Where the evangelical must stay

Advice for a Christian visiting gay-friendly Brighton plus the woman who wonders if she is a witch

Dear Marina,

I will shortly be visiting the gay capital of the UK, Brighton. On looking for a place to stay for a few nights I noticed a couple of websites had a small note 'Gay friendly'. Now I'm not a homophobe but I am an evangelical Christian and don't want to put myself in any danger, if you know what I mean. Should I avoid sleeping at such places? None of the B&Bs or hotels have been advertised as 'Straight friendly', perhaps you could recommend a few? Or should I come and stay with you, you pagan minx?

Love Bruno, Hampton

Jesus wept man. Surely all that happy clapping you subject yourself to has strengthened your resolve against any preternatural urges you may be harbouring. Get out your tambourine and start bashing. This will surely give you the strength to overcome the dangers of temptation.

Should a blast of Stand Up For Jesus fail, however, all is not lost. Indeed as I understand it your belief system thrives on the cycle of temptation, sin, repentance confession and redemption. A spot of flagellation isn’t out of the question either – which could prove popular in the bijou B& Bs of Brighton. Yes Bruno, it’s a win win situation.

I am sorry to say that staying with me is quite out of the question. What with rising interest rates and energy prices I’ve had to sublet all available space – unless you want to sleep in the bath or on top of the piano – but having surfed the net myself I have a couple of suggestions.

Try Paskins Hotel 18/19 Charlotte Street, Brighton, East Sussex, BN2 1AG Tel: +44(0)1273 601203 Fax:+44(0)1273 621973. I’m sure they’re not fussy about sexual orientation but they do care about the environment – as will any hotel or B&B carrying the Green Tourism Business Scheme mark.

It’s what Jesus would have wanted. . .

Dear Marina,

I loathe giving my boyfriend oral sex, but I love receiving it from him. He thinks it should be reciprocal. What should I do?

Tongue-tied in Taunton

Swallow hard and indulge him. It’s only fair.

Dear Marina

With new PM Brown, I find myself in a crisis of political disorientation. New Labour died, the Tories come off as wannabe hip grandparents, and the LibDems, well they don't want to compromise and as charming as Ming is - he is a bit old. Is my disorientation justified or am I merely apathetic?

David, Lincolnshire

Apathetic I’d say. If you could be bothered you might acknowledge the tentacles of power that are politics reach far beyond clichés of old leaders, image makeovers and party branding.

Peel yourself off the sofa and go find out who represents you locally. Go beyond that to link with campaigners who can make a difference not only to your community but hey, the wider world as well.

I admit it’s difficult. I mean even our prime minister knows we need to engage people – and then at the first opportunity veers off into a debate on the West Lothian question: deemed by the man on the Clapham Omnibus as about as relevant to his life as the Off Side rule at a Mothers Union conference.

But so long as at least two English MPs sit between the Scots and their goals, no offence will be committed. Which is a shame really, since the Scots have no tuition fees, provide free care for the elderly and use proportional representation for elections. Hence a better class of parliamentarian I believe.

Dear Marina

Help I think I might be a witch. At times of the full moon I feel completely out of character and get a bit manic. I'm a Capricorn, does this make a difference?

Spooked, West London

If you were a werewolf it might. Jonathan Caner reckons Capricorns are deeper than people think. So who knows?

Dear Marina

Since the smoking ban has come in i've been forced outside to smoke and have a Butt pouch to keep my fag ends in when I'm done. Problem is where do I keep the butt pouch on me? I have enough trouble finding pockets for mobile phone and wallet. Is it time for a manbag?

Confused
Isle of Man

Nope, it’s time to stop smoking. Well done by the way for being thoughtful enough to pick up your butts which pose a hazard to wildlife and look awful scattered on the ground.

Marina Pepper is a former glamour model turned journalist, author, eco-campaigner and Lib Dem politician. A councillor and former Parliamentary candidate, she lives near Brighton with her two children.
Why not e-mail your problems to askmarina@newstatesman.co.uk?
Steve Garry
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The footie is back. Three weeks in and what have we learned so far?

Barcleys, boots and big names... the Prem is back.

Another season, another reason for making whoopee cushions and giving them to Spurs fans to cheer them up during the long winter afternoons ahead. What have we learned so far?

Big names are vital. Just ask the manager of the Man United shop. The arrival of Schneiderlin and Schweinsteiger has done wonders for the sale of repro tops and they’ve run out of letters. Benedict Cumberbatch, please join Carlisle United. They’re desperate for some extra income.

Beards are still in. The whole Prem is bristling with them, the skinniest, weediest player convinced he’s Andrea Pirlo. Even my young friend and neighbour Ed Miliband has grown a beard, according to his holiday snaps. Sign him.

Boots Not always had my best specs on, but here and abroad I detect a new form of bootee creeping in – slightly higher on the ankle, not heavy-plated as in the old days but very light, probably made from the bums of newborn babies.

Barclays Still driving me mad. Now it’s screaming from the perimeter boards that it’s “Championing the true Spirit of the Game”. What the hell does that mean? Thank God this is its last season as proud sponsor of the Prem.

Pitches Some groundsmen have clearly been on the weeds. How else can you explain the Stoke pitch suddenly having concentric circles, while Southampton and Portsmouth have acquired tartan stripes? Go easy on the mowers, chaps. Footballers find it hard enough to pass in straight lines.

Strips Have you seen the Everton third kit top? Like a cheap market-stall T-shirt, but the colour, my dears, the colour is gorgeous – it’s Thames green. Yes, the very same we painted our front door back in the Seventies. The whole street copied, then le toot middle classes everywhere.

Scott Spedding Which international team do you think he plays for? I switched on the telly to find it was rugby, heard his name and thought, goodo, must be Scotland, come on, Scotland. Turned out to be the England-France game. Hmm, must be a member of that famous Cumbrian family, the Speddings from Mirehouse, where Tennyson imagined King Arthur’s Excalibur coming out the lake. Blow me, Scott Spedding turns out to be a Frenchman. Though he only acquired French citizenship last year, having been born and bred in South Africa. What’s in a name, eh?

Footballers are just so last season. Wayne Rooney and Harry Kane can’t score. The really good ones won’t come here – all we get is the crocks, the elderly, the bench-warmers, yet still we look to them to be our saviour. Oh my God, let’s hope we sign Falcao, he’s a genius, will make all the difference, so prayed all the Man United fans. Hold on: Chelsea fans. I’ve forgotten now where he went. They seek him here, they seek him there, is he alive or on the stairs, who feckin’ cares?

John Stones of Everton – brilliant season so far, now he is a genius, the solution to all of Chelsea’s problems, the heir to John Terry, captain of England for decades. Once he gets out of short trousers and learns to tie his own laces . . .

Managers are the real interest. So refreshing to have three young British managers in the Prem – Alex Neil at Norwich (34), Eddie Howe at Bournemouth (37) and that old hand at Swansea, Garry Monk, (36). Young Master Howe looks like a ball boy. Or a tea boy.

Mourinho is, of course, the main attraction. He has given us the best start to any of his seasons on this planet. Can you ever take your eyes off him? That handsome hooded look, that sarcastic sneer, the imperious hand in the air – and in his hair – all those languages, he’s so clearly brilliant, and yet, like many clever people, often lacking in common sense. How could he come down so heavily on Eva Carneiro, his Chelsea doctor? Just because you’re losing? Yes, José has been the best fun so far – plus Chelsea’s poor start. God, please don’t let him fall out with Abramovich. José, we need you.

Hunter Davies is a journalist, broadcaster and profilic author perhaps best known for writing about the Beatles. He is an ardent Tottenham fan and writes a regular column on football for the New Statesman.

This article first appeared in the 27 August 2015 issue of the New Statesman, Isis and the new barbarism