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º January 8th-14th 2001
Monday Unexpected pleasures
Tuesday Evil sex-taker
Wednesday Rubbery connections
Thursday What can it be?
Friday Drunk enough to...
Saturday Respect
Sunday Pipping Mother Teresa

º Monday 8th January 2001

One of the best things about living with a busy scene is getting home at the end of the night (afternoon, morning, whatever), collapsing on the bed, and going "whoooo, well I didn't know that would happen..."

Yesterday at the Vauxhall being a case in point.

No show from Dame Edna (they told us after we'd paid) and a sparse attendance, so it didn't augur well. But her replacement Miss Kandy Kane was totally excellent

And then back into town to Comptons, where many of those who'd fled the Vauxhall earlier were checking out the new 'post-Trade' evening which is plainly setting out to draw some of the Vauxhall crowd, and probably will. Not sure it will be a regular fixture for our crowd, but who knows? It was certainly promising (and I do believe I remember a boy showing us his bottom, which always goes down well.)

º Tuesday 9th January 2001

It's official: I am an Independent Evil Sex Taker.

But then, hmmm, so are most of the gay men I know who have taken the survey. (Is this because we couldn't stipulate "...the first and last name of everyone you've ever kissed"?)

Somehow parallel to this: a site that's guaranteed to offend at least someone: Divine Interventions - the home of the Baby Jesus Butt Plug.

Don't say you weren't warned.

º Wednesday 10th January 2001

I'm reading two books at the moment.

One is Donnerjack by Roger Zelazny in which virtual reality plots to overtake the real world with the assistance of a cast of characters that includes Death, an entire primitive tribe, and at least two minor deities.

The other is In the Electric Mist with the Confederate Dead by James Lee Burke, in which a hard-boiled ex-alcoholic New Orleans detective solves the perverted murder of young hookers in the deep bayoux with the assistance of the one-legged spectre of a dead Confederate general.

Quite what this has to do with sitting in Pontis at Liverpool Street, very drunk after the Joiners at three o'clock in the morning, surrounded by half a dozen young people sleeping at their tables, trying to eat rubbery lasagne whilst listening to two uniformed policeman drinking tea and discussing their expenses...I'm not quite sure.

But I remember feeling a strong sense of connection...

º Thursday 11th January 2001

Hmmm, an invention as significant as the World Wide Web, and for details of which a publisher has paid a quarter of a million dollars, sight unseen?

An alternative to products that "are dirty, expensive, sometimes dangerous and often frustrating, especially for people in the cities."

What can it be?

º Friday 12th January 2001

Last night's trip to the (rather dull) quiz at The Coronet in Stratford ended with something that suggests a new standard in inebriation: Drunk Enough to Eat at McDonalds.

The Bailey's at Phil and Neil's didn't help...

º Saturday 13th January 2001

Last night to One Nation, the Queer Nation once-a-monther at 333 (as we have now learnt to call it).

But before that, the traditional dilemma: where to meet in that area at after-eleven? Oh please, not the Joiners.

No indeed: The Cock and Comfort, which doesn't seem to have changed a bit - same old tired cabaret, same old tired customers, same old 'precious little cock and fuck all comfort'. David, to make matters worse, was over half an hour late; it can be difficult to maintain one's fabulosity shield under these circumstances.

Nonetheless we survived the walk to Old Street, swanned past the guest-list tranny, and settled in for a good and busy night - despite my initial hangover-based trepidations.

One Nation is settling down very nicely: there was even a Sikh in a turban lest we forget the name of the night.

Later, much later, to The Spiral Staircase for the last half hour ("You only come here because everything else is closed!", well yes Max) and then a black cab home. A black cab with a black cab driver whose final farewell after I'd paid him handsomely off maybe marks a new millennial shift:

"Respect, mate, cheers..."

º Sunday 14th January 2001

It's official: Mother Teresa pipped by Britney Spears.

......previous week