Friday 20 December 2002

On the first gay of Christmas

Every year, Daniel and I have the same tired old argument – you know the one – about who invented Xmas. As fas as Dan's concerned, "It's Jesus's birthday" and, like a good little Christian boy, he wastes an inordinate amount of the holiday toing anf froing between home and church. Of course, danial loves Xmas, whereas I think it's a load of cock (I wish).

All that work stuffing a big turkey? Forget it! I'd rather get stuffed with chicken any time. Thinking about it, though, whatever the origins of Xmas, it could only have been invented by a gay man. Just take a look at the evidence: all those fairies, fairy lights, oodles of tinsel, fruit cakes, large knobbly nuts, The Sound of Music, holly (all those pricks!) ...

Back home, the festive family warfare's started early. Dad's been in a foul mood for months, conjuring up ever-more preposterous reasons why "both my sons are raving poufs!" His latest theory is, wait for it, Xmas! He blames Mum for buying me that rather chic tea service I'd pestered them for when I was a kid instead of forcing Action Man on me. He wasn't amused when I told hime I'd played with plenty of action men since.

Mum's ignoring him, as usual, too busy with "more important things" like celebrating her sucessful Celebrity Big Brother "Vote Mark Owen" campaign – "He's so cute, dear."

And Gran's highlight of the whole ghastly proceedings will be when we join her and Auntie Beeb for their traditional dose od EastEnders festive cheer. This years 'Enders promises a rel cracker of a storyline involving Jack Ryder (Jaime) – a real cracker!

Oh, one final point. Those of you who were attentive enough to note that I promised a piece of time travel – and have also noted that it's not here – well, it has appeared, but in the future. See you in March.

Monday 1 April 2002

On the game ...

If you're not a cricket fan, like me you probaly don't understand the first thing about how the blessed game is played. In facy, my limit of sports expertise is confined to knowing the names of various sporting personalities. Of course, as you'd expect, Daniel's good at all kinds of sport and says I'm like the stereotypical gay man who's crap at it. I'm of the opinion, though, what's the use of being queer if you don't hate the damned stuff? And, anyway, I keep fit in far more interesting ways ...

That said, sport has had a large impact on my life – football, rugby and tennis particularly: Jimmy Hill's ex-wife was once my English teacher; Gareth Edwards gave his name to my kid brother; John McEnroe inspires my rebellious nature; and my insatiable sex drive is the result of schoolboy fantasies about absolutely drop-dead-gorgeous David Beckham.

Even I, though, can differentite between one sport and another (well, more or less), which reminds me of something that the legendary motor-racing commentator Murray Walker once said while summing up some or other race: "You might not think that's cricket, and it's not: it's motor racing."