Fag Hag Diary

Bad Uncle Rodney!


The Fag Hag is getting rather concerned about Fag Hag mum tonight.

No, don’t worry. She’s not signed up for a dodgy tummy tuck like mummy Kanye and she isn’t about to hit the town with Annie Late Night-ingale. What she’s doing is far more dangerous, infinitely more fraught with potential drama and way more irresponsible. That’s because tonight the Fag Hag mum is meeting up with Uncle Rodney from Sydney… 

Uncle Rodney is one of Fag Hag mum’s Aussie pals who used to drag me and my sister to Bang and Madame JoJo’s when we were 14 and force feed us cigarettes and Jack Daniels. He’s the same Uncle Rodney who used to leave drunken messages for my mother on our answer machine which we’d pass on, saying, ‘Mummy, Uncle Rodney says, Where are you, you old bitch? Are you out cruising Piccadilly, because apparently that’s his beat…’

Then on Boxing Day, when other children gathered round the fireside to hear a Christmas Carol, we gathered round the fireside to hear tales of how Uncle Rodney had thrown a man out of bed on Christmas morning with the words, ‘Jesus, you’re fucking hideous!’

So you can understand why I feel nervous when the Fag Hag mum announces that Uncle Rodney is taking her out for the evening to Old Compton Street. Because I don’t particularly want my 67-year-old mother to end up tonight sniffing poppers in a leather dungeon whilst a Paul Rutherford lookalike wields a spanking paddle… 

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One comment to “Fag Hag Diary”

  1. Your mother can come out with us anytime – night, day or otherwise…

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