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Monday, December 03, 2007

Orange Sundays

At 11.28 GMT on Sunday 2nd of December, gaydar.co.uk - the premiere site for Gentlemen Who Don't Care For Dating, went down.

Shored up on my islands of Facebook and Thingbox, I felt the tsunami shortly afterwards when all of a sudden the numbers of 'online chatting' shot up by 300 in a matter of minutes. I stirred my cocktail as, around me, feral gentlemen ran by yelling 'WOT U IN2 M8?' and 'PIXPLSTHNX' into the air like banshees with all the speed of Britney Spears running away from a court-ordered drugs-test. Their numbers swelled. They were up in arms (a change from legs) and people were scowering their mobile phone directories for those old shags that were to be saved for such emergencies, known in the trade as 'lay bys'.

On all accounts, it was unfortunate timing. Sundays are the busiest of days for the stock-market-like chatrooms; gentlemen had been out on Friday, got dolled up for Saturday night dancing and neither night nary a sniff of cock. Sunday afternoon was when pride was swallowed in order to swallow anything else. Theories were banded around as to why and how by the more literate members - maybe the Church had finally got to it. Maybe Martha Stewart had finally infiltrated the server hall and spilled what she called her 'Pious Punch' into the main hub. As people were refreshing their browser every few minutes in the vain hope that the trouble was at their end, the situation became more dire. There was talk of a mass gathering in Green Park in order to swap fuzzy cock shots in person. The UN was contacted - the back-up plan of 500 Polish rent boys being airlifted into the capital was pushed forward. Existing Gentlemen of Easy Favours in the city were instructed to start servicing for free and the government would supplement their incomes as part of a desperate attempt to regain order from all the bisexual men in the suburbs who's wives had all gone out for the afternoon, leaving them with five hours to kill and a nasty candlewick bedspread to stain.

All of a sudden Old Compton Street was rammed to the rafters and Soho had to enforce a one-in-one-out ticketing system. Three queens were almost crushed under the sheer weight of expectation. You couldn't move for gentlemen bending over and spreading their cheeks and inviting you to take a look.

And the most horrific of outcomes: people had to actually start talking to each other.

5 comments:

Anon Dirty said...

That's a LOL entry for sure.

Stuart said...

I actually re-signed up to gaydar after a 3year stint of being clean and within about 1hour refreshed my memory as to why I decided to close my account the previous time... cock shots and pervy old men!

Qenny said...

Maybe it was a dry run. If they ever actually work out how to make a web site go down on all its members, they've got it made.

Frank said...

The horror! The horror! Someone should make a movie about it, one of those "inspiring tales" sorts of things on Lifetime (do you get that over there?). It's got it all: an act of God (you know how he feels about us), panic, adversity, the triumph of the human spirit, plus lots and lots of cock shots and blow jobs. It'd be a hit, I tells ya, a hit! Make it happen, Lee!

Spike said...

Oh the humanity!