We’ve all been there: you’re walking down the street, shouting at children and generally minding your own business, when you stumble upon some inconsiderate layabout lying in the street, selfishly spilling their filthy blood all over the pavement.
“Look at me, look at me, I’m wearing an orange jacket!” Arsehole.
Normally I would simply ignore such rudeness, but I have recently been informed that stepping over someone “in need of medical assistance” and taking their wallet as an inconveniency payment can get …
Now I’ve made no secret of the fact that I’m a beautiful, sexy vegetarian. And I really don’t care what other people eat – if you want to stuff your mouth with some prime tarantulas or fried baby ducklings, then be my guest. After all, we all have our own codes and principles.
BUT (and I wouldn’t be a budding totalitarian dictator without a ‘but’) sometimes, when outside our traditional comfort zone of the very centre of major cities, the Vegetarian finds …
After consuming a wall-melting amount of hallucinogens whilst trying to repair the toaster with nothing but a rusted knife and a footbath full of water, I am now able to speak with the dead.
So who was I to call upon? A great feminist fighter like Sylvia Pankhurst? An important figure in the civil rights movement like Bayard Rustin? A leading gay rights activist like Harvey Milk?
No, none of those were quite right. But then it came to me: I was …
Yes, it has only been a month since I last did a news update. But if the British tabloids can find a new report on Princess Diana every month despite her being dead 17 years (yes 17 years, time to feel old), then I can report on my own goings-on.
(“Thanks” to Christoph Hartmann for this lovely memorial photograph)
And goings-on there have been!
My novel The Giddy Death of the Gays and the Strange Demise of Straights is being published!
By Lethe Press - many thanks …
Polly Petunia liked many things. She liked building sand castles at the seaside. She liked strawberry ice cream. She liked seeing the gradual decline of her deadbeat father on his visitations every other weekend.
But the thing she liked most of all was the ghost of her friend, Billy Benton.
Everyone at the nursery school thought that Billy had had a horrible accident. But Polly knew better. Polly knew that Billy deserved it, and that her actions were justified because she was …