clever brand extension people have created a delicious range of 'witchetty grub' treats so that you can replicate the Bushtucker Trial experience at home.

Don't worry, they're not real insects. If you want actual grubs you're going to have to dig out that bottle of tequila.

These are chocolate grubs, just designed to look like the slimy critters. However, only seven of them have a delicious toffee filling. The other three... well, the manufacturers describe them as offering "a nasty surprise".

In fact, they're tripe flavour, and are sure to liven up the petit fours of any dinner party. But don't worry, if you don't want to spend £6.99 on the chocolate equivalent of russian roulette. You could always just use a bag of Revels.

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.