Sticky Carpet

It was Saturday night and we decided to hit the town...well Houslow to be exact...not much of a town and not a place to be walking around without half a dozen Pitt Bull dogs with you...that said we all headed to a hostillery that served delicious home made ale and was promising some top notch entertainment of the gay kind.

The journey there was full of excitement and eager banter, we were out to have a good time..what fun!

Well......

The public house was dark and forboding...in the car park stood a team of what we call....scrubbers...was this the right place?

Anyhow we all entered and pushed our lithe gay bodies through the smell of chip fat into the main bar...was this the main bar or a waiting room at a local asylum?

I dont think I have ever been anywhere so repulsive...the place was described as 'friendly'...ye Gods it would have been more friendly if Atilla the Hun was behind the bar, assisted by the lovely Myra Hindley (Myra...thats a name you dont hear much these days)

Now on the floor was a lovely Axminster which I should think was laid down in....say...1955?
As we stood and ordered our gay refreshements we physically STUCK to the carpet...I mean...really STUCK.

In the back of the pub some scrubbers were getting ready to party as the DJ cranked up the gramaphone and the local punters stared at us in envy as we seemed to have all the right number of chromozones....and they needed some more for themselves.

We finished our delightful drinks and prized our feet from the Axminster and squelched to the door...where they had a machine that you could log a hate crime on....fuck they should have had a machine that connected you to the bloody Samaritans or better still Molly Maids.

Whats going on? Is this what passes for a suburban Gay pub these days....I might write to Peter Tatchell as this needs to be flagged up to Amnesty International STAT!

Well we moved on and found a much nicer place where we had some Ovaltines and enjoyed the rest of the evening despite being harrased by a couple who were intent on destroying what was left of their livers before going home to Wandsworth.

Houslow....never again.