I just got back from two weeks in Ibiza. I hate the sun, but for some daft reason - habit, lust, the boys are so gorgeous - I go each year. After Spanish TV, I was ready for anything I could understand on British TV. I always find that the most interesting programmes are on very late, when most civilised people are sleeping. Does Channel 4 know that insomniacs are mostly homosexual? I found myself glued to this genius programme called Sex BC. Apparently, women were once rampantly free sexual spirits until people started to build permanent settlements. Then men realised that owning and trading women was more useful than owning and trading bearskins. They could cook, clean and create more children to tend the land. The prettiest daughters could be traded to create further comfort and security. This put a stop to extramarital activities, which were common before morality reared its ugly head. It also made same-sex relations bad for business.
Following Sex BC, there was an equally riveting programme about gay animals. The late Baroness Young, who so opposed the lowering of the age of gay consent, was tricked into watching a video of male animals doing unspeakable things to each other. A pair of stocky male buffalos were seen humping like Earls Court queers high on amyl nitrate. Two female chimps then started rubbing their clitorises together and screeching madly. "I had no idea that animals were involved in such activities," the baroness said. Scott Capurro, the host, asked if children should be allowed to watch this obviously natural activity. "Wholly unsuitable," she said.
I discussed these programmes with my assistant Paul the next morning. He's straight and didn't see the point of debating whether animals were queer or not. I suspect he saw it as another attempt on my part to find something queer in everything, and he's right. I told him it was interesting because these animals also had sex with female ones, and perhaps this proved that, even though humans had cultivated heterosexuality, it was probably just as natural for them to be bisexual. He came up with some clever response about creating children. I agreed that the argument for procreation was strong, but many natural functions are connected. Like eating and defecating, but no one eats with the desire to shit. "Yes, but women turn me on, and men don't," Paul replied. "Have you ever been turned on by the motion of a bus?" I asked. He had. "Well, perhaps Baroness Young should have looked into that, because school kids spend a lot of time on them and who knows what the wider consequences are." Paul rolled his eyes and carried on reading the paper and probably wondered how he got involved with someone as wilfully loopy as me.
Hoping it would get me off the subject of bent chimps and rampant red buses, he started talking about Dr Kelly, the Labour Party and the BBC. He knows that I am a keen conspiracy theorist. "I wouldn't be surprised if he was bumped off," I said. If the government can lie about leading the country to war, then surely anything's possible. Just then, I heard the radio saying the government had released a report claiming that GM crops presented a very low risk to human health, and that it would decide by December whether to allow them to be grown here. If it does, I shall lead a strident campaign against it. Obviously, Tony Blair has forgotten my outburst at the Brit Awards some years back. "Hands off our vegetables, Mr Blair," I shouted. But what chance does an insignificant vegetable or grain of wheat have against a government that will do just about anything to get its way?
I fear we will need all our strength if Labour is booted out at the next election. We will need to eat as much dark green cabbage and healthy grains as possible, because things could get ugly. Baroness Young's successors will probably bring in a law to segregate gay sheep, and London Zoo will turn into a prison camp with separate cages for bent buffaloes and dyke chimps. Trust me, I was a pink sheep long before it was fashionable.
Boy George will star in the musical Taboo on Broadway from December