At the gay bar, gay bar, gay bar, etc.
This weekend, I officially joined the ranks of the Leeds LGBT. Who, incidentally, are several times nicer than most of the people I've met in the hall. Funny, that.
We all met up for a 'scene tour'. The gay scene of Leeds is concentrated around a murky little cobblestone courtyard that, judging by its smell, was used to dump waste until some point in the 1960s. It's quite Dickensian, until you see the glowing pink and yellow sign of 'Queen's Court' and a lapdancing club called 'The Tappas Bar' opposite. (I must investigate one day to see if it actually serves topless tapas. If they do, I might never leave.)
Things we saw included:
- A very hip bar called 'fusion'. The type which refuses people if they don't have a certain look, and probably contains more straight women than gay men. So how did we get in? The president knew the bouncer. They had one of those giant glass windows, and it was so amusing to see all the fashion victims queuing up outside, placing 5p bets on them getting rejected. Most notable of all was the rather rotund women wearing a red and black-spotted Mini Mouse ballgown, with a huge blue tattoo across her neck that clashed, and cowboy boots.
- The antithesis of 'fusion', called 'The New Penny'. Glo-sticks were available from the bar, and came out of a giant penis-shaped dispenser. The place was complete with someone who can't have been more than about 15 wearing Marks and Sparks boxer shorts pulled up to near-armpit height and what looked like a pair of school trousers. He was dancing in front of a huge mirror, and appeared to be attempting to have sex with himself. Possibly because nobody else would. There was also a dildo on top of the till, CDs blue-tacked to the walls, and a picture of the Queen surrounded by fairy lights.
- I can't remember the name of the next place. The Bridge, possibly? This might have been correlated to their 5 bottles for £10 deal. They do, however, put on Elton John cabaret nights.
- Again, the name of the next place eludes me after half a litre or so of vodka, but the seven women of the LGBT society were the only women in there, and probably the only women who had been in there since the last LGBT scene tour. Consequently, the toilets were very impressive.
- Lots of men called Michael. Why are there so many gay men called Michael? (With the exception of my Dad, of course.)
I spent the night on a random girl called Frances' floor. We were up until 7am shouting, "I'm Brian Blessed," and slagging off her flatmate who we dubbed Eduardo the Lothario. And being in awe of her 'wet room' which is basically a shower and a toilet in the same room with a drain in the middle, the fact her window looks out onto a graveyard where university professors are buried, and her other flatmate who cooked an entire kipper and a crab for breakfast and made us watch Kung Pow. Maybe our hall isn't so bad. At least you can go for a pee without getting shower gel on your feet.
We all met up for a 'scene tour'. The gay scene of Leeds is concentrated around a murky little cobblestone courtyard that, judging by its smell, was used to dump waste until some point in the 1960s. It's quite Dickensian, until you see the glowing pink and yellow sign of 'Queen's Court' and a lapdancing club called 'The Tappas Bar' opposite. (I must investigate one day to see if it actually serves topless tapas. If they do, I might never leave.)
Things we saw included:
- A very hip bar called 'fusion'. The type which refuses people if they don't have a certain look, and probably contains more straight women than gay men. So how did we get in? The president knew the bouncer. They had one of those giant glass windows, and it was so amusing to see all the fashion victims queuing up outside, placing 5p bets on them getting rejected. Most notable of all was the rather rotund women wearing a red and black-spotted Mini Mouse ballgown, with a huge blue tattoo across her neck that clashed, and cowboy boots.
- The antithesis of 'fusion', called 'The New Penny'. Glo-sticks were available from the bar, and came out of a giant penis-shaped dispenser. The place was complete with someone who can't have been more than about 15 wearing Marks and Sparks boxer shorts pulled up to near-armpit height and what looked like a pair of school trousers. He was dancing in front of a huge mirror, and appeared to be attempting to have sex with himself. Possibly because nobody else would. There was also a dildo on top of the till, CDs blue-tacked to the walls, and a picture of the Queen surrounded by fairy lights.
- I can't remember the name of the next place. The Bridge, possibly? This might have been correlated to their 5 bottles for £10 deal. They do, however, put on Elton John cabaret nights.
- Again, the name of the next place eludes me after half a litre or so of vodka, but the seven women of the LGBT society were the only women in there, and probably the only women who had been in there since the last LGBT scene tour. Consequently, the toilets were very impressive.
- Lots of men called Michael. Why are there so many gay men called Michael? (With the exception of my Dad, of course.)
I spent the night on a random girl called Frances' floor. We were up until 7am shouting, "I'm Brian Blessed," and slagging off her flatmate who we dubbed Eduardo the Lothario. And being in awe of her 'wet room' which is basically a shower and a toilet in the same room with a drain in the middle, the fact her window looks out onto a graveyard where university professors are buried, and her other flatmate who cooked an entire kipper and a crab for breakfast and made us watch Kung Pow. Maybe our hall isn't so bad. At least you can go for a pee without getting shower gel on your feet.