Holidays, Beetles, Bottom-users and My Eye

Blimey - I'm glad that the end of May Bank Holiday is well and truly over and the tourists have buggered off back to their council-estates in Leeds and Manchester - I have never had to work so hard in my life. I did a whole THREE hours in the bar on Saturday and another FOUR on Sunday. On Monday I did another THREE!! This is all because Marl has been under the weather since her return from the UK. She says she was bitten by the Black Death Beetle when she was having a sponsored-sleep for charity and told David that they had to stitch one of her buttocks back on after it fell off due to the toxin. He doesn't believe her, but I think it could be true because she hasn't been able to sit down since she came back and won't show her arse in the bar like she usually does...

The brown stuff (and this time I don't mean Bovril or Marmite) really hit the fan when Marl took me to task over my deal with the other bar-owner that I told you about. To be fair, she was not too harsh with me (probably on account of her sore arse) and I have been told by the hospital that my retina will likely re-attach itself sometime later in the year...

I have had a couple of dozen emails from men called Nigel, Keith, Russell, Marcus, Troy, Adrian and Blair to say that not all camp gay-like airline-dressing-girly-singing men from England are actually poofs. Whilst I respect the views of those good people who sent the emails, please be aware that I, and the whole of the rest of the world without exception do truly believe that 'men' who dress up as airline stewards and ponce about wiggling their hips whilst singing a song about 'sucking' and 'nuts' on Eurovision or any other noncy-arsed TV show are indeed as queer as an arse-fest organised by Liberace's chiffon-wearing ghost and attended by all of Elton John's bottom-worshipping friends, fifty-thousand pairs of Freddy Mercury's silver panties and every Village People lookalike poofter band that ever minced its way out of the dark rooms of San Francisco, Amsterdam, Brighton or Nottingham whilst wearing gold lamé and sequin-studded cod-pieces...