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Saturday, August 05, 2006

With much excitement, I had the first ever edition of this shoved through my letterbox yesterday afternoon...

Like a Kemp Town Rag to a Bull
Kemp Town is the area of Brighton I call home, and it now has its own free magazine, which informs me that my neighbourhood was built by Thomas Kemp in an unspecified year for the simple reason that the houses in Brighton weren't grand enough for the elite of the time. Of course that was before they converted each house into sixteen flats and let the drug addicts move in, but even so, I feel quite special.

Page 2 of The Kemp Town Rag reproduces an article from Viz circa 1990 for no apparent reason, while page 5 introduces us to 'Queer Corner'. Which then runs for 8 pages. Of a 16 page magazine. But by far my favourite section has to be the Lonely Hearts page. I've read it and re-read it, and I still can't decide if it's meant to be a joke. But one of them gives out his mobile number, so maybe not. Anyhoo, aside from the "small attractive lesbian" who's looking for a long-term relationship, but specifies "must own flat/house with garden, preferably near the Royal County Hospital" (so less a lesbian, more a nurse looking for digs), the highlight for me is Dan, who starts by saying he'd like a Chinese female, and ends with the words "Any slanty eyed nationality considered". Are you allowed to say things like that?

Talking of Kemp Town residents, I feel I should respond to the lovely Marge from France, who's desperate to know Jimmy Somerville's address. Presumably because she's fed up with Homer. Unfortunately Marge, all I know is that he lives in Crescent Place. I don't know which number. And if I did, I wouldn't give it out for fear that people will write to him and mention me as their source. I don't want to get on the wrong side of the Somerville. He's tougher than he looks.

Carry On PrideBut that said, I'll probably bump into the man this morning, because today is Brighton Pride 2006. Or 'Gaytime' as Lisa's Mum likes to call it. I was supposed to be going round to see Lisa's uncle this morning and do some odd jobs, but he mysteriously cancelled on Thursday giving the excuse that there's cricket on the telly. I suspect the real reason is that he's leading a double life and wants to get out there in his leather hotpants and join the march, but I didn't like to say anything. Anyway, he's almost 80, so he wouldn't have heard me.

So instead of clearing out a pensioner's shed, Lisa and I are off to join the 120,000 people lining the streets to watch Brighton's gay community living it large. I don't like crowds, so I'm hoping it won't be busy.