Recently, these pooves have been everywhere. You can't take your dog for a walk without being exposed to people who may be gay, and you can't take an innocent cruise by Manchester's Ship Canal without a bombardment of offers for free bumfuckery. Turn on the television, and not only are actors playing gay roles, but they're being allowed to be gay in real life, openly canoodling and squirting each other with juices that were meant only for the womb of a Catholic woman.
Well, after years of negotiations, we've come up with a solution. A town will be built where all the choccy jockeys can live, whilst us right-thinking breeders can live out our lives without fear of our wives being scared by a passing arse bandit doing it with a horse, in a hedge.
So what will this new town look like? We've got two men working on it at the moment, one batting for either side. They have very different visions.
A stout sandal, an easy wearing brogue. What better? Admittedly, the shoes pictured are a little sexier than I'd imagined. Ankles should be kept in stout woollen socks, where children can't see them.
A place where fragranced leaves rule the... place, and the musky scent of lavender prevents effective respiration. With every purchase - a bag of wooden marbles that simply exude rain forest ethnicity. Special ranges of pot pourri - "essence of sequin" and "CK Sucker" will soon be available.
An unfussy affair; perhaps a Waitrose, but more likely a Safeway or a Tesco. As you can see here, I plan an orthodox structure. Aisles to be laid in parallel formation. Warm, drowsying smells to prevent un-British over-excitement. Perhaps a revolving door, though, unless you think that may over-stimulate the children.
A town isn't a town without a tower, and this wouldn't be Nantwich II unless it was made out of glitter. Not covered in it, we are not surface queens, we want the very foundations made out of adorable glitter. And every member of staff is a small yappy-type-dog with exotic fur styling, dressed in darling booties and not being fed enough to poo, because doggies don't poo in Nantwich II.
Come to think of it, that could be our slogan, in Latin. If it rhymes in Latin, which - on reflection - it probably doesn't.
Well, you'll need a hospital. You must admit that you need a hospital. Everyone gets ill at some point. Furthermore, you people aren't the most healthy to begin with.
Pictured is the neutering procedure that I propose that all lesbians should volunteer to undergo. By leaving their reproductive organs on the outside of their bodies, they would be reminded every day that they are very bad people.
Psst! Wanna see a dog's tooth being removed?
Honey, you cannot go cruising in a hospital. I cannot think of anything more screamingly vile! No, darling, I'll meet you by the statue of Doris Day, and we'll slip a pound coin into her Compac and watch her mechanically Vogue. Viva life!
Which do you prefer? Have your say, make your suggestion! Just don't expect your say to be heard, or your suggestions to be heeded. Then again, you may not want to, realising just how old and feeble this all is, so just go back to the home page.