The Fag Hag is currently feeling overwhelmed with adoration for psycho bitch of the week, Dominique Fisher. Why who she, Faggy?’ I hear you cry en masse breathily and tunefully, not unlike Michael Jackson’s choir in ‘Heal the World’.
She, my darlings is the wonderfully unstable woman who left a uniquely genius calling card on a drunken one night stand – by carving her name into his arm with a Stanley knife. ‘I went to her place for sex not to be tattooed,’ said the man in question as he ran his hands through the Superdrug product in his squaddie style haircut. Before adding, ‘I can’t believe she did this to me. I’m scarred for life’.
Oh please! Grow some gonads tiny tears. And move away from the corner of 5th and Self Pity Avenue, (that’s my beat…) Because frankly, the Fag Hag and her posse of faggerinis have had far worse behaviour from one night stands in our time – it’s a jungle out there honey, and sometimes your loincloth is gonna get ripped.
There was the man who did a wee in my pal Julia’s bed before scarpering…There was the queeny friend of Fag Hag mum’s who woke up on Christmas morning and said to some poor piece of Aussie trade ‘Jesus Christ, you’re fucking hideous! Get out.’
And there was the man who had sex with my friend with his shoes on and a cab waiting. So frankly mister man, i’d call your experience downright romantic…