Human Rights Or Human Wrongs?

Reading the news today, I see the 'Human Rights Activists' banging on about the infringement of such, regarding the hanging of Saddam Hussein.

Does anyone automatically have the right to live?

Or should that be earned by...

A) Should they wish to go it alone, the individual's determination to survive?

B) Should they wish to be part of a society, the individual's determination to survive, contribution to that society as best they can and a lack of desire to keep killing members of it (because that one really pisses people off!)?

And as for 'inhumane', what does that mean?

A) According to the HRA, anything that they find distasteful.

B) In real life, anything outside the purview of human imagination when it comes to that fundamental axiom, 'self preservation'. Or, in other words, not a bloody lot!

Maybe the expression would be more accurately presented as 'insocietous' and let's leave 'inhumane' for creatures that aren't actually human?

I'd be interested in what people have to say about that.

Apologies to my small but growing army of bum chums out there, will get back to the more serious issues of willies (pun intended) and botties in the next post!

On The Fourth Day Of Christmas, My True Love Gave To Me...

Four calling birds, if you ever did!
Now what use would that be to me?
To be honest, I think I would rather have had socks or, maybe, some nasty smelling bath salts.

Can't wait until tomorrow, though!

The Queens' Speech.

The Magnanimity Of Equanimity.

It is on this one special day, each year, that we should all put aside our intolerances, hatred and emotional shielding, and lay ourselves bare to our fellow man (women too, if you must!).

With this thought in mind, we can, perhaps, find some balance in our lives, some peace in our hearts and experience true love and appreciation of all life!

But please don't get too carried away with it, as a lot of you will be expected back at work, at some point, and with that attitude, you'll get absolutely bugger all done!

Merry Christmas!

Justin.

PS. There ya go, Mrs Potts, not one mention of willies, bums, canabis or gay love, let alone the likes of 'anal fisting' and 'hedgehog felching'! It can be done, y'know!

Goosey, Goosey, Ganja.

Well I can't believe the cheek of some people (if you'll pardon the pun), but, at little soirrée at a friends place last night, this awful woman, who'd smoked a fair bit of cannabis, would not stop mauling me about.
I think she was trying to 'cure' me!
If, indeed, there was any trace of heterosexuality in me, I'd say that it's gone now.
And when I told her that, without her make-up, she'd look quite manly and I might then be interested, all of a sudden I was the bad guy!

Some people are just a bit too touchy for their own good, I think!

One In The Eye For The 'Straight' Guy!

Gracious me!
I do seem to be popular with the homophobes.
Not that I'm complaining, mind you. Far from it.
The popular and widely held belief is that homophobia stems from years of conditioning by a general, public attitude that same sex relationships can never result in procreation and thus, are deviant and useless.
While that may be true in principle, in my experience, pretty much everyone I've ever met has, in one way or another, displayed some sign of homosexuality, varying from very slight to quite extreme.
Also, in my experience, it's often the ones with stronger 'gay tendancies' that tend to bemoan homosexuality the most, in a huge effort of self denial, never stopping for a moment to wonder why they love to watch a bunch of scantily clad, lithe and muscular men running around a pitch, rejoicing when they knock a ball into someone else's hole and frequently hugging eachother.
Enjoying rugby, of course, would be taking this self denial to a considerably higher plane!

Who, among you, would deny that the vast majority of sexual encounters are purely recreational and have nothing to do with procreation at all?

So why all the fuss?

Come on chums, if you really want to be 'straight', be straight with yourselves and admit that 'gay bashing' doesn't diminish your urge to pop it in his bottie, one bit!

It's yourself that you're beating up, not him!

The Clap Clinic.

I've been to some peculiar venues in my time but a workgroup where you are taught how to clap in time/rhythm with a crowd, to music, THAT has to claim some sort of prize.
Those Brighton Bum Boffins seem to have every angle covered!
Still, it was all good fun and I now feel confident in my ability to applaud any band in a way that, in all likelyhood, would freak them out.
And it's not as easy as it sounds.
In fact, a fair few of the attendees couldn't manage it at all, opting to sit there scratching their respective (but, I suspect, not respected) crotches instead.

Zeus's willy, I love Brighton!

Brighton Sonny.

As a bit of a pre-Christmas treat, I thought I'd go and visit a few chums in Brighton for the weekend (and you can bet your bottom dollar that I'll be coming back with a weakend, too).
Second only to Birchington, Brighton has the highest gay/straight ratio in the Country and promises to be a fun packed trip. Fudge too, for that matter.
I'm sure I'll have lots to tell you when I get back, unless, of course, I manage to pull one of those (many) gay cabinet ministers again, a coy bunch that prefer their lovers to be tight-lipped (a strange concept among gay men), in which case I'll have to make something up.

But I'm sure it'll make interesting reading for the plethora of 'closets' that make up a good part of Thanets' population, all the same!

Dave The Dragon.

One of the things that I love about hanging out in gay bars is some of the extraordinary people that you meet in them.
Last night, whilst indulging in my CTM (Coke, Tia Maria and Malibu) in The Sea View (where all the rough gays in Birchington gather), I was approached by a darkly handsome, lean and muscular fella called Dave.
Dave, who's a travelling double glazing rep., suffers the most hideous halitosis that I've ever encountered outside of an entire biker convention. Every time he spoke, I thought I was going to vomit and how he ever manages to sell windows to people, Freddie Mercury alone knows!
They're probably happy to just sign up and get rid of him.
But he had an unusual claim to fame, insofar as his ability to light his burps. And trust me, it was quite a thing to behold! He went on to explain that years of hot curries and gay love (not a pleasant combination in my book) had messed his insides up, and left him with a unique way of lighting peoples' cigarettes for them.
Very impressive indeed.

Needless to say, I went home on my own!

Gays In Church.

As planned, I wiggled my butt over to Ramsgate last night, hitting the seafront like a battering ram, on a silver/black phantom bike.
Sorry, lapsed into a bit of a gay song, there!
Much as I like the harbour, it ain't all that in the winter and that wind cuts through you like scissors, sisters. So I decided to take my lushness up to Churchills.

How long has that place been a gay pub, then???

The whole pub was electrified with an atmosphere of gay love! I was particularly taken by the hunk behind the bar (or would have like to have been, at least ). He was as bent as a choirboy, you could see that in his eyes and his posture! I'd be pretty sure that the stocky landlady is inclined towards drinking from the furry cup, too!

Wow!!!

May have to visit a little more frequently.

Hot Chocolate Star, Fish.

About once a month, I like to 'haul my ass' over to Ramsgate, just for a bit of a change. I used to go there regularly to hang out in The Earl St. Vincent when it was a gay pub but these days, I find it has little to offer in that respect. Still, bearing in mind my tender condition at the moment, I thought that a little 'bottie holiday' this weekend would be appropriate.
I remember the fun that I had the last time I ventured south and how I almost scored with someone very famous, indeed. His name was Steve and, although he looked like someone that the pikeys would reject for being a tad too scruffy, his claim to fame was that he played in the notorious gay band, Hot Chocolate!
I'm no groupie but a bit of famous cock is not to be sniffed at (well his certainly wasn't, I'm sure)!
After a bit of fishing, though, I came to realise that this sweetie was not only as straight as a die but also almost as homophobic as The Thanet Blog List, though, having said that, and now that they turn out to be 'not homophobic at all', you'd better go here instead!
I tried some of my best lines on him, like "Where you from, you sexy thing?" and "What kind of boy you looking for, girl?" and "Put your love in me", at which point he called me a wanker and walked off.

I never thought it would end like this. Serves me right for believing in miracles, I suppose. Disco Queen, my arse!

Blog Block.

I'm not so sure about these new 'Google accounts', girls.
When it comes to posting comments, I seem to be able to stick the odd one in Fannies but, for the life of me, I can't stick anything in Richards or that old fellas (I wonder if his carpet smells of wee?), at all.
Now I'm not asking anyone to bend over forwards to help me, but if someone could just put a tip in, I'd be soooooo grateful.

Just so you lovely ladies know, I'm not ignoring you, honestly!

Large, Soft Stool.

Birchington's secret gay club, The Minnis, was the place to be, last night!
With their funky lighting (I still can't see properly, even now) and funky band, you could say I was feeling properly funked up at the end of the evening!
But the créme de la créme has to be their seating. Great big, comfortable leather chairs and stools.
I was in arse heaven!
Which was just what the doctor ordered, after the pounding that my poor old pooper has recieved of late.
Speaking of doctors, Samuel had some good hints and tips and advised me that I should use liberal amounts of calamine lotion (to help relieve the chaffing) and lighter petrol (to shrink things back into shape).
Guess I won't be lighting my farts for a while!
And to top it all, bless his sweet heart, he said there wouldn't be any charge for my consultation as he was happy just to have the chance to keep his hand in!

Hot Date!

I'll be off down to The Minnis tonight, Birchingtons' secret gay bar, for a wild evening out with one of my regular boyfriends. The Fat River Band are going to be funking the place up and it all shows promise of being a 'blistering' evening.
I'd love to tell you who he is but, as he's married with kids AND a high-flying pillar of the community, I don't think that'd be fair on him. Mind you, I happen to know that his wife is getting some from the milkman but I'm pretty sure that he doesn't know, so the less said about that, the better!
I really don't like the idea of keep referring to him as 'that bloke' though, so let's call him Samuel.
Anyway, Samuel is a doctor of proctology and WOW!!!, does he know his stuff!
It's fortuitous that I'm meating him tonight, as I'd like to discuss a problem with him that'll be right up his alley. Ever since all those shenanigans with Horse the other night, I've been walking like John Wayne and my poor old love socket is like a clown's pocket.

I'm sure he'll know how to rectumfy matters.

Christie's Whine Bar.

One of my absolute favourite Gay Bars in Thanet's Gay Capital is Christie's. There's always such a sweet crowd and I rarely fail to pull.
There is one delish young fella that gets in there, though, who's a bit of a tough nut to crack. But I like to have a stab, all the same. Whenever I try to chat him up, the conversation on his side is always peppered with 'my girlfriend this' and 'my girlfriend that'.
I think he's either a tightwad, as he never takes her out, or he's fibbing about the whole thing.
Whenever I talk to him, I'll put my hand on his thigh, stroking it gently and he never tries to remove it. He shakes with excitement, his face flushes and he looks around, furtively, like he's about to be discovered as the raving bender that he is, though.

He's absolutely gagging for it!

As I often find, it's only a matter of time with anyone!

Splitting Head Ache.

There are a few good gay bars in Birchington, which is one of the reasons why I believe the place to be the gay capital of Thanet. And it was in one of those pubs that I met a sweetheart called Horse, last night.
We chatted and laughed and when they played Abba, we danced and laughed some more. As they called last orders I invited him back to my place. What a catch, I thought!
But with every catch, there's a catch, it seems.
The name 'Horse' didn't quite do him justice but I think 'Sperm Whale' might have!

The flat is in a right old mess this morning and I think he may have dislocated one of my hips!

Who Wants To Be A Million Hairs?

As is the current trend with other blogs to include a photo of the author, I figured I should do the same.

So, in all my finery, here I am.

Life's A Bummer!

Always looking for a hole to fill, I think I've found a big one here in Thanet, in the shape of gay blogs.
Now I know that bum love is quite a touchy subject, generally, and that those that indulge are often shunned by society. I'm hoping, by creating a little niche where this behaviour is perfectly acceptable, to provide an outlet for gays across the island and, in particular, here in Birchington, the gay capital of Thanet!
Looking around the isle's other blogs, I get the strong notion that this blog will be a useful tool for a good portion of Thanet bloggers to express their true inclinations.

Come on boys and let's spread the good turd!