05/10/2026
I'm just going to say this before anybody starts foaming at the mouth. I'm not homophobic. I couldn't give a f**k if you're gay. If you're a bloke and you fancy blokes, crack on. If you're a woman and you fancy women, crack on. Get married, adopt twelve f**king Labradors and spend Sunday arguing in IKEA like everybody else.
But what the f**k happened after that?
Because I remember LGBT.
I could just about keep up with that.
Then it became LGBTQ. Then LGBTQ+. Then LGBTQIA+. Then LGBTQIA2S+.
F**k me. I used to think LGBT was a sandwich. Lettuce, guacamole, bacon and tomato. Then the Q arrived and I thought somebody had added f**king quiche.
Now it looks like somebody's Wi-Fi password.
And that's before you even get into the rest of it.
Non-binary, genderfluid, genderqueer, agender, bigender, trigender, pangender, polygender, demigender, demiboy, demigirl, genderflux, androgyne, neutrois, maverique, xenogender, genderfae, genderfaun.
Then there's he/him, she/her, they/them, he/they, she/they, he/she/they, it/its, ze/hir, ze/zir, zie/hir, xe/xem, ey/em, e/em, ve/ver, ne/nem, per/per, co/cos, thon/thon, ae/aer and fae/faer.
Still with me?
Because we're not f**king finished.
Bun/bunself. Pup/pupself. Cat/catself. Star/starself. Moon/moonself. Void/voidself.
VOIDSELF.
What the f**k am I supposed to do with that?
"Excuse me, is this seat taken?"
"Void."
"Right. I'll f**king stand."
And somewhere along the way we've also got furries. Grown adults dressed as cats, dogs, foxes and f**king dragons. People meowing. People barking. People crawling around on all fours. I've seen people dressed as dogs doing obstacle courses with an audience cheering them on like f**king Crufts has accidentally booked the wrong convention centre.
Imagine being an alien arriving on Earth and that's the first thing you see.
You'd put the f**king spaceship in reverse.
"No intelligent life here.
One of them's dressed as a border collie and somebody's just given him a biscuit."
And I'm sorry, but some of the videos are f**king spectacular. You've got somebody with luminous green hair looking like they've escaped from Fraggle Rock, absolutely screaming into another person's face because they've used the wrong pronoun.
How the f**k was he supposed to know?
You need a f**king laminated flowchart.
"Hello."
"HOW DARE YOU."
"I haven't said anything yet."
"EXACTLY."
This is the bit I don't understand. Be whoever you want to be. Love whoever you want to love. Wear whatever you want. Dye your hair green. Dress as a dragon. Call yourself Moonbeam. Spend Saturday crawling around the NEC pretending to be a f**king spaniel if that's what gets you through the week.
I genuinely don't care.
But don't demand that everybody else joins in.
My view is that there are two genders, male and female. You can disagree with me. That's fine. We can disagree about things without one of us spontaneously f**king combusting.
What I won't do is memorise an ever-expanding dictionary because somebody somewhere has decided this week that they're fae/faer, void/voidself and spiritually a f**king woodland fox.
We've somehow taken "live and let live", which was perfectly f**king simple, and turned it into a terms-and-conditions document.
You live your life. I'll live mine.
I'll call you by your name. I'll treat you like a human being. I won't give a flying f**k who you sleep with.
But if you start barking at me, I'm throwing a f**king tennis ball.
Author unknown.
