DEARIE me, in my local pub these days there is trouble piled on top of trouble and then poured over with lashings of extra-strong Kick-Off Kustard.
Truly, I am beginning to suspect that the tap water in New Brighton comes from the reservoir of bad-tempered b******.
I was in the Waiting Room last night and discovered a large contingent of lesbians in there.
Nothing wrong with that, of course, even when some of them started heavy petting and tonsil tennis antics.
Slutty Hardman’s eyes were out on stalks and who can blame him?
It was like a scene from the fall of the Roman Empire, or Sodom and Gomorrah, or Sappho’s boozy leaving party on the ancient Greek island of Lesbos.

As usual, too much drink had been taken.
But it wasn’t the prominent displays of sexuality in that snug front parlour of the Waiting Room that caused a problem, it was the very lairy behaviour of the lesbians.
They were loud (which is kind of OK, though not ideal in a room where musicians play), and at times aggressive (which is definitely not all right).
Trouble soon started between (on the one hand) the seven or so lesbians and (on an adjoining table) a young man and his girlfriend out for a quiet Sunday evening drink.
I was sat across from the lot of them, observing everything with my usual wry detachment and suppressed satirical sniggers… but then the atmosphere turned unpleasant.
I think the lad’s girlfriend was made to feel uncomfortable by the raucous antics of the gay gals.
Whether it was the lesbians’ snogging which made her squirm or their general outlandishness – standing on the seats singing torch anthems very loudly etc – I never did find out.
Anyway, this lad’s girlfriend was not happy and so her boyfriend, naturally enough, felt he had to defend her honour. Inevitably, a row broke out.
The argument got quite nasty, and from my vantage point it was two or three of the lesbians who were being the most aggressive. The rest of the girls were behaving OK, if, as I say, very much on the loud side.
The young man was being quite reasonable, I thought, in telling the gay lasses not to try to bully his girlfriend.
His young woman said she felt the lesbians were trying to bully her.The fellow’s girlfriend was a good-looking woman, as indeed were several of the lesbians, by the way.
I’m no expert, but I think some of the gay ladies could pass for lipstick lesbians, while others (a minority) clearly preferred the ‘bull dyke’ look.
Several of us, including myself and Popstar Paul, thought it wise to get the young, straight couple away from the gay girls and over to our side of the bar because, quite honestly, I think a proper scrap was brewing.
One of the lesbians looked like Sporty Spice but with bigger shoulders and a nowtier face. I reckon she could have packed a punch.
Things got so heated that barmaid Tallulah Swells had to come round and make a plea for peace. She stood there arms akimbo like a bustier and blonde version of Condoleezza Rice trying to talk moderation to the Israelis.
And thank goodness I was on hand to inject the situation with some peace, love and tolerance.
I am the personification of the Balm of Gilead (look it up in your Bible) in preventing potential outbreaks of emotional distress or violence in Hell’s Waiting Room.
And please don’t get me wrong. In general terms, I like the atmosphere gay people bring to a place.
The lesbians are welcome in the Waiting Room as far as I am concerned and as long as they show respect for other customers.
But I think there is something in the air at the moment, however, that means gay people are forever wanting to make a public and political statement of their sexuality, and that’s not always appropriate.
Sexuality is a great gift we all possess. There is an argument to be made that sexuality is best used for the serious business of procreation and the transmission of human identity within morally desirable parameters.
And we can ask the question: how does frolicking around seaside towns having same-sex snog-a-thons in pubs help to build tolerance?
Still, I look forward to the day when lesbians and gay men will cheerfully belt out Dorothy Squires numbers in the Waiting Room without causing any botheration to the rest of us.
I’m quite partial to a bit of Dorothy Squires music, actually, having been introduced to it in a gay dockers’ pub in Hull (titter ye not, it is perfectly true) when I was a columnist for that city’s evening paper.
So, pip, pip for now!
Keep loving … in whatever way gets you through the night. (Nudge, nudge.)

• Post to:
•  del.icio.us
•  Digg
•  Newsvine
•  Nowpublic
•  Reddit