Soho Pride '06

Juicelog Sun 300706: The population at large reaches a climax of pleasure and cheerfulness towards the end of each month for a variety of reasons. For this month we plumped to honour July’s final day one by trawling through the streets of Soho in a partial stumbling manner whilst seeking new undiscovered levels of drunkenness alongside a musical environment of homo sounds (which is more commonly referred to as funky house). Expecting a 90% chance of precipitation I thought it apt to haul my younger brother (Wai) out of Ealing and into his 28^th year by introducing him to my small but extremely shady circle of friends. After six consecutive days of a total body detox, I allowed myself to let rip in Robbie’s drinks cabinet and fleetingly lost my balance on the scales of fun.

Robbie, Moet 2 & Moet 3:

Cynthia, Rocco video & Alicia:


Johnie V, Ms Boobies & Claire:


Wai & his beer friends:

Juicy, Wai & Robbie:

Robbie & Ms. Boobies:

Johnie V, Wai, Bouncy Boy, Fish & Ms. Boobie:


Big Britain:


Porno Paul, Wai, Marvin & Robbie:


Ms. Boobies & her rubbish:

From uncivil street partying the remaining few (myself, Ms. boobies, Wai, & Robbie) were sidetracked into that annoying chore of dinner. Having completed our unnecessary task of ingestion we then pressed on into Monday morning and persisted with:

Got a tour of Bent Dick’s new Hoxton gaff and enjoyed some detoxing green tea, photo browsing and bookcase discussion.

Bent Dick:

Brunch

Juicelog Sun 230706: Got up a little earlier than usual for a bit of this:

whilst enjoying this view from the Oxo Tower building:

as well as a touch of eye candy hard at work:

little did I know that following a yummy Sunday brunch with Robbie’s crew that several hours Later that I would be viewing:

Doorman says NO…

Juicelog Fri 210706: Friday night started off on a tricky footing when a few of us decided to drop into the new Barcode in Vauxhall. Londan got stopped at the door by the security guy and was refused entry. As I had already taken three steps into the building I had to immediately moonwalk back four steps back to ascertain what the problem was.

Now as far as I’m aware Londan had a shower before he came out (given that I prompted him earlier on in the day). His messy hair from this morning had been cut to ensure that no Worzel Gummidge clumps jutted out from the sides of his chavvy cap. He even went as far as to chuck away his copy of his Evening Standard newspaper into a nearby dustbin to avoid any false accusations of being identified as an erudite.

In an all too familiar case of rising above your station-itis, the doormen did not want to allow him into the bar on the grounds that he was deemed to be “too scruffy”. Not quite believing what we were told, we wasted a good ten minutes of priceless drinking time scrutinising Londan’s garms (that’s street slang for attire). Now if truth be told his outfit was moderately austere and prosaic which I believe was intentionally done to avoid upstaging me.

Londan wasn’t prepared to go home to get changed in order to conform to this ridiculous door policy. No amount of bribing, fluttering of my eyelashes and pleading was able to assuage the doormen into making an exception to allow him in. Luckily, one of my gods answered my cry for help and sent an angel in the form of Jono to resolve our predicament. Jono thankfully knew the bar manager who came along to usurp the doorman’s decision. Without wishing to be ungrateful I juicily "thanked" Jono for his laudable and kind assistance. I’m sure like all good mates, Londan would do the same for me.

We all bumped into an extremely close friend of ours, Kay, who we haven’t seen or heard from in absolute ages. Never one to disappoint at social gatherings she lived up to her naughty reputation and got us partying till the early morning. Kay has always been good to us even though we have been slack with staying in touch with her. Like most of my good mates, I will be seeing more of her in the future.

Jono & Damon:

Marvin, Clitty & Londan:


Dan E, Juicy, Clitty's Hand & Marvin:

Brunch Invite

Juicelog Thurs 200706: Yesterday I received a brunch invite from Robbie. So why have I chosen to blog about this? Robbie is someone I’ve met a couple of times on the clubbing scene. He’s not someone I know well (I don’t even know what he does for a living!!) but he is someone who is tres likeable and has a very genuine and amusing quality about him.

Having finally got round to swapping numbers back a couple of weeks ago, he has now asked me round this weekend for brunch at his place (which is in a very funky building by the riverside in Central London). I just LOVE IT when I get an opportunity to get to hang out with people outside the confines of a club.

Fifth letter

Juicelog Wed 190706: Juicemaster J is hot and it’s not due to the sweltering London weather. This afternoon my mum annoyed me slightly when she quizzed me about whether I consumed the fifth letter from the alphabet as part of my weekend activities. Instinctively I lied and responded with a no. The reason for me not saying yes was because my “no” isn’t really a lie because it is a known fact that I don’t like e’s (which in Chinese are called head thrashing pills due to the acid house raver stereotype). Also I know if I did admit to taking them I would have had the longest earbashing this side of thirty.

My mum is not as silly woman and had obviously planned her line of questioning. She eased herself into the topic of drugs by asking me if I knew where a club called Fire was. Slightly shocked as her knowledge of clubs tends to be about the big venues in London (like Fabric and Pacha) rather than dirty little dives like Fire. Admitting to knowing that Fire was in Vauxhall, she then proceeded with a few more questions:

Mum: do you ever take head thrashing pills?
JJ: NO, of course not.
Mum: how about your friends?
JJ: some of them do. some don’t.
Agatha Christie: have they ever offered you any?

A big long silent gap before my brain came back with:

JJ: no, my friends are super stingy and would never offer to share their narcotics with me.
Agatha Christie: I don’t believe you. Your friends in their moment of excitement must have offered you a pill?

Another silent moment before my mum launches into a diatribe about how I need to grow up and stop clubbing with unsensible people. For my 31^st bidet I’ve now decided I want a Made In Holland mum!

My brother graduates

Juicelog Tues 18 July 06: Went along with my folks for my brother’s graduation ceremony. Can’t believe I sat through 90 minutes of name calling and tedious speeches just to watch my brother spend 20 seconds shaking the hand of his Vice-Chancellor (dressed like Professor Dumbledore) and collecting his certificate.
This year Brunel University thankfully have started to see sense by awarding honorary degrees to academics who actually deserve it rather than this vile and perfidious politician.

Carnivale

Juicelog Sat 150706: My loft got invaded and ransacked by three sodomites this morning. After the feng shui clearout I then made my way to Tiverton Park with Cynthia for the massive July soiree that is known as Carnivale.

A big turnout included a lot of Alex, Tom & Bouncy Boy’s extensive circle of friends, family members as well as various local people. Meeting Tom’s fab mum brings my new mothers total up to three this year. It took me a while to clock onto Amanda being in attendance as well.

All the eating, drinking and dancing took place inside their big massive barn which had been tarted up to create the magnificent carnivale surroundings. Everyone jittered around to the sounds of the ceilidh band with dance steps called out by prison warden Joan Ferguson.

As the evening wore on tiny little groups started to form and unexpectedly I somehow ended up hanging out with Phil’s gayboy posse. Whilst checking out the local boys he tried to teach me rude words in sign language and how to smoke. Cynthia bridged the gap between our gang and the other fellow carnivalees with some, erm, traditional barnyard entertaining.

For quite some time there have been vicious rumours propagating amongst the alpaca gossip-mongers and Devonshire journalists that this was due to be the last Carnivale. I sincerely hope that there is more to come!

Open Wide

Juicelog Fri 140706: Got a mini bollocking from my new dentist about the state of my teeth. He commanded me to come back in two weeks time for my dose of punishment. So for the sake of avoiding a potentially skew-whiffed smile, can people please please stop buying me Malibu & Cokes when we’re down the pub.

Batteries are like…

Juicelog Mon 100706: Back a few weeks ago myself and Tom A. were discussing how friendships were like batteries. What I’ve noticed is that some friendships expire after a certain period of time (and therefore need to be chucked into the trashcan of society) whilst others are worth keeping (if you are prepared to put in the effort of recharging them).

Eventually over time most folks will acquire a whole collection of them which then leads to a process of review taking place. Having lost my mobz a couple of times in the last 12 months I have mind-bogglingly racked up a few numbers. The four categories I have come up with to define my social network are as follows:

Rank A – a group of people who I know well and who’s company I enjoy. These people would get nothing but love from me even if they called me up at 3am in the morning.
Rank B – these consist of folks I like but have not had the chance to connect with properly. People within this rank would normally expect a 60% attendance record from me at their social gatherings.
Rank C – this ranges from useful contacts, work colleagues, clubbing party types and people I have not met in real life yet.
Rank D – who will disappear from my phone at 12:01am on 1 January 2007 (if I don’t lose my phone before then).

As we’re halfway through the calendar year I decided to take some time out tonight by assessing my phonebook first. A simple analysis reveals that:

Rank A – there are 24 people that fall into this category.
Male:female ratio is 21:3
Gay:straight ratio is 20:4
(I’m sorry but there is a finite amount of J:love)

Rank B – currently I have 54 people who I need to get to know better.
Male:female ratio is 40:14
Gay:straight ratio is 39:15
(These people will be contacted shortly as a special one-off to make amends)

Rank C – unsurprisingly this came out the highest with a total of 89 people.
Male:female ratio is 76:13
Gay:straight ratio is 69:20

Rank D – 23 people are merely inches away from feeling the toe-caps of my caterpillar boots.
Male:female ratio is 23:0
Gay:straight ratio is 23:0

Another way of viewing these results is:

Total number of males = 160
Total number of females = 30
Total number of ‘mos = 151
Total number of hets' = 39

Towards the winter months a more detailed study (based on data from my rolodex) will be forthcoming.

A chilled Sunday

Juicelog Sun 090706: Sunday is the final day of the weekend but this biblical day means squat diddly in my diary. The afternoon threw a multitude of tasks at me with having to be a intermittent paramedic, mini socialiser and part-time babysitter. Many of the senior managers at work will testify to my robust multi-tasking ability, but this afternoon I slipped up due to third-party amorous induced dribbling factors and ended up having my second favourite drink impounded. This loss was unimportant as it was only a few millilitres but the feeling of being apprehended like a naughty schoolboy gave me a diminutive humiliating and frightening numbness.

Went for a tour afterwards and ended back at Josh, Hilton and Chris’s flat in West Hampstead for a roof garden chillout. Eight chemically induced gayers on the tube got a bit too boisterous, even for the likes of me. Ceaser got so embarrassed he relocated to a different carriage with his shades on. Wasn’t expecting much apart from a cooking lesson from Josh. When he took us up to the roof garden we were presented with a breathtaking view of the London skyline. Their top floor two storey flat was situated quite high up on a very steep hill thus allowing us to see everything from the Gherkin to Wembley Stadium against the exquisite evening sunset.

From the surreal effects of manmade liquid I saw the real beauty of our great manmade city.

Japanese Vs the Swedish way

Juicelog Sat 080706: Whilst picnicing this afternoon I tried to dazzle Marvin by showing him the Japanese way of folding a t-shirt. It's a very neat trick as you can literally fold a t-shirt in a matter of seconds (once the technique has been mastered) . Marvin has got about 16 years of retail experience under his belt and didn't seem to be impressed. After my demo he then picked up the t-shirt and showed me a much simpler Swedish method as used in the H&M stores. As quick as he was, I found his method to lack style with very little technical skill required.

Oh, did I mention that I beat mister speedy fingers in finding the swimming ponds.

Birthday x 3

Juicelog Sun 020706: David, Dan & Paul had their annual joint birthday party this morning. In honour of David M reaching his landmark 40^th, a few alterations were made to this year’s party:

• The venue had moved from David’s house to the Lye Torng bar (in Elephant & Castle).
• Karaoke was replaced by a DJ (Boogaloo Stu).
• A Wild West fancy dress theme was thrown in to distinguish this party from their standard soirees.

Most of the guys came adorned in cowboy regalia with a handful of big chief Indians.

As I arrived super late I caught the tail end of the party before everyone relocated back to David’s place. In the style of Easyjet trolley dollies pointing out the nearest emergency exits, Boiracer Darren and his beau gave us a quick tour of their new flat (which coincidentally happened to be round the corner from David’s place).

I had forgotten how beautiful and picturesque David’s Garden looked in the clear evening/mid-morning moonlight. Was slightly shocked when I found out about K’s lesbian lover during the course of the evening. Courtesy of Plan 9 here are the results of Daddy Jon’s blond project:

Europride

Juicelog Sat 010706: Ten years ago today was when I first went to London Pride. Luckily I still have the memory of my first time. Pride back then was different to what it is now. As a fairly naïve twenty year old I remembered how astonished I was by the whole thing. From getting onto a train carriage jam packed full of queers blowing their whistles to the actual festival at Victoria Park.

Back then I was quite a different person to the individual I am today. At that time I was a geeky looking chemistry student who never drunk any alcohol, was not very sociable and not a very confident person. Due to not being out at university I ended being dragged by the scruff of my white lab jacket by a languages lecturer at UCL into the world of hanky codes and Soho (which had around 8 gay bars / pubs). Unfortunately I have lost contact with this person and his lil’ posse but would love to see him again.

With the shift of the political arena, Pride itself has morphed itself into a day of colourful outfits and partying. A decade later I still find myself being looking forward to the day’s events. I hope to see many of you fantastic folks in ten years time.....

Christen & Juicy:


Londan, Claire, Joe, Nigel & Christen:


Clitty & Juicy:


Londan & Christen:

Leaf dude & Juicy:


Londan, Joe & Claire:


Juicy & Cute Copper: