|Diary entries - 16|
|Not the South China Morning Post
|Hello Sweetie darlings,
Here we are in the year of the Tiger in this glorious ex colony of ours, isn’t it fabulous darlings at this time of the year with locals being soooo polite and charming, you’d be forgiven thinking that you are in a different and or friendly country. But that will all change within the next few days when the people you work with, or those people who are the ’security guards’ in your apartment and office buildings etc realise that you are NOT going to give them Lai-si Oh dear it’s then back to reality, sour faces, and best of all, no more endless FINAL REDUCTION sales.
Your dear columnist decided the other Friday evening to stagger up the hill of Lan Kwai Fong to have a ‘cheap’ bottle or two of stolly before the 10 o’clock closing time of Club 97 . Club 97 is located, as many of you well know, in the middle of the ex-patriot drinking area. It takes considerable care and attention not to be spotted by those people who don't know that you are gay and who are supping their drink out on the pavement where you have to pass.
A favourite trick of mine in this regard is to go past each bar, look in to see if there are any such people in the vicinity, if there are and they spot you “Oh Patsy, what are you doing here?’ “Oh I’ve come to meet some people for a drink and I can’t remember if it was this bar or the next one… bye “ It’s worked for me for quite a long time now.
Once you’ve got past all the obstacles and removed your crampons there you are in seventh heaven a gay watering hole which is open early. Well even if the price still is almost 25% more than other establishments in the same area, well who cares, I mean to say we are special people and therefore deserve, quite rightly, to be ripped off once a week in such establishments. Mind you there is always a solitary plate of fried chicken wings which is whisked in front of the patrons, something that no other such establishment offers which must of course force the prices up !
The entertainment in such places is quite well worth the hike up the hill and the exorbitant prices and the entertainment happens to consist of oneself observations, ie. observing the patrons of such. Let’s catagorise them shall we :-
THE MUSCLE MARY Is missing one night of the gym to come to this place to be seen, drinks mineral water, dresses in tight tank-top type clothes, hair perfect and gelled, hangs around with other of the same ilk and has attitude with a capital A.
THE WALLET has his 20 year junior boyfriend clutching to his arm, drinks Gin and tonics in copious amounts, dresses in normal ex-pat clothes which he wouldn’t be able to afford in his own country, hair… yes well what’s left of it, has a gregarious laugh and talks AT everyone around him. And of course his BOYFRIEND drinks one beer and then drinks fizzy water (just so he can remember what his other half has said all night in his drunken stuper) , dresses as fashionably and outrageously as his boyfriends budget allows, hair is swish and normally has a slight tint, hangs and hangs and hangs onto his boyfriend and doesn’t try to enter any conversation.
THE PASSPORT is similar to the Wallet above, but normally drinks beer, dresses in trendy well co-ordinated expensive clothes that he could afford back in his own country, short well trimmed hair and has flirtive looks at anything with legs. His BOYFRIEND drinks anything, dresses in a similar fashion to the Passport and hangs around with a large group of people.
FRESH QUEEN Type a. Having just arrived into the country is ready to change diet to asian rice, drinks Vodkas rather cautiously, has very expensive clothes of which he most probably did buy in his own country but are totally un-coordinated, has a flauncy hair do – normally with a touch of perm, is on the prowl and chats to anything 30 years his junior.
FRESH QUEEN Type b. Is on the prowl for any type of dish, drinks beer in moderation, wears what fell out of the wardrobe, unkept hair, stands alone looking at all in sundry and tries to get into the rhythm of the music but the arthritis is killing him.
FRESH MEAT. Oh lah lah, Now these fal into many catergories, but more generally the country of origin depicts their habits and I will only list a few of whom I’ve been in contact with in the last few nights
French. Always dress well, drink in moderation, bi-lingual in one language, always have attitude. Traits, Crabs !
German. Dresses in Germen clothing but with hideous shoes and white socks , good looking and good body, wants to get laid but won’t admit so and ends up with rice. Traits : Cockrings (appear to be an essential item)
ENGLISH Dress in brown, drink any and everything too excess, tries to get off with anything mentioned above depending on how much they’ve had to drink, will either sleep with rice OR are so pissed that they have to get poured into a taxi and doesn’t remember a thing.
AUSTRALIANS Big arses, drink beer, clothes… well yes…, loud mouthed, really would like to sleep with Potatoes but due to lack of personality always end up sleeping with rice, have attitude with BIG CAPITAL A and are prissy. Traits: love trying to look butch , but not much there.
Italians Dark and sultry, drink one glass of wine, gelled black hair, dresses in clothes which look absolutely FABULOUS on him – but shit on YOU, labels on clothes all end with an ‘O’, lots of aftershave but poor personal hygiene. Traits : toilet paper stuck where it shouldn’t be.
Americans Anally retentive due to their sporty dress, drink little, incapable about talking about anything other than america. Traits. Not built like their porno movies, dirty talk during sex as opposed to their actual action in bed.
Locals : Extraterrestrial looking, , bulimia , ungelled hair- just naturally greasy, always wears black, head revolving like a radar just in case something with dosh walked into the bar . Traits: well who really cares, have a five finger shuffle and pull your own nighty down.
Well sweetie darlings, it’s taken me all week to write this article, it is almost time again to walk up the hill and get noticed, once again… hopefully by the Peruvian stud who is visiting our shores again.