Firstly - last night in King's Lynn. I have never found a more wretched hive of scum and villainy. We had to be cautious...
So, being the only Northern Outsider, my normally abhorrent visage that provokes revulsion amongst Normal Folk is a beacon of beauty to the backwater inbred behemoths!
"Are we human, or are we dancers" sang Howard Jones... well, In 'Lynn, sub-human chancers would be yer answer mate! In a town where octogenarian trolls in short shorts and halter tops need to be checked for ID, Xym is a veritable Adonis.
Whilst sat relaxing with a rehydrating beverage, approacheth the ambassador of the teenage siren with amorous intentions - alas, said Pretty fled in embarassment as her mate made enquiries about my singularity of status. Ah, the old skool "my mate proper fancies you, and I ain't even joking" betrayal of confidence.
Well, at least one person finds me desireable... even if my troll-like feature only appeal to the degenerate denizens of market towns.
But that was last night - today, my pheremonal fragrance is once again arousing homoeroticism stalkerage!
Wandering down the Royal Arcade, some fellow-me-lad flags me down. Once again my barnet has attracted admiration for it's fabulous follicle forest. Not only that, I was noticed the other day, as apparently my apparel caused admiration also.
And then I was subjected to another obsessive ranting on about worshipping the God Gary Numan. Do I like NiN? Cradle of Filth? What do you thing about Gary Numan? Oh, no-one loves Gary more than me!
So, like the now-legendary News Reporters, I made my excuses and left.
Only to come out of the Castle Mall toilets to find myself being stalked by Mr Numan once again! Luckily, no carrier bags for cottaging, but yet another lecture on the deity that is Numan, and the Pure gospel.
Honestly - Do I look gay or something? Hardly a night at The Whatacunt goes by where some bloke isn't hitting on me! OK, I've accepted the fact that Pretties find something inherently repulsive about me, and resigned myself to a life a solitude. But that doesn't give every gay in the village the right to try and spatula me!
That's it - I'm off clubbing in 'Lynn, where my fanny magnetism holds no bounds!
