Music For The Jilted Generation

You have to save me from myself.

I had the curtains dry cleaned and I've been hanging them while listening to Boney M. Tell anyone and I'll kill you.

A CD of theirs was lurking in the rack and I thought I might as well rip it (?) onto the iPod. God knows why I have a fucken album of Boney M's Greatest Hits but I do.

Don't mock me... here goes:

"By the rivers of Babylon... where we sat down... eehee we wept when we remembered Zion..."

I hope I've got the bloody tune in your head now.

So speaking of swimming, yesterday Matt and I decided we would investigate the public pool near his hotel.

I've walked past it on the way to where he's staying and have wanted to know what it's like. Well, I actually suggested it because I'm intrigued but too scared to go on my own.

Firstly, to contextualise. This pool is right, slap, bang in the middle of London's West End. Imagine a public swimming pool one street behind Fifth Avenue in New York.

Secondly, what with me training to be an Olympic swimmer and Matt being able to swim, it's an activity we could both find productive.

So, being a facility that's run by Camden council (whose taxes rip me off every single month) and in a pretty urban area of Central London let's make a list of what it could potentially be like:

1/ Clean but smells of chemicals, like a school pool
2/ There will be at least one person using the shower to wash themselves and their clothes / various other belongings
3/ There will be elderly gay men who get free entrance only to hang around the changerooms
4/ There will be elderly women who get in for free, who have long grey hair and who paddle around and take up all the space.

Tick, tick, tick, tick.

We tried the pool inside but it was warm, like wee, so we went outside and it was cold and odd. Basically you're in a pool and all around you is concrete; office blocks and houses.

We got the creeps so we left. And didn't swim.

There was a huge man in a tiny Speedo completely spread-eagled on a table that he was using as a sun lounger. The view was disgusting.

Anyway, the rest of the evening was far more productive / fun / amazing.

No, there was none of that.

We went to see Hairspray.

Ohmygod... ohmygod...ohmygod....

In the final number, where the entire cast is dancing, smiling and singing at the top of their lungs, I burst into tears.

I am such a big, stinking over-emotional homo when it comes to musicals.

It was fun and camp and pointless and just brilliant.

At the end I didn't leap out of my seat to my feet like other homos did but after a while I did stand up and clap. And then I cheered. And my eyes watered a little more.

You know, we all get down and depressed and hate ourselves but for two hours I escaped all of that and sat in a darkened theatre as a whole bunch of people in silly costumers, tried their fucken hardest to put a smile on my face.

They so did it.

I can't describe the feeling when something that you weren't expecting, just so completely lifts your soul.

Like that moment in ET when Elliot and ET are in the bicycle being chased by the cops and suddenly the bicycle just lifts into the sky and you just want to punch the air and cheer.

That's how I felt.

I wanted to give each of the cast a huge big hug and a kiss. It is brilliant and I loved it. I absolutely loved it.

This morning I downloaded the opening number, Good Morning Baltimore from the film soundtrack and skipped all the way to the Tube station listening to it.

Give me a chance cause
When I start to dance I'm a movie star!
Oh, Oh, Oh...
Something inside of me makes me move
When I hear that groove.

My mom tells me no
But my feet tell me go
It's like a drummer inside my heart.

Don't hold me back cause today all my dreams will come true.

And there's no need to say it, I will...

Gay, gay, gay, Bobby you are so fucking gay.