Ever questioned a gay mans credentials for dictating women's fashion? Well then, read this.

And who'd have thunk that Karl Lagerfeld would become my new hero? I must use the line "But I don't think you are well informed enough to make a discussion with me about this," ASAP!

Ibiza

I love this! That comment pretty much epitomises the slightly obscure views that many of the elders at home have.

When you put that next to this, you'll start to understand why I tell people that I come from Bath (which is, incidentally, only 10 miles away and the nearest city.)

"Don't be ashamed of your roots," someone who didn't come from Trowbridge once said.

Chevy Chase

On Friday Helen emailed myself and a few other people with a question.

She has been researching schools for work and the results included a school in America called Chevy Chase. The name sounded familiar to her, so she plonked it into Wikipedia and it came up with him.

Her question had been: why had a high-school named itself after a comedian who had performed so unspectacularly in his own education?

This prompted a few of us to do our own Chevy Chase search and there are, in fact, a few things, people and places named Chevy Chase. One might assume that it was one of them that provided the inspiration behind the naming of afore mentioned internationally famous comic genius.

Helen's brother presented us with this place. It occurred to me, from the banality of the website (and my overactive, salacious imagination), that behind the normalcy of the white picket fences, ornamental street lights and flag-flying would be a veritable hotbed of incest, bisexual partner swapping and a touch of slavery.

But then I realised that the same could be said by someone visiting the website of my own home town.

An open letter to straight men

Hello straight men! How are you? Me? Oh, I'm good, thanks for asking.

Hey, so I know that our conversations are usually fairly awkward, with you saying things like, "You probably aren't interested in football are you, mate?" and "That's so gay! Er, I don't mean it like that. I know loads of gayers," with me then responding with a much-practiced faux laugh and grin which hides a lifetime of pained despair ... but listen up, because I actually have some advice that may help the World become a more beautiful place help you pull birds more.

Now, I did make my thoughts on this subject quite clear some time ago, but just to refresh your memory ... three-quarter length trousers (also known as Capri pants) - so not a good look. No. Not even when you accessorise them with cheapo camouflage flip-flops from H&M, a too-tight beige T-shirt with "Sit on my face" written over your moobs and a lukewarm can of Holston Pils, deftly wedged in between your pudgy fingers and thumb.

Now come on. Don't be like that. It's not just because your loosely toned legs have the complexion of downy-haired chalk ...

Er. Ok. It is because of that. I'm not saying that us gay men are any better, because we have also been known to wear them as well (well, not me, or at least not for a very long time). But when we do at least we've recently gone to the effort of visiting a tanning salon or even Selfridges beauty hall to buy a bottle of St. Tropez.

So, I'll cut you a deal. If you promise to stop inflicting us all to the sight of your pasty, hairy pins in those bloody horrible, nasty trou-shorts then I promise that I'll never, ever tell anyone that when you were 14 you licked it. You know, just to see what it tasted like.

Lots of (platonic) love,

Christopher
x

On Friday I was in the UK's biggest selling national newspaper. Not on page 3, as some of my friends have wittily retorted, but on page 5 of the motoring section.

The reason why was because the bike editor had reviewed the motorcycle course I took last month and wanted to use a picture of someone who had passed. So there at the foot of the page was yours truly, smiling handsomely in his motorbike kit, crouched next to a real-life motorbike. All very marvelous, except for the caption, which read:

"My fellow student: Chris [surname]"

It was like God had been reading my blog this week and decided to publicly defecate on my head.

But the really weird thing was that on the way home from work I stopped by a newsagent to buy my own copy of the newspaper and my name had changed to "Christopher".

Now I know that most newspapers (including the one I was in on Friday) have several print runs and that sometimes the front-page splash might change depending on a breaking story, but really ... is the correct form of my name so important to actually "stop the press" over?

Well yes, actually. It bloody well is.

Postmodern homo-ness

I love this SO MUCH and I don't really know why:

Aftermath

Five people have responded exclaiming that they, also, don't like the shortened versions of their names, but thus far have felt that they could not speak up in opposition of their use.

One department head thinks that I am hilarious and have a clever way with words.

*stony face*

I am and I do.

My immediate board director thinks that I should be called whatever he sees fit to call me, which is currently CK (my surname begins with a K.) For obvious sartorial and super-hero alias reasons, I can live with this.

It has also created something of an existential debate: can one influence or complain over the choice of his or her nickname? My opinion is no, but a shortened version of one's name is technically not a nickname.

It's a minefield! It really is.

What is now an open letter

I just sent this email to my entire company and now I'm starting to have pangs of regret:

Dear All,

(I'm opening myself up to a barrage of emails here, but anyway ...)

When I joined the company there was one thing I didn't list as a "dislike" and that is people calling me "Chris". However, the trend for calling me just that is, to my disturbance, growing. I'm making no judgements on any of the culprits, because that would alienate most of the people I work closely with (some of whom are in charge of my salary and my having a job here!)

But until somebody comes up with a name for me which I deem to be even better than my actual moniker (e.g. Brutallyhottopher) it'd be much appreciated if you could just call me Christopher.

You can, of course, call me anything you like behind my back (and you probably will after having read this email.)

I love you all!

Christopher

"How big are you? I mean, how tall are you?"

More about Thursday night's date tomorrow. In the meantime I'd like to introduce you to my new crush: Brandon Routh / Clark Kent / Kal-El / Superman / whatever:


I've read reviews which have commented on how good the film is, if only half an hour too long. The first part of the that I agree with, but the latter ... ridiculous. I mean, look at the man! Only the most red-blooded heterosexual male could be irritated at having to endure literally hours and hours and hours of staring at his near-perfect form. In my opinion the movie was not long enough, by far.

Kate Bosworth, on the other hand, was shite. Bring back Margot Kidder, even if she is 57 years old.

This morning I went to the gym and for the first time had a conversation with the brutally hot guy who has been cruising me for the past few months. A conversation that resolved itself by him agreeing to go for a drink with me on Thursday night.

"Would you like to go for a drink with me?"

"Yes."

It's a simple dialogue and who knows? Maybe it will set me on the path to this:


But then again, it may set me on the path to this:


(I Googled "anguish" and it came up with that picture. As any gay boy knows, the only way to properly experience anguish is to buff-up and wear tighty-whities with legs akimbo.)

Here's two more, entirely unrelated, questions for which I have no answers:

Is it at all possible for sex not to complicate things? And if the answer is yes ... then how?

Today the world's analysts, politicians and general public are questioning the logic behind Kim Jong-il's decision to executively-order his defense task force to undertake one of most provocative military gestures of the past 50 years.

But I have another question:

Why did The Guardian's graphic design department choose to represent human-to-Taepodong-2 missile scale with a figure that looks suspiciously like Michelangelo's David?


Look!


I can only think of two possible reasons:

The figure is not only a scale point, but is also an historic reference in a modern context: David as Korean rocket scientist. Michelangelo's statue (based on the Biblical King David at the moment he decided to do battle with Goliath) eventually came to represent the city of Florence as an independent state threatened by more powerful enemies. In this instance Florence is North Korea. It hardly seems to be an appropriate use of symbolism.

The alternate reason is that David is representing poor little western culture which is about to be nuked by a fucking massive rocket. Also inappropriate, when you consider that the combined military prowess of the US and friends would more than overwhelm North Korea and little Kim Jong-il.

Which reminds me - the answer to the question at the top of this post:

It's because he's short.