My erection can be seen from space!

I kid you not! I now have the biggest garden shed I have ever seen in my garden. Not only is it massive but it's been built on a raised platform due the slope in my garden so it's massiveness is magnified ten fold, much to the obvious delight of the neighbours. During the erection process we kept getting glimpses of the lesbians peering through their blue plastic Ikea blinds and the dirty old goat from next door kept peeking over his windowsill in a manner that made him look even more like evil Bob from Twin Peaks.

I daresay had these been normal circumstances the neighbours might have been up in arms about such a blight on the Croydon landscape. I mean our gardens are an ex-woodland so the appearance of what could be described as an bright orange Butlins Chalet might not have gone down too well. However the back garden could in no way have been described as 'normal' for the last 2 years. Not since my mate decided we needed more storage space and put up a Scouts marquee on the lawn!

Seemed like a good idea 2 summers ago and it was great for parties. Then gradually it got filled up with well.......................crap really. Then the foxes moved in and it was their turn to party in this purpose built foxy fun house with en-suite toilet. The stench of fox urine made your eyes water and piles of fox poo kept appearing in places that made you wonder how the hell the fox managed to get into such a position to drop one there. I'm sure they were using the storm lantern as a trapeze.

During the next 2 years rubbish builders came and went. Mostly went actually as they were all so unreliable that they would rarely appear on the day they were supposed to. They'd always drop by unexpectedly when your in the middle of a morning wank over some hunk's holiday snaps in OK magazine or the Torso of the Week in HEAT. Many a time I had to answer the door stooped over with an Argos catalogue covering my own personal marquee.

In the end we gave up on them and decided it shouldn't be too difficult to finish off the base ourselves. I mean how hard can it be to lay a concrete floor. Well very hard as we found out to our cost. Sand, water, gravel and 2 cold poofs is not an ideal combo. After 4 long hours of swishing around in this mess the surface had more bumps than the A3. We crawled back indoors, defeated and phoned the builders again.

Unbelievably they turned up and within a couple of days we had a flat deck for the shed.

The day of the erection arrived and whilst me and her from upstairs stood there trembling with fear at the thought of building this monstrosity. Mate was keeping us motivated by ordering us around and giving us encouragement by rolling his eyes and saying things like 'Don't touch that'!

In fact the whole thing went up very quickly and was very painless. Except when the ladders fell over while I was having a swig of tea and I spilled it all down my right arm.

It was fortunate that the erection was fast as we kept finding cat shit everywhere. We'd unearthed a cat toilet in the garden and the more we dug......the more stenching nuggets we uncovered. What is it with my garden that attracts the local wildlife to empty their bowels.

Skip's coming next weekend and the marquee will be no more. Maybe then the dog can get back in the garden again and oust the fouling felines and foxes. She needs to get her jobbies up there and reclaim her toilet.

Ok I'll keep you posted on the demise of the marquee next week and try not to do any more angry rant blogs in the meantime LOL ;-)

Happy Holidays & Homophobia!

Well it's over for another year and I've survived again albeit with bowel movements swaying dramatically from pebble-dashing to prehistoric rock formations!

I managed to get away with only 2 Christmas parties this year and both were a cracking good time. Cracking being the operative word as I managed to recreate the ending of Torville & Dean's Bolero on an icy Broad Street in my new pointy, party shoes........TWICE! Well the queue outside Walkabout demanded an encore so I had to oblige, didn't I.

Christmas shopping was stress-free this year. Did it all online in November. How bloody cool am I eh? Well I was really cool until my father rang me last Friday to inform me that he'd forgotten to tell me that the hamper I ordered for him had been sent back to Harrods due to the fact that he'd forgotten it was being delivered and had gone out for the day with his new lady 'friend'. Don't get me started on that bombshell!! I mean he's 80 with arthritis and prostrate trouble FFS!

Anyway said Lothario forgot to tell me that this happened a week or so before, so I'm left making frantic calls to Harrods at 5.27pm on the Friday before Christmas to try and find out where the bloody hamper is. The local Post Office don't have it and it's not found it's way back to Harrods either so it's probably landed up as a special Christmas gift to some lucky Mother in Dundee whose son works for Parcel Force.

Between me and a Harrods Customer Service Manager, who sounded like Zippy from Rainbow, we managed to agree on a hamper re-send and I told the old letch that he had to stay at home for a couple of days and wait for the delivery. I'm sure he could find something to keep him occupied on GalaBingoBabes.co.uk if he got desperate.

Christmas day was a rather bizarre experience. Me and my ex spending it with my ex's boyfriend and his ex. It wasn't as bad as I'd thought and in fact it was quite good fun. Well anything is fun after 3 half pints of mulled wine I guess. It was all going rather well and in fact I found the ex's boyfriend's ex to be extremely attractive and was enjoying the day more and more. However the thought of someone else I like right now made me hold back and not get too flirty. That and the fact that even thinking of the complications of me with ex's boyfriend's ex................ Oh jeez it just doesn't bear thinking about! That would be a 4 star Blog in the making or a dead cert for a reality TV shown on Living TV between Queer Eye and Extreme Makeover UK. Is it just me or are the UK women on there not really that different at the end? They all still look a bit Chav but with nice hair and a decent dress.

Whilst I'm on this rather gay topic. I was having a browse online and for some reason landed up on the Channel 4 News Form. Bloody hell Boxing Day is an anti-climax LOL

Found the usual gay debate on there. These threads are common on the News Forum and it amuses me how some people will post anti-gay statements in the guise of a 'debate'.

I also find it it hilarious that straight males claim to fear homosexuals like they are some sort of aggressive heavy mob waiting to pounce on fragile little straight men and force them into some gay sex act. What is it they fear I wonder?

It surely can't be the act of budgery as that is popular between consenting straight couples(mainly for male gratification). It is also common in all male schools/prisons and even used as a form of attack & dominance on other males.

It leads me to assume that this terrible fear must be due to the fact that, what they will quite happily do to a woman or indeed another man, might be done to them by some big gay brute of a man. OK maybe I can understand that the role reversal may not be appealing but I wonder where these men think these fearful attacks might take place?

Trapped behind the lockers in Holmes Place gym and tied up with some iPod Shuffle headphones?

Bashed over the head with a bag of Mange Tout and dragged into Tesco's toilets......more room in the wheelchair cubicle!

Heaven forbid they should sit next to a gay on a bus/train. That would be just asking for trouble! Look out for tell tale signs guys.....HEAT magazine and Diesel trainers....before you sit down.

OK I'm being flippant now but I really would like to know why someone would be scared of me and think that I'm on the prowl every day for a weak straight guy to dominate for sexual pleasure???? Hmmmm. I'm turning myself on now.

Most of my male friends are straight and I don't see them trembling with fear in my company. Backing off at the overpowering smell of my D&G cologne maybe.......but never scared of the contents of my pants.

I do combat sports as a hobby and work out with a lot of tough blokes who don't bat an eyelid about my sexuality. It's just not an issue for them.

Oh look I've gone off track again haven't I. Back to Christmas.

It wasn't so bad after all and in fact I received something nice on my new phone that made me smile during the present unwrapping. I did get lots of lovely pressies but then there were the usual presents that required Academy Award standard acting during the ceremony.

I mean what was I supposed to say at the sight of a remote controlled Dalek and a Croydon Advertiser mug............................

Follow that script................

OK back to my silly life.

I got a call from a Conservatory Company the other day.

I said 'Sorry I'm not interested'

The bloke said 'Why not?'

I said 'I'm just not interested. OK'

He said 'But why not?'

I said 'I don't have to give you a reason!!!!!!'

He said 'Yes you do cos I have to put something in this field on the form'

I said 'Put that I live on the 12th floor of a block of flats'

He said 'Do you?'

Return of the Train................

Haven't blogged for flippin ages due to wasting my Summer watching Big Brother and being generally busy at work and at home. I've been travelling around a fair bit recently and thought I should share my recent transport calamity.

The day started badly when I cracked my forehead on the door to the airing cupboard and that left a hideous bump and a flap of skin that was a bit too big to rip off without adding to the unsightly wound.

Showered and shaved and whilst having some toast and coffee I had a strange feeling of being alone. Where was the dog? She's always sniffing around for any crumb-drops when I'm having toast. Went round the house and looked in her 4 beds - yes you read right! I have to search for her cos she's as deaf as a post now so no point calling for her. OK she's not indoors. Went outside and no sign of her on the patio! Now I'm getting worried. She's arthritic so she couldn't have got up the big steps to the main garden.........could she?

Having searched indoors again I decided to chance looking round the upper garden. Yes you've guessed. There she is wandering around and having a rare old time sniffing about.

I sneaked up on her and grabbed her gently from behind. She got a bit of a fright. However I got an even bigger fright when the smell hit me! She was covered in fox shit and now so was I!!!! Grrrrrrrrr..........

Back to the bathroom for both of us. Dog washed and me re-washed and I'm ready for the off.

Things were going well now. I caught an early train from Croydon to Watford Junction. Felt chuffed cos that meant I could avoid Central London. At Watford Junction there was an earlier train I could catch to Crewe and change there for Liverpool. That looked sound and I should get a connection and arrive earlier.

10 minutes out of the station the Inspector comes down. He was one of those people that you couldn't age. He could have been anywhere from early twenties to mid forties and he had what looked like 2 blobs of mayonaise on his shirt. I tell him I know I have to change at Crewe. He agreed but added that my ticket wasn't valid on this train!

I was really confused because I always buy Standard Savers and you can usually use them on any train. However not trains from Euston between 4-6pm on weekdays. A fact I wasn't aware of. He could clearly see that I wasn't trying it on but insisted that I buy another ticket as he had announced at Euston that these tickets weren't valid. The fact that I couldn't have heard the announcement as I got on at Watford made no difference and he took a very jobsworth and condescending stance. What is it with me and ticket inspectors? So I forked out another £70 whilst mumbling under my breath and making a note of his name for future Mr Angry email to Virgin.

I was livid and stomped down the aisle to the loo for a wee. In my stroppy haste I caught my new Timberland three quarter trousers on an arm rest and ripped the pocket on the leg almost completely off. This caused 2 foreign kids and their fat sweating Mother to laugh hysterically. I would have laughed myself but the inspector was still in the carriage and I couldn't drop my stern scowl.

When I got back to my seat with my pocket flapping around, a blonde chavette had appeared from nowhere and was sat on the table diagonally opposite. She was having a fight with her boyfriend on her mobile phone. It was all 'at the end of the day' 'no listen, right' very loud and lots of handwaving. She kept losing signal and screaming 'call me back, call me back' and he did so we had to hear her bloody stupid ringtone over and over again. This went on all the way to Crewe. Even my MP3 player couldn't drown her out.

At least she was gone and I went to check the time of the next train to Liverpool. 40 minutes and it's the train I should have got on back at Watford Junction so after all that I won't arrive any earlier.

Argument with a jobsworth in a stained red shirt, £70 lighter, trousers destroyed and a thumping headache. Just to add to my joy I pulled a muscle in my leg lifting my case up the stairs when I was changing platfrom at Crewe and now I'm walking like I have a swollen testicle.

Return of the train........my arse!