Maybe if we pretend enough it won't happen.
Let's just pretend it's not going to happen. Imagine! Imagine if you forgot to do it when you first got your internet! Imagine getting home drunk and horny from a night out, looking forward to settling down in bed with your laptop, a packet of crisps, and some nice facial cumshots, only to be greeted by a big pixelated red shield. Right, so, David Cameron's bringing in some sort of rule about porn, where you'll have to ring your internet provider and opt in to having it. I can't help thinking that if I'd conducted myself a little differently at house parties, maybe had sex with a few more DJs, it might have been ME being a fancy bitch with Iggy Azalea. There was such a brief, intense confluence in our lives. Like, why wasn't it me in that We Found Love video instead of that hot black model with the peroxide hair? How the hell did Suki Waterhouse get her grubby little mits on Bradley Cooper, why wasn't it me? Why does Emilia Clarke get to be Daenerys, why wasn't it me? But never has it been more pronounced than with Charli XCX. I'm sure I speak for most us when I say I get MAJOR fame envy for a lot of people. Personally I miss her experimental electro Camden Sainsburys vibe. It's a rap about a girl she hated at school and it's brilliant. It was back when she only had a few thousand views on Soundcloud, and did stuff like this. She was fresh from the rolling hills of Hertfordshire, a nice middle-class grammar school girl with nothing but a synthesizer and a reasonable fashion sense. By "friends" I mean we ended up at a few of the same parties in Camden Town's grottiest student digs (see above image), and we once trawled around that big Sainsburys together at 7 o'clock on a Sunday morning, wearing sunglasses and asking wary employees whether you could buy Red Stripe as an individual can or only as a four-pack. But mine would get slammed for portraying gay men in a negative, hedonistic, sex-crazed light, and would end the careers of Jamie Campbell-Bower, Mykki Blanco and Paris Lees, who I would cast as the three lead roles.
#Amerie 1 thing polkadot remix tv
Which is fine, that's totally what I'd do if Channel 4 commissioned me to write a TV show.
It's Russell T Davis' love letter to himself, his life and his friends. They'll still let us keep our marriage rights after they watch Cucumber. I don't mind the UK's heterosexual masses thinking all gay people are like the gentle, grinning souls on Cucumber, because they come across as harmless, friendly and boring. Still there's some explicit-ish sex references, so it's good he doesn't shy away from that. It shows too in the slightly tired cultural references and stilted, awkward jokes Tom Daley? Grindr? Russell, it's not 2014 babe. A bunch of middle-aged men sitting around in a nice pub in Next jumpers, drinking £4 pints and perving harmlessly over the barman. The show's main character, the long suffering, BMW driving, suit wearing Kylie fan Henry is Russell, I have absolutely no doubt about that. The point is, Russell T Davis has written about the world he knows. And good on them! Maybe if that were me I'd survive past 30, which at the moment is looking very doubtful. It's a show for the gay men who watch Great British Bakeoff and drink Yorkshire Tea and have cars and nice jobs in human resources or digital marketing. To me Cucumber is not edgy or ground-breaking. I don't really eat food, I have sex with men who look like murderers and the last time I spoke to someone who wasn't a drag queen was about a year ago. I am actually really weird and don't exist like a real person. Perhaps the cultural zeitgeist is in such flux right now that the sociopolitical milieu has already changed in the six weeks since episode 1 came out (I mean, a lot's happened Katie Price won Celebrity Big Brother, The Joiners Arms shut and Charli XCX released an album).īut I think it was mainly down to the fact that I didn't identify with it because I am, by no means, a typical gay man. Perhaps over the past few weeks it's been so hyped that expectations would have been impossible to live up to. But I was also sure that I would be let down and scathing at Russell T Davis' portrayal of what he thinks it means to be gay in 2015. It's the same reason I harbour sneering dislike for Beyonce, G-A-Y Late and Topman. My refusal to watch it stemmed partly from my instinctive, arrogant rejection of anything mainstream. Complete with actions, and different voices for the characters. It's the final submission to weeks of pop-culture peer pressure, culminating last night in London drag queen Sandra regaling me with an almost word-for-word synopsis of episode 6 in the back of a taxi. So, I've finally caved in and watched Episode 1 of Russell T Davis' much lauded gay comedy-drama Cucumber.
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