Sinister: I've been called a ponce.

[geoff]

God bless you all, little sinisterines,

'Uncle Geoff,' they softly implore, their upturned little faces shining
with excitement and wonder, 'Why don't you ever post to The List?'
'Kids, kids, kids,' I reply, 'I don't have time. And besides, I'm always
too drunk.'
'Tell us another story, then.'
OK, ok, this one's called: 'How I got my wallet nicked and nearly got my
head kicked in that time in the George Tavern'. I'm working on a snappier
title, but that's your ronson, for the nonce.

It starts as a fairly normal thursday ends. Cradling what seems like my 7th
pint of the black stuff in unshaking hands, I am seated at what appears at
first glance to be an average table in an average pub. Look closer. There
is tension in the air. The mixture of fey kids with university educations
and football hooligans with chips on shoulders is an explosive one. At that
very moment a spark is released, and, dear brother, dear sister, this is
very fucking dry tinder.
'Geoff,' -an inquiring tone, but with the venom and hatred of 20 odd years
of underachievement behind it - 'why are you smoking that cigarette . . .
like a *POOF*?'
I check my internal Walk / Don't Walk light. It is green. The signalman is
probably out the back thowing up perfect pints of guinness into straight
sided glasses. Or dead down the drains. I take a deep breath.
'I'm not gay,' I started, (better to be safe than sorry) 'But if I *was*,
would you have a problem with that?'
'*I* would!' pipes up neanderthal #2. This one is *really* evil looking.
This one has scars on his face from when he got a teargas canister right in
the mush during the World Cup riots in France. 'I think they're fucking
disgusting!'
'I don't believe this!' I countered. 'Next you'll be telling be you're
racists an' all'
That, dear reader, is exactly what they were about to tell me.

Apparently, what my problem is, is that like all these poncy bloody student
cunts they fucking teach 'em to be queer don't they? Born with a silver
spoon in the gob, the likes of me have got it all, and we still don't have
the decency to hate the fucking blacks. The most effective treatment, I am
told, is a fucking good kicking.

Taking the underground back to my bolt-hole, I pondered the wisdom of my
actions. I had stood up for what I believed in, and lost my wallet in the
process. I had singularly failed to reduce the number of homophobic /
racist assholes at large, yet seriously increased the number of people who
want to kick my head in. Bigottry had prevailed, and I hadn't. What's a
wooly-minded liberal boy to do?


I love each and every one of you with a passion that scorches my very soul,

geoff x




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