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Didn’t go to the Mardi Gras on Hackney Marshes, sfd, (derailed by Rothkoid) but Gorgeous Ganesh and I did attend the Pride march.
Numbers, I know not, but they seemed respectable. Certainly a lot more folks than we can muster for Scottish Pride! And the sun shone too.
My highlights were:
*the motorcycle cops checking out the route beforehand, an attractive appetiser in black leather, immune to the wolf-whistling queens
*the Bollywood extravaganza of the bhangra-pumping NAZ float
*the H.M. lookalikes doing regal walkabouts and waving authentically to their people
*the demure transperson who suddenly broke away from her sisters and came over all disco diva, then demured up again just as suddenly
*all the kids with toty wee legs who were scampering to keep up with mummy (dressed in bin liners) or daddy (dressed in boyband chic)
*the Gay Firefighters in their sexy gear with their shiny big appliance
*handsome boys in nothing but underwear, stopping to moon the crowd
*the few brave Gay Muslims with their big brave banner
*some very handsome dogs herding the gay flock towards Westminster
*Peter Tatchell’s proud little placard pointing out that he has been tirelessly marching on our behalf for thirty years now (bless… neither wonder he’s so thin)
*the handsome American in shorts to our left who was cruised by every passing queen and filmed by every passing cameraman
*me and Big G in our Hawaiian shirts and leather keks
There was a hiatus midway, presumably to prevent a scrum at the bottom of the hill down from Piccadilly, but there was an ambulance there so it’s not impossible it was Kegboy having another wee funny turn…
Saw no Dykes on Bikes this year, sadly.
Oh, endless joyful, beautifully attired people, just doing their own little thang, Proudly - whoopee! |
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