Not these exact ones here because this is plainly a suburban American setting and ours was in London but we didn’t want to take a camera because there was always going to be Tesco’s booze involved and how many times have we lost a camera with a bunch of those shots? You know, those ones. You know the ones, don’t make us spell it out.
Anyways, we’re just turning the last leg, round the bottom of Lower Regent Street, when what do we see but the Freak Pen. You know, the cage where they put the Jesus people shouting.
Tempting as it is just to throw your empties and Sobrani butts at them as you go past, we thought we’d do the grown-up thing and go over and ask some simple questions. Firstly, why are you down here being so hateful when all we want is a little freedom, a little respect, a little more vodka in this goddamn drink FOR CRYING OUT LOUD!
Anyways, the long and the short of it is, the reason people in poly-cottons (against the word of God himself, you’ll remember, if you’ve read your Leviticus) feel the need to come down and shout at the gays is that we are bringing forth the wrath of God.
Yes, really (and stop sniggering in the back)! How is this wrath communicated, we wondered, between swigs?
‘Just look at crime figures!’ sayeth the man in the poly-cotton.
We did have to comment that as wraths of Gods go, that one is particularly shit. With all the materials at his disposal – thunder, lightening, volcanoes, bolts from the blue not to mention raining frogs or the rivers running with blood – you’d have thought He could have come up with something a little more showbiz than a slight increase in car theft (actually crime is going down, but hey…)
We remained unimpressed and passed the baton to someone with an empty vodka bottle and a just-smoked Sobrani…