Who said manners are dead…?

The mysterious 'M'.

Firstly, can you read that okay? *squints* Can you? *squints* Can you? *squints*

Secondly, what a nice young man this ‘M’ is. We’re assuming it’s ‘M’. Could be… no, it’s definitely ‘M’. Or an upside down ‘W’.

Three and maybe fourthly, his manners are impeccable. Last time we passed out in a stranger’s or indeed strangers’ apartment/flat/vast country estate we made a corned beef sarnie, straightened the pillows, kissed the stranger/strangers delicately on each cheek, compared underwear and took the better pair/pairs (oh we didn’t really. Ours our invariably the better pair/pairs) and legged it as fast as our homo legs could carry us, picking up one delicious chocolate-covered croissant as we passed the kitchen island. Then when stranger/strangers tapped us on the shoulder in a venue of the night and said, ‘Hello, nice to see you again,’ we just shook our head, pointed to someone behind them, and legged it as fast as our big gay legs could carry us.

True story. Ask anyone. 

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4 comments to “Who said manners are dead…?”

  1. So I had to turn my binoculars around to read this, but M…? I like him.

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  2. M? I’ve had ‘im.

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  3. ‘M’ has shamed me. Last time I went back to strangers’ (plural) townhouse in Angel and let them do whatever they liked, in the morning they offered to make me some coffee (they were French and very ooh la la), I said yes, then ran out when they went down to the kitchen. I should have sent an email apology.

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  4. In case you don’t have a microscope: http://newyork.craigslist.org/brk/mis/1605257225.html

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