Wogs

I don’t think I’m a typical gay man. Actually, I know that I’m not a typical gay man.
One of the delightful staff here, Brooks, an American chap, was fine when he first started working her. Now, eighteen months later, he had become the embodyment of the “fifth form at Mallory Towers”, all screaming, hand waving faggoty type stereotype of a gay man.
Monday, is cheap drinks at the Black Cap night, and I’m rearing to go. What has stopped me is some other vile American who has latched onto Brooks. This one is an Asian-American. It’s not the fact hat he’s Asian that bothers me. Nor is it the fact that he’s added to his natural colouring with some crap that comes from a bottle, [orange / brown, like a1970’s table lamp] it’s the fact that he screams and giggles at everything, like a twelve year old girl.
I can’t go out on the piss with this prick because I’ll end up killing him! I spend all day [getting paid for being politically correct, ergo, I don't see why / and don't do it when I'm not being paid] Thus, I've already told Mowgli to "fuck off" and, straight away, he realised that I'm not a foil for his screaming girl act.
Grandma, from the Walton’s, was never like this!