Hitting the gay skid

Today has allowed me to do some rigorous testing. This is, as you know, because of my Offer Which You Can't Refuse.

It is an all-expenses paid trip to South Africa, the only proviso is that you have to make your way there in my luggage.

With this in mind I have therefore been testing out my luggage to check reliability, durability and space.

Based on the evidence I have gathered, I think we're going to have to have another think about the size restriction.

Here are the results of my vigorous testing in a strict and controlled environment.

This first picture shows you (the smuggled, as modeled by me) assuming the most effective position.

This is pose we may have to adopt at the Virgin Atlantic check-in desk. All of these tests are based on the tried and trused assumption that if you can't see the airline crew, then they can't see you.

In this picture the optimism of our plan wanes slightly. As you can see - I am quite clearly visible in the suitcase.

I was thinking that the way we could get around this would be for me to buy a Burberry Check suitcase and then for you to dress in Burberry, thus integrating with the equipment seamlessly.

This photo above is purely to illustrate how ridiculous it would be if we were to try and smuggle you out in my hand luggage.

So, after the seriousness of This Offer we turn to something far more frivolous.
Note: irony.

A guy who I went to school with (hence him being 29 years old) has just come out of the closet. He announced it on his Facebook page (tacky, I know).

This is both brave and stupid. It is brave because well, for obvious reasons, but it is stupid too.

Stupid because he was seriously nasty to a lot of guys at school who were gay. And now he looks a bit silly.

He has genuinely come out because my friend saw him in Cape Town yesterday and confirmed that he is indeed now gay. Or gay-ish i.e. finds men attractive and wants to sleep with them.

I want to send him a message and don't really know what to say.

What does one say?

"Congratulations" or "oi, you fag - you were a pretty rude sonovabitch to some quite harmless people."

Maybe it's not my place to say those things, it's for the people he insulted to say them.

I was lucky and privileged (there's that ironic sarcasm again) to have gone to a private all-boys school so having guys come thundering out the closet is an annual event. Like the traditional rolling of the cheese in Wiltshire.

It's funny because each guy who's done it over the age of 25 has followed this exact pattern:

1/ Announce they're gay
2/ Hit the club / drug / Gaydar / sauna scene like a kid in a candy shop releasing years of pent-up homogay feelings
3/ Regret having done everything they did in point 2

We're going to call my new gay classmate Craig.

I am pretty sure that I will see Craig in hot pants, a leather harness and a feather boa, leading the pride-parade in Cape Town in February. Less than six weeks after announcing to the world that he's a homo.

It's encouraging and depressing in equal measure.

Encouraging because at least Craig can now be who he wants to be and sort his life out.

Depressing because he's just about to hit the gay "skid" and after all the drugs, bathhouse sex and Gaydar meets he's going to wake up one morning and think "I can't believe that this is what being gay is all about."

I won't mention this to him in the message though.