ISSUE 52 December 8th 2000
		G A Y. . . . I’ve seen some ‘queer’ sights in my time, but none more so that the Womble’s appearance at London’s G.A.Y nightclub on Saturday night. Obviously the worlds biggest gay Womble, Stephen Gately was busy that night, so it was up to those overweight perverts in fur that roam Wimbledon common late at night to get every bottom in the place bouncing up and down. I was there, but not on purpose. I mistook the huge G.A.Y sign outside the club for the annual ‘God Against Youth’ convention. The sight that greeted me inside was not what I’d been expecting, as 2000 semi-naked men danced away to music being played by five seven foot tall, furry clad animals. I was expecting a room full of Vicars preaching about the way in which the youth of today are turning their backs on religion. Here, I found myself staring at the youth of today, turning their backs on each other. As the Wombles ran through their greatest hits set (they played for 10 minutes) I was anxious to get out of the place so I asked a young French hair-dresser called ‘Dick Masseur’ if he could give me a back stage pass to get out of this ‘gay carnival’ as soon as possible. Unfortunately, I didn’t realise a ‘back stage pass’ is gay slang for a red-hot sausage up the jacksy. No sooner had he got his sequin studded cycling shorts off, than I was in the middle of a gay orgy that would even make Dale Winton blush. Man, lets just say those Wombles are definitely bigger in real life. Uncle Bulgaria is certainly a hand full, and boy, were my hands full! BEN.