Village People

I was tickled pink to discover that Liverpool is to have its own gay village, Dorothy being a friend of friends of mine.

But then I was disappointed that it will not be a permanent fixture, with, for example, a gay village shop and a gay village idiot.

It will only appear at night, the catalyst being when Stanley Street becomes closed off to cars. Pedestrianisation is, apparently, the single precondition for the establishment of a gay village.
I had no idea that cars were a particular risk to homosexuals.

My only thought is that their heads must be so full of gayness that they are unable to walk exclusively on pavements. Perhaps that is what being gay is all about - it's not about chaps liking to play with other chaps' bits, it's jaywalking. Or gaywalking as it was probably originally known before the PC police came and took all our words away.

I used to work in Southport and Chapel Street was a bustling street full of life and litter and that. But it has recently been pedestrianised.

Anyway, to test whether my theory of pedestrianisation being a precondition for an outpouring of homosexuality, I popped along to Chapel Street.

Here are my findings...

9am Not many people.
10am Not many people.
11am Somebody walks into Marks & Spencer.
12 noon Lunch
1pm Not many people.
2pm Not many people.
3pm Not many people.
4pm Not many people.
5pm Not many people.
6pm Not many people.
7pm Not many people.
8pm Nobody.
9pm Nobody.
10pm It's like magic. From out of nowhere, a rainbow of coloured handkerchiefs. Men with moustaches. Women with moustaches. Balloons. People not breeding. It's a big gay party of gayness with gay people being gay in a gay context.
11pm I just saw a gay man holding hands with another gay man. It's just like Torchwood.
12 midnight At last. A man with oiled muscles and leather chaps walks down the street. He's carrying a banner. It reads: "Boo to cars. They are like kryptonite to us gays."

Proof positive, I reckon.