Ah, sleep it is a wonderful and yet strange thing. But in my case it is elusive. My insomnia had kicked into overdrive this week and no amount of dreams about the changing rooms for the England squad will entice my subconscious into letting me pass out.

Of course all my good intentions of using any time I have awake to do household chores to lull me into unconsciousness has failed and instead I lie there and think of Dominic Monaghan stranded on a desert island with only my good self for company....

Tonight I plan on finally watching Brokeback Mountain (I know, I know BAD GAY for not seeing it before) but I actually doubt I can garner up the energy to press play on the DVD player. What I need is a good man to wear me out. Even Rohypnol would be welcome at this stage!

Aside from the lack of sleep, this week has been rather nice. X-men 3 was entertaining and exciting in a summer blockbuster kind of way. I felt the 100 minute running time hindered rather than helped the film as they had crammed so much into it that I was left wanting more. Also, was it me or did Vinne Jones' costume rather resemble a large penis? You know, the veiny, bulky body topped off with the rather phallic helmet?

As I wake up this morning in a rum soaked haze I remember something very strange and wonderful from last nights Eurovision.

When called upon for his scores the male judge from The Netherlands flirted with the Male TV presenter and asked if he wanted his number now or later. The Show's presenter replied "Later will do, but I bet it is 69 69 69"

How camp is that. Full on gay flirting in front of an audience of millions. HILAR.

Eurovision, as ever was Marvelous. My good friend Aleasha held a wigtastic evening complete with more home made food and cake than anyone could possibly ask for. I was disappointed that Germany's fabulous country and western number didn't rank higher than it did....

Or the utterly camp Sibel from Turkey with her Kylie cast-off 'Superstar' complete with pretty British male dancers as back up....


As you can see from the pictures below, Aleasha has a wig fetish that even the delectable Lee would have trouble competing with and of course they were worn all evening. Sadly, I never managed to get any photos of myself in one, but one may appear at some time or other from a friends camera in the meantime meet some friends of mine...

The BEAUTIFUL and talented MS Marika Martini

Our beneficial hostess and entertainer Dame Aleasha Swiffer.

I have had more rum punch than is seemly. In fact you can tell I had had too much when I began desperately sucking at the watermelon in the punch bowl in the hope that it had absorbed more alcohol. Not my most dignified hour, but I did take a cab ride home with someone who has the Prime-Ministers telephone number in their mobile and managed to refrain from 'borrowing' it to leave him dirty voicemails......

Tomorrow is set aside for a nice relaxed Sunday lunch with my ex-housemate the Princess. I do hope wigs are involved again.

Sorry for the lack of updates folks, but this past week my life has been as dull as a Big
Brother contestants post show career.

I know, I know, I promised myself that this year I wouldn't watch it but House
was being recorded and ERwas not on until late that evening so what was
a boy to do??

Well what this boy did was hide his eyes behind his hands at the appalling
sub-species of humanity that they managed to dredge up for this years show.
Again, the public perception of homosexuality has been knocked back 20
years by the two (so-far) stereotypes vomited up on our screen.   I really find
the groups incredibly unlikable so far with the possible exception of Lisa who
just seems mad but sweet.

I know it is way too early to tell for sure and that they were all trying to put on
a show for their first night.   But seriously.   They are all so crazy and eccentric
its difficult to watch.  I get enough of that at work and home!

George and Mikey are ok though, if you removed their ability to think or speak.

Oh blogosphere beware. Whilst home, I got my Birthday present early and it is my very first DIGITAL CAMERA!

No hot boy on the street/tube/bed is safe now and expect plenty of narcissistic shots of myself wearing various funny wigs/hats/cocktails.

One worrying trend to come out of my trip home seems to be a new penchant for wearing shirts? Is this the bloody age thing creeping up on me again or is it just because short sleeved shirts are cool in summer? hmmm

Well dear, dear people. I survived my trip to Middlesbrough and am back with my dignity and my virginity intact. My goddaughter is going to grow up to be a heartbreaker indeed and coupled with her mischievous but lovable nature, I can see why they chose me to be her, ahem, spiritual advisor.

Now, things move back into their normal routine. I shall be seeing x-men 3:Hugh Jackman's Pants next week followed, on Saturday, by the Gay Event of the year. Yes, the Eurovision Song Contest is upon us again. Although, frankly I can't see what the rest of Europe gets out of it as they don't have Terry Wogan's wonderfully sarcastic commentary to listen too. Come on people it cant all be about the frocks and dance routines you know, no matter what the gay handbook says. There has to be at least some bitching involved...

Well seeing as I have to leave you dear, dear people I thought I would leave you with a few things to entertain yourself with while I am away. SO I scoured the internet (Don't worry, I had my marigolds on) and found these two wonderful games to keep you occupied.

Firstly we have Asphyxiate David Blaine , where you get to make the twat in the bubble do nasty things to his smug self.

And secondly, for all you pop culture vultures and celebrity aficionados out there we have a game where you have to guess the celebrity from the trash in their bins IN Celebrite Poubelle Magnifique

Think of me whilst I am in the cultural wasteland that is the North East of England. I don't think they have internet connection in Middlesbrough, but if I manage to get online I may try and post a cry for help.... Adieu

AH, the summer sun. A time for boys to go shirtless and drip ice-cream down their naked, muscled torso’s and for gays and girls to find a nice bench to sit and watch them from. Sadly, I have not had time today as I had to play the good citizen and go and vote this morning for the local elections. I shuidder to think that I had to set foot in a “Community centre” to do so. I had visions of tobaccos stained old men playing dominos and wheezing and troubled teens vandelizing the building and snorting coke off of the formica counters.

Luckily it was nothing like back home in Middlesbrough and the people were all very friendly and nice. There was a little bookstall on the way in selling second-hand paperbacks for 20p each. I had an attack of middle-class guilt though and paid £2 for one instead. See, I think I earn extra karma points today.

I have to dash across the river at lunchtime today to purchase a new shirt and some shoes for the christening. 2 things I absolutely loathe shopping for, I may have to have a G&T to perk me up after before I head back to work.

Wish me luck…

I was trying to be all arty with my friend Jason in the Cemetary behind my house. I rather like this picture, I think it perfectly captures my innocence. AHEM...

Well what another terminally dull bank holiday weekend. Dr Dick is away again so no entertainment on that front, all my housemates have mysteriously vanished and the incessant rain is preventing me from going out unless my hair turns into a Jewfro again.

In a vain attempt to pamper myself to make me feel better I had a nice relaxing bubble bath. Relaxing in the sense that there were so many bubbles I could hide the unsightly form of my naked body under them and relax by banishing all thought of the gym or exercise out of my mind.

This weekend I have to perfect my disguise for an undercover mission I have been asked to undertake. A suit will be pressed, new shiny shoes bought and a respectable haircut and shave makeover put in place. No, I am not taking over from Daniel Craig as the new James Bond, but I will be venturing into a church for the first time in 20 years to become godfather (for the second time) to my friends new baby daughter Freya.

All I have to do it renounce the Devil (It's ok, we fell out years ago when he never returned my copy of Priscilla Queen of the Desert). The father says that is ok to mutter etc... under my breath when asked to teach the baby about Jesus too. Now all I have to do is hope that I haven't slept with the priest!