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Your approval is unnecessary... read on and learn!

Your approval is unnecessary...

eric page

Wednesday, 18 June 2008

Well good day to you all folks. Welcome to my world - a world full of glamour, irony, distain, filthy sex, endless anecdotes, a rococo taste in music, endless scorn of the vacuous and the celebration of manufactured nostalgia. You’ll either get me, or you’ll hate me, but you know what... your approval is unnecessary. So read on and learn.

I am a cute mass of contractions but you can call me Mr. I do a few very interesting things and many more dull things - but my life and jobs are both curious, stimulating and endlessly fascinating. There'll be no celebration of celebrity in this column, apart from my own. No mindless following the next ebbing wave of homo fashion and certainly no product placement. I am a republican queen, and I expect my subjects to concentrate. There will be questions, oh the endless questions and if you are well behaved and can read between the lines there may even be answers. In fact I will be pleased if you can read at all.

What are you lot like though? I spend my time leaching and eroding your own privacy for the sake of some humorous, entertaining or enlightened anecdotes, after all it’s better to profit by a bad example than to become one; like you!

I spent last weekend in a PSE (public sex environment) - that’s a cruising ground to you plebs... and before any of you think that I may have been walking my dog, looking for a lost Aunt or just familiarising myself with the night time Flora I was in fact chatting to folk about gonorrhoea and the fifteen different ways of spelling it and the 138 different ways of catching it, and everyone’s getting it at the moment! It’s the hot new STI, and I know I said I wasn’t going to give you any fashion advice, but if you ain’t got it then it’s not too late. Talking to punters about putrid discharge under the starry sky and waning yellow moon on a hot and humid night in the early summer of an English cruising ground on the beach, with the rabbits hopping around my feet, the moths bouncing off my steely and perfectly barbered grey hair and the gentle sounds of slurping and ‘ow’s your father’ coming from a rather dense thicket of Tamarisk bushes, perfect! You couldn’t make this shit up!

Keep your eyes peeling poppets, I will expect you to keep up. So get up off your dumbed down knees and raise those hands for hope is as cheap as despair.

Eric x