Nope, it’s this one. This one is positively, definitely and absolutely the queerest poem I’ve ever written, I think.

Growing up “gay” (with the “gay” in air quotes)

I was bullied for being gay when the word, to me, was still unknown.
In fact, I was bullied for being gay before I was allowed to cross the road alone.
My sexuality was Airfix models, and Panini football stickers were my gender identity
And if I had a kink at that age, it was ‘Buck Rogers in the 25th Century’.

It’s true, when I watched Star Wars I did not lust over Princess Leia’s gold bikini
And yes, I had a same sex fantasy, but only on the playground pretending to be Michel Platini
Although I do admit to growing up “confused”, as I heard older people say
I was actually confused by all the things I was told were “gay”.

Mum bought you a pink t-shirt?
Gay.

Crying because your knee is hurt?
Also gay.

Sometimes you write poetry?
That would make you gay.

And you like girls, I see?
That’s definitely gay.


It is true that, growing up in the north, you were likely to be called gay if you spent time with girls while you were of junior school age. Because that’s like, so gay. You also need to know that Michel Platini is a bloke, one of the finest footballers ever produced, for that ‘gag’ to work.

Shame he turned out to be a bit of a knob.


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