9 Dead Gay Guys

Nine Gay Dead Guys

The year I went down to London

to actively seek work

was a significant year for me.

Dossing about on the dole

was hardly new to me exactly,

but dossing about on the dole

down in London...

now that was a significant change.

You see, I'm a lazy bastard at the best of times,

But if a dosser like me can find gainful

employment

in the big smoke

then so could anyone.

or at least that's what I told

my best mate Kenny, from Ireland.

Which might explain why you see him here.

My best mate Kenny, over, from Ireland.

Unannounced, unexpectedly visiting,

this lazy bastard

Who, it has to be said, well

It goes without saying,

That lazy bastard's me.

For frig's sake, Kenny,

What the frig are you doing here?

What the frig are you doing here?

More like it.

You look like shite...

I feel like shite.

Rough night, last night, was it?

Yeah

Guess you'd call it that.

What happened there?

What happened where?

There!

Black Death, last night

Black Death, last night...

What?

Call in sick, did you?

you know, work

Your job.

Recruitment Manager

In the city, 18 K.

You don't have one, do you?

Now, I could have lied and said 'yes'

And granted, my mate Kenny he does look stupid,

But let's be honest here.

Look at the state of me.

I had to say

No.

Frig me Byron,

Look at you.

You're a frigging mess.

You're back on the booze again?

For frig's sake, Kenny.

You're giving me a sore head.

That's not me.

That's last night.

What are you down here for anyway?

I'm down here because you told me

the streets of London are paved with gold.

Like shite.

Exactly, like shite.

I think I need a drink.

I think it's me that needs a drink.

Look, Byron.

It's my last fiver.

my one and only.

You don't know any good pub by any

chance, do you?

Aye, I knew a good pub alright.

My best mate Kenny.

Only a wee part of him had fallen for

my story

about the city job.

...two Guinnesses, please.

The larger percentage,

The overruling majority of him had always

suspected

that it was a total load of shite.

Byron?

What?

Still, all the same,

I don't think he could have quite expected this.

Know what I mean?

This is a frigging gay pub!

Aye, I know.

If you know, then what the f*** are

we doing here?

Kenny!

A pub's a pub, a drink's a drink,

And I need a frigging drink.

Now, where's your fiver?

Here.

Well where's your money?

Kenny,

There's detox week

and there's giro week

This is detox week.

you happy?

I'll be happy just as long as

no one talks to us

all right?

Hi, Byron.

Hey, have you heard?

The queen's dead!

The queen dead? No!

Yes, died last night.

Poor b*tch!

Now that, presumably,

was the first gay guy, to my knowledge,

that Kenny has ever met in his

entire life.

At least, it's the first gay guy

he's ever met through me!

And I'll have to be honest with you,

It was far from being the last.

You all right, Kenny?

Just so long as you don't kiss any

more gay guys

on the cheek I'll be all right.

Byron

Hi Jeff.

How are you?

Take a seat and meet my mate Kenny.

He's just come over from Ireland.

Oh, from Ireland, how sweet.

Unfortunately, you Irish boys

tend to get corrupted when you get to London

so my advice to you would be to go

straight back.

Unlike you, I am addicted

to this God-awful city, unfortunately.

Yes, I'm much too old to be a practicing poof,

But I enjoy it rather too much to give it up.

Oh, Byron, have you heard,

Her majesty, her royal highness

is dead.

I did actually.

When did that happen?

Last night.

As much as a paddy would welcome

the abolition of the royal family,

the dead queen in question was unfortunately not

the ruler of England, but was,

in fact, yet another male homosexual.

Or in other words, the queen

was a dead gay guy.

Dead Gay Gay Number One, you might say.

As he was to be the first of nine,

But the only one to be

electrocuted!

Electrocuted?

Yes, with a cattle prod.

With a cattle prod?

Yes, a cattle prod.

I mean that's a Class 5 Offensive Weapon.

Anyway, she's dead.

Regrettably, irredeemably, dead.

Death is a strange thing really.

There's something about death

That makes one feel so very much ... alive.

There's a cruel irony, yes there is,

A cruel irony that while some poor

bastard

is decomposing six feet under,

We're still here, to live

And love.

And shop

and suck.

Now tell me, Byron,

I may be mistaken, but isn't this

your detox week?

Oh, maybe it's your uhh, let me see,

let me see,

Yes, it's your giro week.

Oh, no, no, no,

It's not giro week, Jeff.

Really? So what kind of a week is it?

It's Jeff week.

That's right, it is.

Oh, Byron.

Thank you, Byron.

Thank you very much.

No problem.

Very good this time.

Cheers, Jeff.

There was giro week,

And there was detox week.

Detox was short for detoxification.

Or in other words, finances were low,

Too low to drink the Black Death,

which is a bad thing.

But then I met Jeff,

And detox week became Jeff week,

which was a good thing.

This was Jeff week.

Or in other, other words,

Any week that I drank Jeff,

I would drink the Black Death!

Or not, as it happens.

It was past 11.

Hi.

A bottle of Black Death, please.

No, mate.

Aw c'mon, give us a break.

It's gone 11:
00.

But it's just gone one minute past, though.

Look, it's my license. I ain't laying

it on the line for you.

But it's not just for me, though, is it?

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