Hello, you don't know us, but we know you. Call us Rubbish Gay. Readers may not be aware but on the 9th of February 2002, things changed for the UK fag. For it was on this day Will Young won Pop Idol. This crowning of a new queen ushered in a new era for the UKgay. It was finally cool to be gay again. Thank fuck. The lesbian chic movement already old and tired by this point, rolled over and died, and the gays went mainsteam. Churchill once said 'the price of freedom is eternal vigilance'. How true. For every Will Young and Alan Cumming, there is an Andrew from Phixx or a David Furnish. From this spent seed on yesterdays jizz rag, PC access and time on our hands, an idea was born.
Way back in yesterqueer, the day after yestergay, September 2003 Rubbish Gays spunked forth online. Starting more in the 'look at this twat on Gaydar' vein, we soon realised our mission was to hold up a dark mirror to the actual and the media gay. Having tackled such weighty issues as wanking over Brookside, crap gay tattoos and faulty poppers tops, we are glad to finally be seen in print. This fag rag you have in your hands will be our 1st published work. Keep it in your toilet and once read, use to wipe your arse. Shitriture!!
we have been long in the tooth for many a year Rubbish gays has always strived to be be bad so you don't have to be. Since September 2003 we have carved out our own niche online. Our dirty crack can be found at http://rubbishgays.blogspot.com/.
To buisness gents!! The Gay Sauna!! Tradinionally we at Rubbish Gays have always looked down upon the gay sauna, only for old men and perverts, we thought. However something happened on the way to Heaven, blame the drugs, the high gay-youth turn over, or even Kylie, but now everyone is at it. It seems you don't have to be a pervert to visit the bathhouse (but that still helps). Now Mr E Gay is no prude, but we do get nervous in public. Hence our hesitance to visit the bathhouse in the past. That coupled with the inability to say no kept us at an cocks length away for many a moon. What if we are spotted being bummed by a minger? What if.....?
So how after all these years of rejection could we be turned to the dark side, humiliation in a white towel?? Blame Gaydar!! As irritating as the Crazy Frog, any homo on a PC will be drawn like slack jawed yokels by the promise of 'What you want, when you want it'. Normally what we want is light banter, and offers of drugged up sessions. What we get is offers of a cock suck 40 miles away, a drunken bottom or annoying rent boys filling up the java with their slaver.
After an hour in the 'chat room' using the bio-line 'HUNG/VERS 4 SAME WILL TRAVEL 4 CHEMS', we got our third offer, the first two were vile and ignored. 'Come to the sauna, I'll pay you in' hmmmm, like a dirty jigsaw, all the pieces were coming together. So in the name of research, powered by 3 different types of drugs, and armed with our'Get Into Sauna Free' promise, 20 cigarettes and five Britsh pounds we embarked.
Fast forward to us looking uncomfortable in a white towel. Our new Gaydar pal now £18 poorer, but looking much better than his profile, shows us round the sauna. The first thing we see is a fat man in a hot tub, on his own, poppers on the side. Theres a smell, we don't like it. Onward to the lounge. There a motley selection of men, some passed out, some watching Samantha Mumba's Time Machine, others on PCs logged into....Gaydar. So far, no graphic sex requested nor sighted. Damn!! We thought this may happen.
Our guide then takes us through to the actual 'sex' bit. He says there are cabins, themed rooms, widescreen porn and decent music. Well this sounded too good to be true, it was. Lead like a pig on a rope, we followed. There was a room with lots of men wanking, themselves, hmmm. Followed by endless (K not withstanding) succession of tunnels, leading to a couple of slings in the dark. As we stood there, in silence, we realised the slings were occupied, we backed off, Mr E Gay said a prayer. Passing a dark room, we could only see a few white towel blobs moving about. Seems a 'dark room' is just that, but maybe smells more of poppers. For cabin, read shed with wipe-clean matress, porn and a faulty lock. Theme rooms?? What the fuck?? How is scary dentist a theme?
Our tour compleate, Mr E Gay and his trade retired for a bit of cabin fever. Just like the film of the same name, it was poor. It looked good but felt wrong, so wrong. After a brief (no more than 3 inch) incursion into our tour guides arse, it was all over. He was fit, but off his head. We weren't off our head enough. Taking the lead we left for a cigarette. We were alone. Stranded at the Drive-In, etc. We stumbled around aimlesy for an hour like Hellen Keller on acid, only able to make out either tattoos or/and bling on dimley lit skinhead types. With our mojo either not working or not caring, we slipped past the whale in his own juices (hot tub man), and fucked off.
Any conclusions? Still not sure what the fuss is about. The gay sauna is just one new arena for rubbish gays to feel unfortable in. Previously in the clubs, we didn't mind muscle queens, especially if our trainers were better than theirs. Stripped of our pants and footwear and faced with these same spunk/hunks we know we are as good as them, but it doesn't feel it. Curse this puny frame!!
Being and living a Rubbish Gay comes naturally to us. As it does to many of you. We like casual sex, good pop music, recreation drugs and even Colin & Justin, whatever they are on. We know there are more of you out there. We accept our place, normally looking down on you. Trust us, its easier that way. Amen.
We thank you.
[Rubbish TV on: Trisha - ITV2 - ]
