I like to think that I am as open-minded as every other reactionary Yorkshire leftie of a certain age and I am not a prude when it comes to 'boudoir matters'. Apart from the fact that I have referred to sex as 'boudoir matters'. But, frankly speaking, enough is enough!
What started out as an amusing email trickle has now become a junkmail deluge of various women wanting me to 'hook up' with them so I can give them a 'booty call' and become their 'fuck buddy'. Yes. This is an actual term. And it has nothing to do with Buddy Holly. RIP.
Various wannabe lovers have explained to me how their boyfriends have cheated on them and they want to film themselves getting 'a severe pounding' so they can send it to their love rat exes. Others have expressed a fascination with 'anal' and want a willing partner to experiment with. On this, I am assuming the ladies in question don't want to be both sponge and stone. To be fair, I didn't make any further inquiries, so I have no idea.
I can only conclude that one young lady is also into animal cruelty as she wanted me to soak her pet cat till it was dripping wet. Sodden cats are not sexy. They are sad. Fact.
Smut just isn't what it used to be and my junkmail box is now becoming a scary place to visit. However, I am free most Wednesdays...
PS. That last bit was a joke.
I have long loved all things Gothic when it comes to music. It was a teenage thing, although I was usually too cheery to really embrace the internalised and miserable side of the tribe, and it has stayed with me into adulthood. And no matter what my other musical leanings and loves over the years, and there have been and continue to be many, the Sisters of Mercy remain one of the bands I return to time and time again.
So it was no surprise that me and my long-time mate, the Goth Barrister from Goole, wended our way to the Roundhouse in Camden to see the Sisters in concert recently.
The evening was ace and it kicked off with several pints of Jet Black Heart at a BrewDog pub in London, before we headed to the gig. The queue to get into the venue was huge and it featured lots of Goths of all shapes and sizes. The once beautiful flowing locks, lithe frames, make-up and tight-fitting blouses were now, sadly, gone. And that was just the blokes.
Once the Sisters came onto the stage, none of that mattered, though.
The band have always been a credible live act through its many incarnations, with lead singer and lyricist Andrew Eldritch and drum machine Doctor Avalanche being the only constants in the line-up. The back catalogue was also well represented, with tracks from the band's three studio albums and 12" single releases performed in slightly rockier versions. More from Vision Thing (1989), the title track from Floodland (1987) and Walkaway from First and Last and Always (1984) were personal highlights. There were also newer tracks that were quite impressive, too.
The evening was maybe a bit of a nostalgia-fest and, at points, a goth singalong. But it was also enjoyable. Although, that's not something a card-carrying Goth should admit...
