Gay Culture Encounter

I don’t like it being pushed in my face, so to speak.

I was in Foyle’s bookshop, London, recently, and by accident picked up a book called Matinee Idols. I thought I was still in the photography section, but had strayed into Gay Culture without realising (honest). It’s like when you are in some of those American cities where you go one block and find yourself in a bad neighbourhood. It was fine before you crossed the street, everything was normal. But suddenly, you’re in a world of shit.

I innocently opened this book thinking it might be iconic photographic work by some of Hollywood’s great photographers of the 20th century, but no, it was full of pictures of blokes with huge nobs. Some of them sticking right up with a bone in.

I thought that was illegal – boners – I thought erections and penetration were classed as hardcore porn. Maybe I’m just naïve, but I shut the book again quickly. I didn’t want anybody seeing me looking at nobs and thinking I was a poof.

I suppose it goes under the heading of ‘art’ does it?

What probably pissed me off more than anything, was that mine would look like a chipolata next to these salamis. And these buggers all had tight muscles and six-packs, not like me and my man-boobs and over-hanging gut.