Manchester Star Transfer Shock

With Apologies to Private Eye

The story that has been buzzing around the gay world for the last few weeks took a dramatic turn today with the news that Martin (“Whiz Kid”) Stafford had been transferred from Manchester CHE to London’s Nationwide Festival of Light. The fee involved is reported to be a sum not in excess of £5 (to cover the train fare), and I have it on good authority that Manchester CHE were more than willing to pay this amount.

Doing His Own Thing

Stafford’s manager at Manchester, Frank Ofarim, who was featured so much in the news recently, commented: “This boy should go a long way, already.” Other members of the Executive Council of the Manchester Club seemed to be in agreement. “I have lost count of the number of times,” confided one EC member, Glenys (Gay) Parry, “when Martin has taken leave of his senses during meetings of the team and gone off on his own. This move is in the best interests of the club as well as of Martin himself.”

Behind Every Man

I did manage to speak to Stafford himself as he boarded the train, and I put it to him that his recent actions were largely intended for publicity. His behaviour in Bristol and Holborn had hit the headlines, and his controversial views about the morality of footballers and their need to uphold the good image of the game similarly caused quite a stir. The only comment I could catch was “Balls” and I assume that was a reference to the two practice footballs which he carries around with him wherever he goes.

Porn Free

There was an obvious delight in Stuffer’s face when I mentioned playing with his two new colleages in NFL – Lord Longford and Mary Whitehouse. “They’re both very clean players” he said, “and I’m sure I shall fit in very well. I have spoken to them both already and was very impressed.”

Finally I asked him how the other NFL players would react to the size of the transfer fee, and his 8 degrees in Philosophy. “It might take me a little time to settle down with the lads, but as long as they’re not too friendly I should be all right.”

All references to Martin Stafford are entirely coincidental.

A Queen’s Christmas Message

My husband and I, at this time of year, are glad to be able to pass on to you all our best wishes. As I lie here on our snake-skin rug in front of a blazing row, I like to think of you all at your hearthsides wearing see-through tulle and figure-hugging mini-briefs.

This, above all, is a time of year, when we think of our dark-skinned friends with their enormous attributes in the Commonwealth. We must also think of our yellow-skinned friends, who make such a charming addition to any soiree – well Keith certainly thinks so.

On our recent tour of Canada I was very touched. Up to Christmas we have been very busy with official visits to King William IV of Hampstead, The Royal Court, High Wycombe Air Base, and the Earls Court Wimpy House. We are proud to report that the general spirits of the Great British Public are high and the economy of picking-up is improving.

We have not cheapened ourselves, we are merely making inroads into Europe, as we come closer in our hearts to delightful butch Danes and the people of Marseilles.

Anyway, must close now darlings, Keith’s just come back in – and I do mean in. Love to you all and to all the ‘members’ of the Commonwealth.

Love and kisses,

Keith and ‘Brenda’

Make it Legal

19720901-14Hullo there. Nice to meet you. A few questions – okay?
Sure: go ahead.
You are over 21?
Oh yes; want to see my teeth?
No, your birth certificate. Thanks. Yes, that seems all right. Now, then. You do consent?
Oh yes — indeed.
Fine. And we are in private here aren’t we? I mean, you’re not with a mate who’s going to turn up and watch?
Dear me no: I’m on my own.
Good. Well, now. You’re not from Scotland, are you?
Never been there.
Nor from Ulster?
Certainly not!
Anything to prove it? Driving licence, insurance card, or such like?
Here you are.
Ah — thanks. We’re making progress. Now: you’re not in the army, I take it?
Oh, no.
Sorry I can’t oblige.
Air force?
Merchant Navy, possibly?
No, no.
Not fuzz, I hope …
I see. Now what have I forgotten?
To ask me if we’ve met through a published ad.
Well, we haven’t, have we? It was our pal who phoned me about you, wasn’t it?
Sure it was.
Fine. Well, I think it’s all nice and legal, then – at least, I hope so.
Me too. Shall we get some gear off?



The Professional Homosexual

prof“We have a great and momentous task before us which can only be performed through diligence and mixing with the right people. I do my bit by getting around and speaking to groups. This week, for example, I am talking to some Young Conservatives in Liverpool on Monday, I have a Rotary Club luncheon on Tuesday, dinner with a few selected MPs on Wednesday. Thursday I am down to speak in a debate on pornography in Cambridge and on Friday at the preliminary, sub-agenda, preplanning committee of the NFHO. Meanwhile I have to write eight articles for magazines ranging from the Police Gazette to Forum and work on my own definitive book on the subject. Yes it’s a busy life. I am also involved with the following organisations: The Kensington Womens Information Movement (KWIM), the Camp Activist Volunteers and the Political Action Group (CAV and PAG), also the Homosexual Information Movement and the Homophile Erotic Research Society (HIM and HERS), then there’s the Gay International Go-Go’ Lads Excursion Society (GIGGLES) and the Co-operative Underground News Trust which is well-known. My book of gay recipes will be coming out in the Autumn, but I have no plans to come out myself as no one knows my real name. There’s little time for love life, I agree, but I don’t exactly waste my time on those inter-city trains, you know.”

The Gay Type

gay“My dear, such a divine party last night, absolutely scrumptious drinkies you made, sweetie. What was it? Gin and passion fruit juice? Oh you wicked queen. And how’s that darling Sam you dragged in from the cottage? He did looked dropped on when he came in, those leather boots . . . mmm . . . so brave of you, I do hope I’m so bold when I’m your age, petal. Was he good in bed? Sam I mean?

Oh . . he did? . . . he didn’t. . . did he now? I . . . did you? . . . you did? Oh, full marks lovie … Oh no! how awful . . . still you will take risks won’t you, heavenly? . . . is your mother alright now, then? … oh goodie . . . a game old bird I always thought. Some of us thought we’d toddle along to the Garden tonight for ducky Rudi in Swanners . . . why not slip into something tight and join us . . . do you good after that nasty experience last night. Champers in the Crush Bar? Tempting? Then the Inigo Jones afterwards? Oh just Johnny and Dolly and Tiny and lil’ ’ol me . . . oh no, we can’t stand her with her pinstripe trousers and Turnbull and Asser shirts, so passé and so serious, darling. That’s lovely then, tonight at the Garden . . . oh, no one will notice the black eye if you wear shades.

I know, put a bit of raw steak on it if you can stand any more red meat in a week if you see what I mean . . . byeeeee”

A Simple but Butch, Soul

simple“Well, it’s like this yer see. some Saturday nights I lose me mates at the Elephant and get up West, see? Wander into one of them pubs, buy myself a half a bitter and stand about a bit. Never takes long. One of ’em come up -‘what’ll you, have?’ Always have a whisky. Then we get chatting and its “Why not finish off the evening at my place?” he says. “Why not” I says and a taxi it is, all the way up to Hampstead or Kensington or Notting Hill Gate. Sometimes its Kensington. Quite like that, I don’t have to stay the night ‘cos I can walk home, see. I don’t hold it against them, they can’t help being that way can they? And I don’t hold with violence of any sort, that’s where me and my mates differ, like. Good boy, I am. Go back with them good as gold. Another drink and a Shirley Bassey record. Yeah, she’s alright. A bit skinny for my taste, still you can’t have everything can you? Then we get down to it . . . you know. Well, me, I just lie back and enjoy it, let them do all the work, after all that’s what they like innit? No, I wouldn’t do that . . . no its not that I don’t hold with it, its like I say, each to his own.

But it’s not my thing. We have good times, sometimes I see them again. Kiss? Christ! mate, what do you think I am, a fucking pansy?

The Sanctuary Queen

sanctuary“Well you see, we believe that homosexuals are real people and that love is the most important thing in the world. Actually, we don’t use the word homosexual at all, but prefer to say homophiles which means lovers. You see, we believe that we homophiles (you see?) must prove that we are real human people by doing things for those less fortunate than ourselves. What sort of thing? Well, we sell flowers on street corners and collect rags on a door to door basis. Some of us are rather keen to go round the neighbourhood cleaning cars and doing odd jobs for housewives. You see, we must convince everyone that we are real people and help them in important, real things. No, I couldn’t possibly give you my name, heavens no, sir. It’s so dangerous to do that, I mean people might find out I’m a homophile mightn’t they? And I can’t give you my address, oh no, that would be too difficult, my canary is terribly sensitive. That doesn’t matter you see, what does matter is that we really try and show everyone that homophiles are exactly the same as everyone else. Oh no, my friends don’t know about me. Well, I take my sister out a lot and I have a girl friend too – I think she knows, but it’s never actually spoken of, you understand, I take her out a lot so people don’t start wondering about me. You see – it’s really easy to adjust and live a normal healthy life, if you really try.”

A Responsible Person

responsible“As I see it, there’s no point in going around with placards screaming that one is gay. I mean who’s interested? People have their own problems, don’t they. Anyway. I don’t want to lose my friends. Friends I’ve had for twenty or more years would drop me if they thought I was . . . like I am. There is no difference between homosexual people and straight people at all, so its just a question of working quietly towards proving this. I’m in favour of homosexual marriages, for example, in church if you like. You probably think that’s very radical don’t you? But if people could see homosexual pair bonds setting up home just like they do, don’t you think they’d feel easier? I don’t think homosexuals should get mixed up with women, or people under 21, or transvestites or anyone who might give us a bad image. I’ve no time tor students, after all its not so long to wait before you’re 21 is it? I think demonstrations do more harm than good on the whole. Its a better feeling just to go along to a meeting and chat to a few other blokes, have a beer, smoke a pipe or two and exchange ideas. That’s what it’s all about, really. Good fellowship. If we don’t bother anyone else, no one will bother us will they?”

A Liberationist

liberationist“Society is wrong it’s the capitalist system that bugs us all and all the competitiveness and role-playing we’re forced to do that’s why I think we should all refuse to work and live in communes, let everyone find their own way through it all, our struggle is a class struggle our fight is the same as the fight for women’s rights and black people’s rights and the workers’ rights isn’t it get all that sorted out and everyone will be happy everyone should come out as quickly as possible everyone should make it clear they are gay we’ve got to push it down their throats in their suburban gardens it’s no good stealing their children they wouldn’t care burn their garages that’s what they understand property do away with private property and gay people will be free to fight on no I don’t do a job why should I society has made me what I am so society can jolly well keep me right if I want to wear drag, then I will because it’s what I want to wear and its nothing to do with being butch or bitch or any of that crap so I wear a dress and I paint my nails so what that’s me I would go leafletting on Saturday night with you but its my sister’s coming-out party it’s rather important to her and mummy that I’m there so I shall have to dash off to Moss Bros now for a white tux. Right on!”

The Biograph Review

01-197205XX 6In these days of rush and constant turmoil there is a definite need for one to be able to sit back and relax. And where better than at the pictures. I find three hours in front of the silver screen with ones favourite stars feeding those fantasies all of us have. Nowadays though there are so many films around that it is quite easy to miss something one really wanted to see, and an excellant little cinema for catching up on things one has missed, and re-seeing old favourites is at the Biograph in Wilton Road in Victoria.

Mind you though dears, it sometimes attracts the strangest people. More often than not it attracts boozers, for what else is the answer to the fact that so many people have to continually rush off to the convenience to receive themselves of a full bladder of beer or gin. l’m partial to a drop of gin, but I like to think that I can keep it inside of me long enough to have a little bit of a rest.

Another minor discomfort at the Biograph is that many people find after paying their admission that the film wasn’t really their cup of gin, sorry, tea after all; that makes many people restless and seemingly so bored that they get what can only be described as a kind of ants in your pants of the cinema, as people are continually changing their seats. Mind you they could just be seeing old friends, for many people arrive on their own but quite often leave with an aquaintence or relative or something like that. A friend did tell me though that some people find that the occassional faulty seat and lack of arm-rests make it very uncomfortable for some people.

Anyway back to the films. In what will be, I hope, a regular feature in this lovely paper, I will let you know what goodies are showing at that little haven just by Victoria Station.

Unfortunately the paper went to press too late for me to tell you of an especially intriguing feature starring that super John Wayne. Oh! what a masculine name. The epic in question is The Commancheros. John Wayne is such a gorgeous man and actor. Sad too is that you probably also missed a chance of seeing The Damned. This is a very strange film, set in pre-war (2nd) decadent Germany. And dears, the most peculiar things happen in it. Men dressed up as women is just one of the fascinating delights that come dancing from the celluloid. at least the beer drinkers and relative finders were some how oddly quiet and stilled by this tomfoolery on the screen.

Commencing on Thursday 22nd June there is that darling Simone Signoret thrilling us all in The Confession. A drama, if ever there was one. Support feature is the prophetic You Can’t Win Them All with dolly Tony Curtis.

The Sunday show on 25th June is a sailor film, Sink The Bismark, where those brave, virtuous, strong and well built boys in navy blue battle those nasty Germans and their big boat. Second feature is a newy for me, I Deal In Danger, which is an apt title for a film showing at the Biograph on a Sunday. It gets so crowded you can hardly find a seat, lots of laps but no seats.

I must say I find the air conditioning wanting at limes, so do most other patrons, most have their coats off and over their knees as soon as they get into the cinema.

Monday 26th June’s attraction is Loot. Such a queer film, involving a questionable relationship. I’ve seen it many times.

The Private Life of Sherlock Holmes is showing on 29th June for three days. It’s as well Sherlock did keep some of the incidents that are depicted private. Very indiscreet film it is, shocking at times, but I like it.

The Inspector and Nine Hours to Rammer, sorry Rama, is the Sunday show on 2nd July; followed on Monday 3rd July by A Severed Head, kinky movie about everyone forgetting who their loved ones are, but they all seem quite happy, especially the two ladies.

A future attraction to make a note of is The Amorous Virgin. It’s a first for me, missed it when it was at that nice cinema just off Picadilly,

Before I leave you this time, I’d just like to tell you of one of the extra material comforts to be found at the Biograph. They keep the lights on quite bright so you can find anything you have dropped, and it does make it easier to find ones bits and pieces when leaving. Look after yourselve dears. Bye for now.

  • The Biograph, Wilton Road, Victoria, SWI.
  • Thursday 22 June
    The Confession AA with Yves Montand and Simone Signoret.
    You Can’t Win them All A with Charles Bronson and Tony Curtis.
  • Sunday 25 June.
    Sink the Bismark U with Kenneth More.
    I Deal in Danger U with Robert Gourlay.
  • Monday 26 June.
    Loot X with Richard Attenborough and Lee Remick.
    The Secret of Santa Vittoria AA with Anthony Quinn and Anna Magnani.
  • Thursday 29 June.
    The Private Life of Sherlock Holmes. A with Robert Stevens and Colin Blakeley.
    Ordered to Love X with Maria Perschy.
  • Sunday 2 July.
    The Inspector A with Stephen Boyd.
    Nine Hours to Rama A with Robert Morley.
  • Monday 3 July.
    A Severed Head X with Lee Remick and Richard Attenborough.
    I Walk the Line AA with Gregory Peck and Tuesday Weld.
  • Thursday 6 July.
    McKenzie Break AA with Brian Keith.
    Take a Girl like You X with Oliver Reed and Hayley Mills.
  • Sunday 9 July.
    Charge of the Black Lancers U with Mel Ferrer.
    The Amorous Virgin X with Marisa Solinas.

The Twilight World of the Heterosexual

01-197205XX 8In this enlightened frank age we must all face the fact that like it or not, heterosexuals make up a sizeable portion of the population. Since by their very nature heterosexuals are furtive and deceptive, no-one can say for sure exactly how many there are but psychiatric estimates run from five to twenty pet cent in England and America, slightly higher in Europe. We have no figures at all for the Orient, since inscrutability added to furtiveness makes it impossible to judge.

While many people naively think that heterosexuals are easily recognised, the reverse is very often the case, for in reality very few are the close-cropped snarling man or the simpering passive woman we see in the movies. Many lead outwardly normal lives and the gentle boy next door, and the tough competent girl down the street may have more than a passing interest in each other.

What then is heterosexuality? Simply put, it is the inability to love your own sex and the subsequent turning for sexual release to the opposite sex. Many hardened heterosexuals will attempt to turn it round and insist that heterosexuality is the ability to love the opposite sex. But if this were true, it would have to be an ability that grew out of a complete homosexual fulfillment – for it stands to reason that you can’t love something different to yourself unless you can first love people the same as you. And most heterosexuals are incapable of a true homosexual relationship.


The claim that heterosexuality involves love falls apart when we examine the nature of heterosexual activities. There are two forms of heterosexual union, the “affair” and the “marriage”. In both the sexual activities themselves are mechanical non-feeling, unrelated to the individual couple, and prescribed in advance according to the strange rituals of the heterosexual twilight world. The man has certain things he is supposed to do in a certain order, and the woman likewise. It is difficult for the healthy homosexual to grasp how alienating heterosexual “love” really is, but perhaps we can glimpse it when we examine that curious artifact, the sex manual. These are books, and the heterosexual world abounds with literally hundreds of them, that actually describe, step by step, the actions that heterosexuals are supposed to perform when they “make love”.

It is hard to say whether the “affair” or the “marriage” is more artificial and restrictive. In the first, the man and woman will meet, perhaps in the notorious “cocktail bars” with their cold hushed atmosphere, so different from the lively gay bars most of us know. Then they will “chat”, a process which consists of talking inanely about any subject so long as they do not reveal any part of their personalities. In fact, the entire “affair” coasts of projecting a false image.


obtaining the prescribed release, and then breaking off relations. When the proper time has elapsed the man and woman will go off to a special hotel maintained especially for heterosexual liaisons. There they will each do what their manual tells them and then say goodbye, priding themselves on that they have never betrayed any real emotion. Perhaps they will meet again and repeat the process, perhaps not.

The “marriage” is a much more bizarre form of practice and one which is far too complicated to describe here. Briefly considered, it is an agreement between two heterosexuals to live together for the rest of their lives and never relate sexually to anyone but each other. Though we might think such a strange arrangement might at least produce some degree of honesty, the opposite is often the case as the heterosexual compulsion to project totally false images becomes more and more obsessive over the years.


What buses a woman or a man to stray so far from normal development? To date, medical authorities have not developed any comprehensive theory. While some doctors claim a hormonal imbalance, many psychiatrists consider it an over-identification with the mother or father or both. One interesting theory claims that insecurity makes the woman want her vagina engorged or the man want his penis sheathed. Perhaps some engaged in their first heterosexual acts as a form of rebellion and then, guilt-ridden, felt they were trapped in the heterosexual world forever.

One thing is certain. The problem will not go away by our pretending it does not exist. Nor will making heterosexuality a crime deter those men and women from seeking each other out and arranging their secret liaisons. We who are more fortunate must learn compassion for those who cannot help themselves ,who do not choose to be this way (though many will exhibit a reverse stubborn pride). If we do not close our eyes, if in fact we devote more extensive research into the whole range of human sexuality then perhaps we can eventually release the diverse sexual elements in all of us and restore these unfortunate people to society.

INK Page 14 February 25th, 1972
By kind permission of INK newspaper