The three men stood almost blocking the toilet door. I pushed past them on my way to the urinal. The men were presumably method actors hamming it up in preparation for the drug dealer role in a shit Channel 5 drama.
"I'll sort you out if you sort me out." etc, plus lots of macho posturing.
My favourite regular (of this grubby late night bar) walked in and stood beside me. In mid flow, he snorted with derision then muttered "oh for fuck's sake..." in the direction of the faux hoodlums. There was a wonderful lightness of touch to his remonstrations. As I left he was still grumbling and quietly shaking his fist.
Do we have a real kynic sitting right under our very noses, dispensing his critique of absurd hypermasculinity with flaccid penis gently grasped twixt finger and thumb?
Wednesday, July 25, 2007
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