It all started in 1967 when my mate Jimmy called my other mate, Tarquin, a poof, in the school dinner queue, aged 11. That was the first noted case of direct homophobia in the world. At which point I pointed out, over the sausage and chips trays, that ‘in 55 years time you’ll be arrested for saying that!!’ Because even then I knew that the world was destined to become a better place. A more inclusive place. A place where poofs are safe and protected from verbal and physical abuse. I also predicted that over those same 55 years, Spurs would become the greatest football team the world had ever seen, so I wasn’t infallible.

3 years later lesbians were invented, by another mate, Nigel, who had some pictures he found in a book under his big brother’s bed, which we all wanted to take home and in the end they got torn. And soiled.

And then it all became legal for ‘same sex partnerships’ and all went well. The Gays, as we were then to call them, and Lesbians joined together… in political ways, obviously, because together they were stronger, and were two sides of the same coin. So that was nice.

Later still the ‘bisexuals’ or (those who fucking want EVERYTHING!), joined the party. But it made kind of sense in a ‘freedom to choose’ kind of way. The ‘Bis’ were the pigs at the sexual buffet bar, but were tolerated by the gays and lesbians, so that was nice. Though then they needed to seriously start with acronyms. Because to get a t-shirt printed with ‘Lesbians, Gays and Bisexuals’ was getting expensive, at 22p per letter.

Later still, after an unusual alignment of Saturn with the constellation of Ursa Minor, loads of people decided to change their gender-of-birth. And we call them ‘trans’. Not as just a term of general abuse, but to indicate their desire, their need, their total compulsion to change sex. To ‘transition’. To be transsexual. To cross over from one gender or sex to another. They were allowed to join the acronym of ‘non-normal sexuality and other revolting deviations’ (as coined by Lieutenant Sir Romsworth Smythe, the late minister for Gender issues under Edward Heath; where Romsworth actually spent most of his government years). So we arrived at LGBT+.

But unfortunately, although these are all worthy, good and noble initials, they don’t all share precisely the same aims. So they fight. In fact they probably bitch-fight. Lots of slapping. Not in a very Will Smith kind’a way.

And so the eagerly anticipated LGBT+ international conference, set for June in the UK, has been called off. Given the opportunity to actually do some good in the ‘non-cis’ world, they’d rather get embroiled in petty nit-picking, terminology-definition arguments and political nonsense than actually use the conference as a platform to advance all causes towards equality.

The government had banned ‘conversion courses’. Which are a horrible idea, redolent of some bible-bashing Methodist from Omaha, in which anyone with gender issues can be ‘converted back’ to heterosexuality. With the help of Jesus. And a heavy stick. Then the government changed tack. And said these courses were still banned for use on gays and lesbians, but NOT on trans people, who should be encouraged to return to use the public toilets they would have used before they started wearing dresses and wigs.

So the conference is boycotted. And off.

But there are many issues which would have been so important to discuss. Like the case of Emily Bridges, the cyclist. When he… errrr… she… hmmmm… when Emily was a man, he was a very competitive cyclist, won medals in men’s events. Now… she’s a woman, and has lower testosterone levels to almost prove it, she wants to compete in her chosen sport as her chosen gender. Is this fair? Answers on a postcard to:

Fairness in sport vs Fairness in sexuality
Someone’s gotta give
All end in tears
LG3 5BT+

Happy Saturday

A xxxx