The officially "Unofficial Gay Car"

The Bangkok Post (via Towleroad) muses on whether cars are made for gay men, or can be made to appeal to gay men, and whether Thailand is ready for gay car marketing. The new Mini Cooper apparently fits the bill, but obviously only when they have zebra stripes do they appeal to the Thai gayboys.

That is so not how the Mini Cooper appeals to western gay men (like me). Even the unreconstructed retrosexuals of Top Gear have put the Mini on their Cool Car Wall as a "subzero car", even though Jeremy Clarkson was praising it with faintness when he said

"they should make a quintessentially German [Mini] giving it trafficators that imitate a Nazi salute and a satnav that only goes to Poland." He concluded by commenting: "Und ein fanbelt that lasts a thousand years!"

Well, the English got thrashed in Germany this year, so they should be finally over the Second World War.

But to stick to the original point, of course the Mini is a gay car: it is an incredible boy magnet that never fails.
Even my cat, who is vehemently opposed to travelling by car, likes sitting on the bonnet of mine.

Rugby, as it should be played

From The Daily Post:

A mysterious group of rugby-playing streakers have given Rotorua residents an eyeful.
Five naked men thought to be in their 20s ran on to the field during an under-13 rugby match at Kahukura Rugby Club, just hours after a bunch of nude blokes reportedly jumped from a passenger coach in Tirau's main street and streaked up the road.
Tirau promotions officer Warren Lee said he thought they were a rugby team on their way home after a defeat and were dared to do it as a punishment from their coach.
Kahukura coach Wayne Fell also thought they were rugby players.
"They were probably on a trip because it was the end of the season," he said. "They were on the plonk, off their trees, and someone dared them to do it so they were away."
After interrupting Saturday's Kahukura v Auckland rugby match, "causing a disturbance", the men jumped into a car and drove off.
Ten minutes later another man streaked across the field, this time wearing a yellow cape. The game's referee, Dave Kahakiwa, tackled him, but the young man got up and ran to a getaway car.
Mr Fell said the children weren't offended; rather the streakers had made them play better.
In another sighting, Jan and Bryan Moran of Papakura spotted five naked young men playing rugby at the Rotorua Lakefront about 3.30pm on Saturday.
"We didn't stop to stare but it was just enough time to see naked bodies," Mrs Moran said.

The rugby streak up Tirau's main road is apparently an unofficial annual event. I would recommend Tirau would make this a tourist attraction, not that it lacks those already with all those wonderful corrugated iron buildings. But think of what it would do for the promotion of rugby as a gentler, kinder and an altogether more hugging sport than the current thuggery one can see on the Rugby Channel. Playing rugby naked has a long tradition and long may it continue. It would attract more viewers and also change the nature of the game: the scrum collapses would result in giggles rather than broken backs, and other nasty deliberate injuries such as eye gouging and unwelcome and unwanted fingers up arses would be a thing of the past. Hell, I might even join a club!

A funny thing happened to me on the road to the Buzzcocks

It must be a sign of my mid-life crisis that I was rather looking forward to going to the Buzzcocks, a punk band I never managed to see first time around in 1977, but I always liked since that Spiral Scratch EP. Now they were playing in Auckland on a comeback tour, so that would make a good birthday present to myself.
Walking up Queen Street to the venue, I was accosted by that perennial gauntlet of Hara Krishna devotees, who, when not chanting and singing on Friday nights, try to engage you in conversation and sell you some of their books. This particular one who latched on to me wasn't half bad looking so I thought: why not play a little game with him to amuse myself.
This is how the conversation went:

The monk: "Hello, can I ask you a question?"
Me: "Sure"
The Monk: " What do you do in your life?"
Me: "I'm a faggot"
The Monk (visibly uncomfortable and squirming): "Professionally?"
(He obviously knew the word and what it meant, even though I hear they're upposed to have no sex lives)
Me: "No, it's my hobby."
(I swear I saw him blush, he avoided any further eye contact and didn't persist in questioning me any further on it.)
The Monk: "I see we have similar hair styles" (and took his cap off revealing his shaved skull with a little rat tail hair do)

I pondered about asking him out on a date but I just knew that would have been a step too far. Instead we chatted about the Hara Krishna restaurant on K Road, which incidentally I can heartily recommend if you want some healthy fast food.
I made my excuse to leave and he never even bothered to try to sell me any tracts.

The Buzzcocks, by the way, were a whole load of nostalgic singalong fun. Just like they used to be. I prayed Pete Shelley would sing "Homo Sapien", but that was as likely as laying the Monk.

On hiatus

It's been incredibly busy at work over the last few weeks, ever since the day I came back from holiday, so I haven't had a chance to do any blogging. My apologies for that. I hope business will resume as soon as possible.
Why don't you guys write the comments for a change?