Cottage Pie

George Michael. Everybody knows him, everybody recognises him. Some people even love him. I am one of the latter. I thought, 'Yes, what a cool guy. What catchy music. A great looking gay man in leather'. I will never forget the way I swooned over his ability to draw people in when performing live, and the way he moved on screen. I decided when I was five years old, that when I grew up, I would be a man because my Mummy said that George Michael was a funny sort of man who only loved girls as friends, but he liked to kiss men. So that was what I would do.


Turns out you can't really, unless you have big savings and a longing to own a penis. No thankyou. So from the moment I found that out, my love for unbelievably sexy gay men, became sisterly.


But, I heard one day from some media source somewhere (I forget) that George Michael had been found to have been cottaging. What a terrible thing to do. My lovely, gorgeous George. Stealing from cottages. What an awful thing to do. Everyone knows only pensioners live in cottages. Talk about easy targets. And didn't he have enough money?


My faith in George dwindled to almost nothing. Until one evening whilst I was enjoying a beverage or two with friends, it came into conversation, that an old teacher of ours had also been cottaging recently! Oh no! Those poor old people. They had worked all of their lives for that money. Been taxed as they earned it, only to be retaxed when drawing it as a pension, and then have it stolen from their own homes. What was wrong with these people? And why was it only extremely camp people doing it?! Mr Spink had never actually said he was gay, but he had the walk, the wrist, and the constantly shocked expression.


Apparently Mr Spink, had also ransacked a tea room. With men he didn't even know! It gets worse.


I do have a passionate loathing for Google. It shows my flaws, of which I didn't think I had many.


But on this occasion, I would have dropped to my knees and kissed the feet of Google, rather than get the right royal ripping that I got. Of course I was more naive back then (and probably still am now) than a ten year old with twitter. You will have known what an idiot I was, throughout my telling of this tale.


For clarity's sake, and for the sake of George's reputation (not that it will improve it that greatly in this judgmental world). Cottaging is not robbing old people of their miniscule pensions and World War 2 medals.


And for Mr Spink's rep, I feel I must make it clear, that ransacking one's tearoom, is the same thing as cottaging, only not in this country. Australia or the US if i remember correctly.


Teribbly sorry George and Spinky. My mistake. Keep on with whatever it is you... do.