Journey through space to the Planet Fabulous, where the Ruler of the Universe will see you shortly.

Monday, December 01, 2003

Come In Number 69, Your Time Is Up!

It was on our lackadaisical search for that aforementioned gentleman that we discovered one of Declan and my old haunts has been lost in the ongoing Pub Wars of Greater London. West Central used to be a must for us on a Wednesday night as it was Singles Night, and always good for a quick fumble in the loos with a numbered badge with a man attached. We used to adore baiting a man whom Declan thought had the aspect of Young Mr Grace, whereas I likened him to Arthur C Clarke (full name: ‘Arthur C Clarkecreatorofthespacesatellite-authorof2001-currentlyresidinginSriLanka’ in every newspaper article you read). But West Central has gone, reverting back into the non-fabulous version. Like Risk, you may have to give up territory to gain it; the last bastion of heterosexuality on Old Commotion Street was called the Rat and Parrot, next to the Ann Summers shop. Over a matter of months we all took turns in popping in and dancing around our handbags until all the usual beer-swilling clientele just gave up the ghost. I did witness the last pungent trucker slam his pint down and leave in frustration when Kylie came on the jukebox, leaving it free to be converted for Men Who Are Good Listeners as soon as we’d disposed of his fetid barstool.

According to the decorators of the establishment, there’s only one way to get the smell of straight out of a place: cover it in leopard skin. It works, though - no self respecting heterosexual would go near it, and even tourists who often wander into our quiche-serving public houses get the message straight away. I even know the Italian for ‘Fuck me! It looks like Jackie Collins’ tool shed in here!’ but can’t really do it without a squeak of an expensive shoe doing a 180-degree turn. Yet with this becoming one of ours, we had to relinquish one to them. So, fair well West Central, and bless them, they’ve gone as far as fumigating it in their own way to make sure no gay man would ever cross the threshold.

West Central has become a sports bar.


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