One of the Fag Hag’s most fabulous female friends, Miss Natural Blonde, called up the Fag Hag Investigation Bureau this weekend. Think of the FHIB as a sort of Hetty Wainthropp – except the sort of crimes I solve are to do with men that disappear with still-wet dicks, rather than organist corpses in the hydrangea bush.
‘Okay, gimme all you got on this,’ I said once I’d pulled up with a screech to the crime scene and started swigging coffee. ‘I need descriptions, I need times, I need motives’. (more…)