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Malachi and the Lost Gold of Saussignac

A Magical Adventure by Stevie Smith 

Part One: The Boy in the Garden

Once upon a time, in the heart of a mystical French village called Saussignac, lived a magical little boy named Malachi. He had recently moved into a grand, enchanted house nestled among endless vineyards, and from the moment he arrived, he knew it was no ordinary place.

Malachi loved his new home. It was full of secrets, with winding corridors and hidden rooms yet to be discovered. He spent his days with his loyal friends: Frankie, the bouncy dog; Bob, the wise old retriever; Charlie, the unimpressed three-legged cat; and his cheeky imaginary companion, Popo le Tech, who was always up to mischief.

The garden outside was wild and overgrown, with brambles and weeds as tall as trees. Though far too messy for playing, it was filled with mystery. Beyond it stretched miles of golden vineyards, rustling in the summer breeze.

One sunny afternoon, as Malachi gazed out of his bedroom window, he spotted something peculiar—a boy in their garden! He was digging furiously, as though searching for something hidden deep underground.

“Look! What is that boy doing in our garden?” Malachi cried.

Bob lifted his head, let out an excited little fart, and barked at Frankie, “Let’s go see!” The two dogs bounded downstairs like furry cannonballs.

Charlie, curled on the windowsill, stretched lazily. “Dogs,” he muttered. “So dramatic.”

Malachi dashed downstairs, accidentally knocking into Grandma Nanson, who was mid-yoga pose.

“Take your shoes off before you come back in!” she huffed from her Downward Dog pose.

Popo le Tech bounced over her with a giggle. “Keep your hair on, Gran!” he called, pulling a silly face that made everyone laugh—except Charlie, who just rolled his eyes.

Outside, the boy in ragged clothes continued to dig.

“That’s our garden!” Malachi shouted.

The boy spun around, startled. He was pale and thin, his eyes hollow.

“Please,” he said softly. “Help me.”

Bob gently licked the boy’s hand, then turned to fetch Grandma—but the boy raised his hand. “No,” he whispered. “Only you can see me.”

Malachi’s eyes widened. “Who are you?”

“My name is Paul,” the boy said. “I lived here, many years ago. My family was happy… until the pirates came.”

“Pirates?” Malachi gasped.

“Yes. They came one night—led by the evillest pirate of all, Captain Steven, and his cruel second-in-command, Smithers. They stole everything. Even the birthday cake my mum baked for my gran’s seventy-eighth!”

“They locked up the grown-ups and kidnapped the children, forcing us to work on their dreadful ship.”

Malachi’s mouth dropped open.

“Only Grandma escaped,” Paul added with a grin. “She talked so much they dropped her off ten villages away to get some peace!”

Frankie barked with amusement.

“My best friend, Le Tech, and I snuck into their supply cart and found a chest of gold—more treasure than you can imagine. We buried it right here, in this garden. One day, we hoped to return and throw a feast for the whole village.”

“But… you didn’t come back?” Malachi asked.

“We were caught,” Paul said grimly. “Le Tech was made to walk the plank. I was spared, but I spent years as their prisoner.”

Now Paul looked desperate. “Captain Steven is coming back—with a new crew of horrors, including One-Eyed John, who’s rumoured to eat pets! We must find the gold before they do. But no grown-ups can know. And definitely not the cat.”

Charlie sniffed indignantly. “Charming.”

“If the treasure is returned to the villagers,” Paul continued, “a magical fairy will appear to drive the pirates away—and reunite the families they took.”

Malachi glanced at the kitchen window. Grandma Nanson was now wearing a green face mask and fussing about sand on the floor.

He looked back at Paul—and then at his brave companions. They all nodded.

“Alright,” Malachi said. “We’ll find the gold and save the village.”

Popo le Tech did a backflip and whooped, “Adventure time!”

And so, under the Saussignac sun, a magical boy, two loyal dogs, a reluctant cat, a mischievous imaginary friend, and a boy from the past began their quest…

Part Two: The Pirate Gardeners

The next morning, Malachi awoke to golden sunlight streaming across his bedroom floor. He stretched and yawned. Outside, Popo le Tech was already playing with Bob and Frankie.

Paul was still fast asleep beside him.

“Wake up,” Malachi whispered. “It’s treasure time.”

Downstairs, Grandma was on the phone.

“I want you to meet someone,” she said, waving them over.

Standing behind her were two large men in muddy boots and overalls.

“These are the new gardeners,” Grandma explained.

The men turned. One wore a wide-brimmed hat and had eyes like ice.

“I’m Mr Steven,” he said. “Would you like to walk the—uh—plank? I mean, some sweets?”

“No thanks,” Malachi said quickly.

The second man stepped forward. “I’m John,” he grinned, licking his lips as he looked at the pets. “What delicious—I mean, what cuddly animals.”

The dogs growled. Even Charlie hissed.

“No children in the garden,” Mr Steven snapped. “We’re digging it all up.”

“Why?” Malachi asked.

“For your grandma’s birthday surprise,” John said. “Is she turning seventy-six by any chance?”

“I’m thirty-nine!” Grandma snapped. “Honestly!”

Later, when the “gardeners” weren’t looking, Paul pulled Malachi aside.

“It’s them,” he whispered. “The pirates. They’re back.”

“We have to find the treasure before they do,” said Malachi. “And protect the fairy.”

“The gold is under this house,” said Le Tech, appearing beside them. “The pirates must’ve found one of the old maps.”

“But how do we reach it?” Paul asked.

“We’ll need a map of the house,” said Malachi. “And we must find a way underneath.”

The children and pets slipped out the back door unnoticed. The race had begun.

Meanwhile, behind the hedge, Mr Steven scowled.

“That boy knows something.”

“We should tie up the gran and torture her with a curling iron,” John hissed. “Make Malachi walk the plank!”

“And the pets?”

“Eat them!” John cackled.

“Not yet,” Steven growled. “First we get the gold.”

Part Three: The Fairy Awakens

“Oh no,” said Gran, wearing a green beauty mask to look extra pretty for her birthday. “The garden’s not looking very good.”

She leaned out of the window and called to the gardeners, “I don’t think this is right! Can you come in to discuss it?”

John looked shocked as he stared with his one good eye.

“It’s a hideous sea witch!” he screamed.

“Just act natural,” said Captain Steve, giving a wink. “It’s only that overly chatty Gran.”

As they came inside, Gran—being kind—offered them some water but insisted they take off their shoes.

This was a big mistake.

Not only did their feet stink, but their socks were full of holes—and worms crawled out of their boots onto the clean floor.

Gran screamed. “My lovely floors!”

Then she noticed something even worse. The floorboards near the kitchen sink were starting to lift.

She couldn’t believe it. “What on earth is going on?”

“Get her!” barked Captain Steve. “Tie her to the chair and gag her to shut her up. We’ll send her miles away where no one can hear her complaining. Or feed her to the sharks!”

John was only too happy to oblige. Gran put up a good fight and managed to cover him in green slime, but he tied her to a white chair in the living room, took off his stinky sock, and shoved it in Gran’s mouth.

Part Four: The Midnight Dig

That night, all was still.

Suddenly, sparkles of light danced across Malachi’s bedroom. Bob farted with surprise and nudged Frankie awake.

Malachi opened his eyes. “Look!”

A beautiful fairy floated before them. “I am Mirabella,” she said. “You’ve done well, brave Malachi. The treasure lies under the kitchen wall. Dig, and my spirit will be released—and the villagers will be free.”

“I’m too small to dig,” Malachi whispered.

“We’ll help,” said Charlie with a sigh. “No one ever lets a cat rest!”

Mirabella sprinkled fairy dust over them all. They hurried to the garden, guided by her light.

Part Five: Victory

Captain Steven was furious. “We’ll make Malachi scrub the decks forever! Let’s find that gold!”

Suddenly, the floorboards burst open with a blast of golden light.

Out came Malachi, Bob, Frankie, Charlie—and the glowing treasure chest.

“It’s okay, Gran,” Malachi said, untying her. “We’ve found the gold. And those aren’t gardeners—they’re pirates!”

The pirates screamed and began evaporating into thin air.

“I’ll be back!” Captain Steven howled.

The garden filled with glowing spirits—the villagers the pirates had once taken. They smiled at Malachi.

“Thank you,” said Paul and Le Tech. “We can rest now.”

Mirabella hovered above them. “Call my name three times if ever you need me.”

And with that, she vanished into the stars.

Epilogue

Later that day, Malachi’s mums returned.

“Terrible gardeners,” one muttered. “They’ve wrecked the garden.”

“Mum, we met pirates! And a fairy! And I found gold!”

“What an imagination,” they laughed.

That night, as Malachi drifted off to sleep, he looked under his pillow.

There were twelve gold coins.

Outside, thunder rumbled.

A voice echoed on the wind:

“I WILL BE BACK! YOU WILL WALK THE PLANK!”

The End.

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” I just love gay men “

“Fag Hag” – `’ ALL My Friends are Gay !!”

By Steven Smith

‘Fag hag’ or beard is a gay slang phrase referring to women who associate generally or exclusively with gay or bisexual men. But you knew that already, didn’t you?

Now, I hate labels of any kind, but when a woman tells me, “I love the gays,” my toes curl. Even my nephew, at thirteen, was smart enough not to fall for that one. “They’re just like everyone else—good and bad,” he shrewdly pointed out. It’s funny in Ab Fab when Edina blurts out, “All my friends are gay.” Oh, the irony.

However, women who proudly label themselves as fag hags often raise serious red flags. I’ve heard it too many times: “Other women just don’t get me, but you and the gay guys do.” This is usually followed by something about liking bad boys in bed. That’s nice for them. Me? I want to be liked for who I am—not for my sexuality or a label.

On my first visit to a gay club—New York’s Limelight—I noticed lots of model-type women dancing. My friend said, “They feel safe here. They can dance and not get hit on.” It wasn’t long before straight men caught onto this and started frequenting the more glamorous gay venues. One night, I was with a group of guys when a stunning girl approached and said, “So sad you’re all gay. I’d f*** the lot of you!”

A little voice piped up, “I’m straight.” It was my pal who, though he leads the way in gay fashion, is 100% straight. Many men have tried their luck with him—the lady and him were in a taxi home minutes later.

Elizabeth Taylor. Wowza.


She loved the company of gay men—from Rock Hudson to Tab Hunter and Montgomery Clift—calling them her confidants. Tallulah Bankhead, when she wasn’t famously trying to sleep with gay men, preferred their company too. Even Mary Queen of Scots liked to quote the pretty men.

As for me—I just like people. It just so happens many of my closest friends are women: glamorous, powerful, and fabulous. But none of them would call themselves fag hags. With them, I’m still the old-fashioned gent: opening doors, walking roadside on the pavement, even pulling out chairs. Though some of these women try to lead while dancing—and pull out my chair instead.

Despite having my picture taken for a dating site, I’m no further along in love. One of my rocks, Liz Branson, is on the phone from her New York office. She splits her time between there, Dubai, and London.

“Have you done it?” she asks. Trying to change the subject, I ask when she’s next in London. There’s a pause.

“You haven’t,” she snaps, irritated. Then she barks: “Jo Allen’s. Tuesday. 9:30.” She doesn’t wait to see if I’m free—and hangs up. Ten minutes later, she texts: “If you are free, can you book it?”

Liz is great fun—always right, obsessively so at times. That’s part of what makes her successful, alluring, and fascinating. She’s also always late, often with some story. The truth? It takes her half an hour to oil her body so it glistens. That’s just part of her prep to go out. Despite her brass balls in business and her ability to crush high-powered men, she still likes to be every inch the high-maintenance woman.

She’s my Grace—as in Will & Grace. But it’s a myth that all women “get” gay men just because they hang out with us. Even women who say, “I’m a gay man trapped in a woman’s body,” can be shockingly naive.

The brilliant Will and Grace

A long-time friend recently remarked, after a theatre visit, that I’d loved the show because it had five scantily dressed young men. As pretty as they were, they left me sexually cold. She must’ve missed the memo—none of my boyfriends have been under 40.

My best gay mate knows that the cast of Peaky Blinders or Colin Farrell gets my pulse racing. Teen boys? They’re like watching Dita Von Teese dance—entertaining, but that’s all. This same friend once asked, “Why would you want to give head rather than take?” Well…

Peaky Blinders Top Men

Liz, for the record, didn’t really know any gay men before me—aside from one man who lived with her as straight and came out later. I think she assumed we all came from the same mould. She even rushed into another relationship with a gay man who promptly took her to gay bars and more.

Personally, I think friendships should be mutual. I’m fine in straight bars, and when I do visit gay bars, it’s usually for dinner or an event. Once, Liz called whispering: “I’m on Clapham Common.” Thinking there was a concert, I asked what was on. “No,” she replied, “I’m cruising with— Have you done this?” I nearly screamed. That was a step too far. That relationship ended when the guy tried to seduce Liz’s then-husband.

It wasn’t the first time I heard of women going cruising with gay men. My former boss was in a Freedom cab once when the driver said he was dropping condoms off at Hampstead Heath. She piped up, “Oh, I’ve been there!” Her gay friends had taken her. This phenomenon passed me by. I don’t cruise—it’s scary. And as broad-minded as I am, why would you take a woman?

Colin Farrell a dream .

Anyway—Liz is late again. She’s texted multiple times, blaming an Uber driver, a lion escaping from Regent’s Park Zoo, and a fire at a local orphanage. But when she finally arrives, she looks spectacular, and the whole restaurant turns to stare. Liz waves, hair glossy, eyes sparkling.

She’s now vegan—though she was already a nightmare in restaurants. After sending an omelette back four times once, I took a photo of the “perfect” omelette and handed it to the waiter the next day. She wasn’t amused—but it was funny.

Back to the evening. Only one waiter and one chef resigned since she placed her order—kidding. I suggest popping to Tesco for the soya sauce she insists on. That goes down like a lead balloon, as usual. She has everyone fussing over her.

There’s the usual gossip: a gorgeous executive she went skinny dipping with in Dubai (amazing in bed—15 years younger—is that too much?). Then, yet again, she brings up Darryl, the best sex of her life, who turned out to be a complete asshole. I’ve heard about him 90 times.

The good thing about Liz—she’s no energy vampire. She wants to know about you. Unfortunately, she’s fixated on my love life. She thinks my best pal and I should be together. “Why aren’t you with someone?” she asks.

People often miss this: gay men can have purely platonic friendships with other gay men. Of course, I love my best mate—but I have no plans to marry him. I joke, “Fine. I’ll propose next week.” Liz screams and wants champagne—until I admit I’m joking. Her face falls (as much as it can, post-Botox).

We laugh, drink, and just when I think we’re winding down, Liz insists we head to Old Compton Street. “Why?” I ask. She loves G-A-Y, apparently. But my gut tells me she’s obsessing about finding me a fella. I suggest Radio Bar instead. Blank look.

There’s no queue at G-A-Y. Inside, Liz grabs a drink and immediately turns into Cilla Black, introducing me to random men. “Who do you like?” she shouts. I feel like a rabbit in the headlights. “I’ll be discreet,” she yells. “I’m all good, thanks,” I say, hugging her.

She dances with drag queens and shouts, “I’m a gay icon!” Naturally, they all agree. She’s no Madonna or Judy, but for one night—she was. It was actually quite sweet.

Flushed with her success, we head to Rupert Street to meet a friend. Her one-woman show goes down well there too. I brief her beforehand not to mention dating him. She thinks he’s too young, so I’m safe.

Then Liz starts chatting to the handsome doorman—who’s straight and married. He calls me over: “Why don’t you take your girlfriend somewhere she can meet a man?” I grin. “She wanted to come here—not me.”

Who says she couldn’t meet a man there? My sister had a holiday romance with a gay club manager in Key West. Another female friend married a bartender from a gay bar.

So, Liz and I are still happily single—but watch this space for more

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“Stop the world—I need to get off!”

Steven’s Viewz

“Stop the world—I need to get off!”

I hear many of you saying that in these bizarre and often crazy times. You could be forgiven for wondering if the great God (if you believe in such an entity) might reach down and reply, “Sure! Will you be paying for that in crypto, Bitcoin, or the old-fashioned pound?”
He may even offer you one of His NFT-signed art posters, promising that once you re-join Earth, it will have quadrupled in value—guaranteeing your return comes with a bang and, most certainly, millionaire status… well, in crypto land, at least. Just as Alice drops through a hole in search of it all.

Let’s give some extra love for Tracey Emin’s  Digital Editions.

Well, I found myself asking what an NFT is last year. I keep hearing it mentioned at events and parties. A friend visiting LA called and said,
“Darling, you’re no one here if you’re not into NFTs or crypto.”
Cue the sinking feeling—like when someone tries to sell me a multi-level marketing scheme.
“People felt the same about stamps when they started,” she added.

Fair point. Our great-grans kept money under the mattress after losing trust in banks during the Great Depression of 1929. And let’s not even get started on Lehman Brothers filing for bankruptcy in 2008, leaving people penniless and robbed of their life savings.

NFT (Non-Fungible Token) is a record on a blockchain associated with a particular digital or physical asset. Ownership is recorded and transferable via the blockchain, making NFTs something that can be sold or traded.

So what is an NFT in relation to art? An NFT is a digital asset that exists purely in the digital world—you can’t touch it, but you can own it. It can take the form of any digital file: an artwork, an article, music, or even a meme. For instance, Disaster Girl, the original photo, sold for $500K earlier this year.

Disaster Girl original photo sold as an NFT for $500k

But is it the emperor’s new clothes? For every artist who champions NFT art, there are others who won’t touch this new way of trading. Boy George has opened his own digital platform: www.cryptoqueenznft.com. Though he hasn’t sold through auction houses like Sotheby’s or Christie’s, his work has fetched significant sums at charity events—and he certainly has talent. Tracey Emin has also joined the NFT art scene alongside several well-known artists. But many remain firmly against it.

In Business of Business, a piece titled Artists Against NFT quoted Zilch, an Atlanta-based artist:
“Personally, I’m against NFTs. However, we have to acknowledge that the system exists. It still requires regulation—it’s not a free-for-all, unmoderated space where all hell breaks loose. Systems get made, systems get abused, then they get regulated.”

London saw its first NFT gallery, Quantus Gallery, open earlier this year. The star-studded launch featured Ant Middleton, makeup model Jodie Kidd, and the dashing Callum Best, mingling with socialites, City boys, and what looked like would-be Kray brothers. It was a glamorous and eclectic crowd—and the buzz was undeniable.

Art is subjective, and let’s not forget where the term con artist comes from. A brilliant salesman can sell snow to an Eskimo. It’s the same with paintings. Remember ART, the award-winning play? Serge, indulging his taste for modern art, buys an expensive, completely white painting. Marc is horrified. Their friendship unravels over what constitutes “art,” while Yvan tries to play peacemaker. Art, ultimately, is what you decide it is.

Every wise boy seems to be dipping into crypto. I’m absolutely convinced that, like in multi-level marketing, some will make a mint—and others will get burnt. At one point, my inbox was flooded with “get rich with crypto or Bitcoin” invitations. I nearly joined one, as many top business names were involved. But during the meeting, it became clear they were investing in… well, something that wasn’t quite there.
“We’re hoping to get Adele and Tom Cruise involved,” they said. Apparently, people will pay thousands to sit at a computer in NFT sunglasses. I guess people have spent fortunes on dressing up avatars in virtual games for years. It certainly helped the Kardashians build their portfolio.

But when I asked what Adele’s or Tom Cruise’s agents thought of all this, the answers were vague. It was clearly a wish list. I followed my instinct and said: “No, thank you.” A year later, despite the impressive credentials of its founders, the venture has gone nowhere.

There’s definitely a strong element of the hard sell from NFT enthusiasts. Personally, I’d still take the advice of my financial advisors and avoid anything with a gambling edge—especially if you have an addictive personality or can’t afford to lose. Most serious investors in high-end art use qualified advisors and buy through reputable auction houses or galleries that mentor their artists. They often request first refusal if the work is resold.

NFT art is certainly something to watch. If you have disposable income, then by all means—fill your boots. But in a volatile market, with crypto prices constantly swinging, it’s not something that helps me sleep at night.

I asked a woman who’s doing an incredible job promoting NFTs how she was paid. As she knocked back a glass of champagne, she replied:
“God, money, darling!”
That said it all to me.

Added Note: Buying Art as an Investment

Added Note: Buying Art as an Investment

When buying art as an investment, choose wisely. While some artists are natural-born salespeople—able to “sell snow to Eskimos,” as the saying goes—it’s important to remember that enthusiasm and charm are not guarantees of long-term value.

Be cautious when you hear the phrase “It sold at auction.” This often refers to a charity auction or fundraising dinner—not a prestigious sale at Christie’s or Sotheby’s. There is a significant difference between these venues in terms of how the sale reflects on an artwork’s market value and provenance.

Reputable artists are usually represented by established and well-known galleries for a reason. These galleries not only help manage the artist’s career but also serve to protect the integrity and long-term value of their work. Many of them will request first refusal if you ever decide to resell the artwork, helping maintain consistency and trust in the secondary market.

Serious collectors often work with art consultants or experts to guide their purchases—again, to protect the investment’s value. There are always exceptions in the art world, of course, but if you’re not properly informed or protected, and an artist has persuaded you their work is worth £50,000, don’t be surprised or disappointed if, when it comes time to resell, it turns out not to be worth the canvas it’s painted on.

Art should be enjoyed and loved, but if you’re buying with investment in mind, do your homework—and seek trusted advice.

END

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Steven’s Viewz How to Give a Bad or Good Dinner Party

it is not always the food that makes a perfect dinner party

Steven’s Viewz
How to Give a Bad Dinner Party

In the ’70s and ’80s, dinner parties were a regular thing. With shows like Come Dine with Me and the rising costs of eating out, dinner parties are making a huge comeback. Though some still entertain at venues such as restaurants, there’s nothing more intimate and fun than having a group of friends—or interesting people—over to your home for a private dinner party. But as much as a good host can make it a terrific night to remember, the wrong recipe for an evening can lead to a dinner party your guests will talk about for weeks—for all the wrong reasons.

When you’re hosting for wine connoisseurs or food gourmets, the conversation may revolve around cuisine and drink. But believe it or not, the best dinner parties don’t always centre on either. Of course, putting on a good show that doesn’t have you locked away in the kitchen all night is still a good idea.

In fact, one of the most amusing dinner parties I attended began with a call from a hostess who, not being known for her culinary skills and usually opting to dine out, invited me over to see her new kitchen. The day after the invite, she phoned:
“Darling, would you do your marvellous chicken fajitas on Friday?”
Asking was she planning a potluck (when everyone brings a course), Fajitas , don’t travel well. There was a pause before she added, “Oh, I thought you could cook?”
I replied, “No, it’s your turn,” and hung up!

Not my chicken fajitas , Mine look better .

I arrived at her stunning Hampstead home on the Friday. The table was beautifully set, and the new oven was lit—I was suitably impressed. The hostess had that pleased-with-herself look written all over her face; in fairness, this wasn’t her forte. Wine flowed, and nibbles were served, but an hour and a half later, no food had appeared. Looking at the oven, the chicken was still as raw as it had been on the Waitrose shelf.
“My love, is the oven actually working?” I gently enquired.

An hour later, we were still no further along. The hostess declared the new oven faulty and called for Chinese. We laughed and put the world to rights until two-thirty in the morning—it was just an amazing night.

It was topped off by a call on Tuesday: the repairman said the oven wasn’t broken—she’d simply forgotten to turn it on. I couldn’t help but ask when she was auditioning for Come Dine with Me. how she was going to cook ?
She replied, “Darling, you’re coming over and doing it for me!”

However, for your standard dinner party—especially if you’re not ordering in—don’t cook something that keeps you in the kitchen half the night or that hasn’t been tried and tested. Your guests have come to see you, not watch you stress. Pre-cooking as much as possible is always wise.

Also, always check what your guests eat. At one dinner I attended, they served an enormous piece of goat’s cheese as a starter. Honestly, I’d rather suck someone’s feet than eat that. I used the trick of eating without chewing, washing it down with water. Every time I looked at the plate, it seemed no smaller. Eventually, the host noticed, and I had to admit defeat. They looked less than impressed.

It’s smart to have eggs or a vegan option on standby—just in case a guest hasn’t disclosed their dietary needs.

What really makes a dinner party memorable is the company. Years ago, a socialite who was an expert at entertaining shared some tips with me. Never bring the same type of people together. Lady X would be far more intrigued sitting next to an up-and-coming artist than another socialite. Invite those who can sing for their supper—interesting, amusing guests who can tell a good story or keep up with the latest in books, style, or theatre.

Dinner or lunch party’s can be great but think it out first .

Bring five actors together (unless they’re in the same production) and you risk them trying to outdo each other.

Being a good host is more than just checking glasses and topping up wine. It’s about ensuring your guests are enjoying themselves and actually get to speak. We’ve all been to that dinner where the narcissist dominates the conversation—and even when they pause, they jump back in to reclaim the spotlight. As host, it’s your role to steer the conversation so quieter guests also get a chance. Ask about books, films, theatre—whatever might draw them out.

And please, don’t try to be controversial. Sure, a lively debate can be great—if you know your guests well—but don’t go looking for drama. It could end your night on a sour note.

Avoid topics like age, weight, salaries, and politics. One evening, a guest at a dinner I hosted turned to another and said, “You know, when we get to our age it all needs a little lift—but I love my forties.”
The guest was livid: “I’m 32!” she cried, getting up and leaving the table.

Let the conversation flow. Unless you’re lucky enough to have a Stephen Fry at your table, make sure everyone has a voice. And never, ever be the Machiavellian host who opens the night with, “So, who voted for Brexit?!”

Do not be that machiavellian host and try and spark controversy .

One of the worst dinner parties I’ve attended had all the wrong ingredients. We were eating out, so the food was decent—for some. There were quite a few of us, and things started badly: someone I love had reprimanded another guest for being late, which was rich coming from them. Pot, kettle, black, I thought. They’ve never been on time in their life. When I pointed that out, offence was taken—and they were still seething as we arrived.

Our host, Mark—though lovely and amusing—wanted to talk about one topic: a certain lady we’ll call Alice. He and Alice were once close, but no longer, which made her a target. Now, I love gossip as much as the next person, but I prefer it light, witty, and name-free. I’m known for knowing the gossip—but those who know me also know I rarely name names. I’m educated enough to entertain without tearing someone down.

But this monologue about Alice’s every fault dragged on and on. It felt like the only thing missing was Alice’s corpse—she was being verbally hacked to pieces. One hour later, Mark was still talking about Alice, with brief interruptions for “Let’s get another round in,” and one guest returning their starter three times. Some guests had begun looking at their phones. One even mouthed “Come sit with me!”

I suggested that, since we’d established Alice was a c—, perhaps we could move on.
That was met with, “Mark is talking—sssh!”

I would have left, but I was staying with one of the guests. Just when I thought the evening couldn’t get worse, a very late guest arrived—the cuckoo, who had seemingly replaced Alice in Mark’s affections. She briefly talked about another of my least favourite subjects—dieting—before the topic swerved straight back to Alice, in which the cuckoo revelled.

The toxic energy was palpable. Our host, smart as he was, was no Oscar Wilde, and only seemed aware of his own voice. Thank God I smoke—those breaks saved me. I even got a text from another guest: “Help!” They were bored stiff.

The cherry on top? Mark wasn’t even hosting. We were all going Dutch. After over two hours of his monologue, one of the guests even drove home drunk.

Here’s my final tip: If you’re hosting drinkers, be responsible. Make sure they have somewhere to stay, book a cab, or use a company that will drive their car home for them. As you pour that last tequila shot, you do not want to hear that someone was in an accident on the way home.

Happy dining,
Steven

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The Fab Four for sleep.

Fab 4 for Sleep

Having trouble sleeping—or just want the best natural help to drift off without taking a pill? Here are my fab four to stop you from counting sheep as you float away to la-la land.

1) Sour Cherry Juice

Tart cherries, among many other benefits, contain melatonin. Increasing your melatonin levels can help you fall asleep quicker and stay asleep longer, offering a natural way to drift through the night. Cherry juice can also help fight inflammation, reduce muscle soreness, and boost your immune system.

Try drinking a glass of juice an hour before bedtime. This gives it time to enter your system—and gives you time to use the bathroom, so your bladder won’t wake you up in the night! If you don’t like the taste of cherry juice, try it in capsule form. Another great tip is to have a warm lavender bath before bed.

🔗 Buy Cherry Juice Concentrate on Amazon

2) Fresh Face Pillows

Your bedding plays a big part in how well you sleep. My secret weapon is the Fresh Face Pillow—a memory foam pillow wrapped in a silk pillow slip. I’ve always been a devotee of silk and memory foam pillows, but this is different: this pillow literally gives you a cuddle. It’s sheer heaven as you lie back and prepare to dream. It’s also an incredible anti-ageing tool—the silk allows your face to breathe and glide, while the pillow’s unique shape encourages back sleeping, helping prevent those dreaded sleep lines.

If you’re like me and used to sleeping on your side, the Fresh Face Pillow may take some getting used to. In fact, it felt a little claustrophobic the first time I tried it! But the idea of waking up without looking like a giant gorilla had assaulted me in the night made me persevere.

During the first few weeks, I’d use it for short lie-downs with a face mask—it felt like I was at the beautician’s! By the second week, I started using it for full nights. At first, I still woke on my side, but soon it became a must at bedtime. I cannot recommend it enough. Just remember to hand-wash your silk pillowcase or use a delicate setting.

🔗 Visit freshfacepillow.com

3) This Works Best-Selling Deep Sleep Pillow Spray

This Works Deep Sleep Pillow Spray not only claims to help you fall asleep faster—it also makes your pillows and bedroom smell gorgeous. With a calming blend of lavender, vetivert, and wild camomile, it eases anxiety and helps improve sleep quality. When we sleep, our skin cells repair damage and remove toxins, making deep sleep one of the best beauty secrets.

A few sprays on your pillow before bed is all it takes. And if you have time, a warm lavender bath beforehand works wonders too.

🔗 Buy on thisworks.com

4) The Mirari Life Grace Silk Velvet Eye Mask

One of the best aids for sleep and beauty is an eye mask. Blocking out light can be a game-changer—especially on long-haul flights. But not just any mask will do. The delicate skin around your eyes deserves something gentle. I always recommend a silk eye mask, and the Mirari Life Grace Silk Velvet Eye Mask is pure perfection.

Made from a luxurious silk-velvet blend, this mask is thick enough to give a complete blackout effect—ideal for even the most light-sensitive sleepers. It also helps reduce sleep creases and preserve your skincare. Yes, it’s a bit pricier than standard eye masks, but it’s a wonderful investment in your beauty regime. Plus, it’s perfect for travel.

🔗 Shop the Grace Silk Velvet Eye Mask

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GOING UNDERGROUND

Steven’s Viewz

Going Underground

It was hard not to stifle a chuckle when I spotted the old familiar sign on the London Underground: “DO NOT STARE.”Really? How is it even possible to avoid making eye contact—no matter how hard you try—when there’s a man across from you mining his nose with such vigour that you worry his fingers might pop out through his eyeball? Or that couple in the corner, so utterly absorbed in each other that you’re not quite sure where to look—especially when she takes a break from kissing to slide her tongue into his ear. lets not start on ” If you see something that does not look right please report it ”

But that’s London for you. A glorious, bustling, cosmopolitan city teeming with people from every walk of life, each more stylish or eccentric than the last. The Tube isn’t just a means of transportation—it’s a rolling reality show. Every trip, every change of line, brings a new cast of characters and a fresh episode of human theatre.

Personally, I’ve always loved the art of people-watching. Airports were once my favourite stage. I’d arrive early just for the chance to observe humanity in transit. Back when loudspeakers used to blare out dramatic announcements—“Mrs Jones, please come to Desk Seven. You have an urgent message.” I never followed to see who Mrs Jones was, but oh, how my imagination ran wild. Maybe she was running away with a lover who’d had a sudden change of heart. Maybe she was being lured back to a secret double life. Most likely, it was something terribly dull—but still, it was enough to get the mental movie reels spinning.

Imagination has always been my saving grace. It’s carried me through life’s best and worst moments. The joy of observing life and its never-ending cast of characters continues to fuel me. As Shakespeare said:
“All the world’s a stage, and all the men and women merely players;
They have their exits and their entrances,
And one man in his time plays many parts.”

But let’s return to the Underground, which has been whisking Londoners beneath the city’s streets since 1863. That “DO NOT STARE” sign, upon closer inspection, had smaller print I hadn’t noticed before:
“INTRUSIVE STARING OF A SEXUAL NATURE IS SEXUAL HARASSMENT AND IS NOT TOLERATED.”
Fair point—and an important one.

Over a decade ago, I interviewed twelve Page 3 models about their experiences with dating and sex. Shockingly—but sadly not surprisingly—every single one of them had experienced some form of sexual harassment on the Tube. From groping in crowded carriages to lingering, uncomfortable touches during rush hour, it was a grim reminder of the darker side of commuting. Everyone deserves to travel safely, without fear of violation or discomfort.

Yes, let’s stamp out intrusive behaviour. But while we’re putting up signs, how about a few more reminders—common courtesies that could make life better for all of us packed into those rolling metal sausages?

Here’s my updated list of suggested announcements for the London Underground, to be posted right alongside “DO NOT STARE”:

  • Uncross your legs. No one wants your muddy footprint on their trousers when the train jerks to a stop.
  • Remove your backpack. Place it between your feet—don’t swing it around like a medieval weapon during rush hour.
  • Move your bags. That seat is not reserved for your handbag. Let others sit down.
  • Offer your seat. A little kindness never goes out of fashion. If you see someone elderly, pregnant, or visibly struggling, give up your seat. Don’t pretend to be engrossed in your phone or suddenly blind. But again… DO NOT STARE.
  • Leave the snacks at home. This isn’t the Orient Express. No one wants to arrive smelling like a bucket of fried chicken or a spicy chow mein from Mr Wok.
  • Escalator etiquette matters. DO NOT stop dead at the top to check your phone or sort your shopping. Move clear—or risk being shoved, bumped, or bruised.
  • If someone touches you inappropriately, report it immediately. We all have a right to feel safe.

London’s Underground is legendary around the world for good reason. It’s fast, far-reaching, and, if you ask me, oddly charming. Yes, the fares could be more reasonable—please, Sadiq Khan, no more price hikes—but it remains one of the most efficient and fascinating ways to travel.

So let’s respect it. Let’s love it. And let’s all do our bit to keep the journey pleasant for everyone.

And remember—DO NOT STARE.
Even if that Colin Farrell lookalike in rugby shorts gets on at Clapham.

https://tfl.gov.uk/modes/tube

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Anna Kennedy’s Pride Column Pride Month & Autism column

Dr Anna Kennedy OBE Pride picture BY Annemarie Bickerton https://www.annemariebickerton.co.uk

Dr Anna Kennedy OBE Pride picture BY Annemarie Bickerton https://www.annemariebickerton.co.uk
https://annakennedyonline.com Dr Anna Kennedy with charity patron Steven Smith. Photo Annemarie Bickerton

Hi it is Anna here founder of the autism charity Anna Kennedy Online. Since starting the charity in 2009, my passion has always been to raise awareness, acceptance, and understanding of autistic individuals and their families. Over the years, through our events like Autism’s Got Talent and The Autism Hero Awards, I’ve had the privilege of meeting so many incredible people who continue to inspire me every day.

This Pride Month, I want to take a moment to celebrate our autistic LGBTQ+ community members—many of whom still don’t feel fully seen or supported. Inclusion isn’t just a buzzword; it means accepting and embracing every part of who someone is. I’ve spoken to young people and families who are navigating this intersection, and I know how important it is to feel heard, respected, and safe to be your true self.

This column is a reminder that you are not alone. You matter. You belong. And we see you and your welcome at AKO Love Anna xxxx

Why do you think it’s important to recognise and celebrate Pride Month within the autism community?
Recognising and celebrating Pride Month within the autism community is important because it fosters a sense of belonging, validates the experiences of LGBTQ+ autistic individuals, and promotes greater understanding and acceptance. This recognition challenges the misconception that autism is solely a deficit and instead highlights the unique strengths and contributions of autistic people. We’ve seen this time and time again through our events such as Autism’s Got Talentand The Autism Hero Awards.

What are some of the unique challenges that autistic individuals who are also LGBTQ+ face?
Autistic individuals who are also LGBTQ+ often face the challenge of navigating two distinct communities. This can lead to increased isolation and mental health struggles. Some people I’ve spoken to find it difficult to feel fully understood and accepted, as they may not feel they completely fit within either the autistic or LGBTQ+ communities.

https://annakennedyonline.com

How does your organisation support autistic people who identify as part of the LGBTQ+ community throughout the year—not just during Pride Month?
Since launching our charity in 2009, we’ve always been supportive of the LGBTQ+ community. We’ve offered advice and support to individuals and families who’ve reached out, and we’ve proudly included many LGBTQ+ performers in Autism’s Got Talent, as well as nominees for the Autism Hero Awards. Our team includes a wonderfully diverse group of ambassadors, charity patrons, and volunteers who reflect our inclusive values.

Autisms Got Talent

Have you noticed an increase in autistic people feeling confident to express diverse gender or sexual identities in recent years?
In my opinion, yes—there is growing awareness, acceptance, and confidence among autistic individuals when it comes to expressing diverse gender and sexual identities. Research supports this trend, and organisations like Reframing Autism are playing an important role in empowering autistic people to explore and embrace who they are.

How can parents, carers, or educators better support young autistic people who are exploring their gender or sexual identity?
The most effective way to support young autistic individuals exploring their gender or sexual identity is through active listening, affirmation, and creating safe, respectful environments. This includes using preferred names and pronouns, sharing reliable resources, and helping them access both peer and professional support networks.

How can Pride events become more sensory-friendly or accessible to autistic attendees? Have you worked with any organisers to help with this?
To make Pride events more sensory-friendly, organisers should consider providing quiet zones, visual guides, clear schedules, and accessible information. It’s also vital to ensure authentic and diverse representation within the planning teams. While we haven’t yet partnered with organisers on this specifically, it’s something we’d be very open to in the future.

Do you see any stereotypes or misconceptions that still need to be challenged when it comes to autism and LGBTQ+ identities?
Yes, there are several. One persistent misconception is that being both autistic and LGBTQ+ is rare, when in fact, research shows a significantly higher prevalence of LGBTQ+ identities among autistic individuals. Another issue is the lack of visible role models and media representation. Although awareness is growing, we still need more positive stories and accurate portrayals of autistic LGBTQ+ people in the media and beyond.

What message would you like to share during Pride Month on behalf of the autistic community—especially those who often feel invisible in both autism and LGBTQ+ spaces?
My message is: “You are seen. You are valid. You are loved. Don’t be afraid to embrace your authentic self. Find your space, take your time, and know that there is a community ready to welcome and support you.”

Welcome
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Welcome to Heidi Gammon’s Advice Column PRIDE addition

https://www.counselling-foryou.co.uk/about-us

Happy Pride, everyone! just reflecting on Pride I thought Id share some background about me .

Becoming a counsellor wasn’t my first career choice. From a young age, my true passion was doing people’s hair. But strangely enough, hairdressing and counselling are closely linked. You know what they say: if you can’t afford a therapist, see your hairdresser!

In my case, it actually worked the other way around. My hairdressing career took off—I specialised in colour and built a hugely successful business. My CV includes working with celebrities and the rich and famous, and my colouring talent brought me into collaboration with some of the biggest names in the hair world.

But I always had a burning desire to really listen to my clients. No matter who they were—a rock star, a socialite, or a fashion icon—it became clear early on that we all face similar challenges: heartbreak, divorce, bereavement, anxiety, depression… the list goes on. People might argue that wealthy clients don’t have the same worries, but I’ve seen both ends of the spectrum. Money doesn’t always bring happiness.

That 16-year-old girl living in a Chelsea townhouse who wants to come out to her family isn’t so different from the one growing up in a council flat. Their circumstances may differ, but they’re both human and both deserving of support.

My fascination with people and their stories led me to retrain as a therapist. But it wasn’t just my clients who inspired me—it was also my own life.

I’m a gay woman and I came out in the 1990s. It was a brave move at the time—it certainly wasn’t trendy or widely accepted. We had very few role models: K.D. Lang, Melissa Etheridge, and Ellen DeGeneres were among the few out and proud. And let’s face it, lesbian characters in TV and film were usually portrayed as mad, bad, or dead. For many of us, The Killing of Sister George was the only reference point. Though it’s a classic with sensational performances, it doesn’t exactly paint a rosy picture of lesbian life.

(That’s why I’m so looking forward to the upcoming documentary on The Gate Club—the legendary lesbian venue on the King’s Road where parts of Sister George were filmed.)

When I came out, it raised a few eyebrows—even at the very trendy Vidal Sassoon salon in central London, where I was working at the time. Once word got out, some of my regular clients switched to other colourists.

While I had amazing support from some colleagues, moving on to other salons often meant facing homophobia—surprisingly, sometimes even from gay men. It’s not something we talk about often, but it’s real. Although my inner circle included fabulous gay men, there were definitely some who didn’t welcome us lesbians with open arms.

And believe it or not, I was refused entry to some gay clubs for looking “too straight”! Apparently, I was too femme.

Thankfully, times are changing. But we mustn’t take that progress for granted. Homophobia still exists in many forms, and we need positive role models, education, and continued activism to keep moving forward.

When I started studying to become a therapist, going back to college felt surreal. One classmate broke the ice by saying, “So proud to be your first lesbian!”—we’re still great friends to this day. But not everyone was welcoming. One peer was consistently rude and passive-aggressive. It was never openly discussed, but I strongly sensed a kind of veiled homophobia. Thankfully, the rest of the class were amazing, inclusive, and my tutor was truly sensational.

Back in the day, it would have been unthinkable to be openly gay in one successful career, let alone two.

Happy Pride, everyone! Let’s celebrate how far we’ve come. There’s still plenty of work to do, but I’m proud to be waving the rainbow flag—and I can’t wait to answer your emails.

Love,
Heidi

Dear Heidi,

My girlfriend dumped me before the pandemic because she enjoys clubbing and going to bars. That’s just not my scene. I’m looking for something more meaningful—I want to meet someone and settle down. But dating apps and websites scare me, and the bar scene isn’t for me.
Alex, Bethnal Green

Hi Alex,
Thank you for writing in. You’re not alone—plenty of people feel intimidated by the modern dating world. The key is to find spaces that align with your values. Consider LGBTQ+ book clubs, walking groups, art classes, or volunteering for a cause you care about. These are great ways to meet like-minded people in a low-pressure environment. And if you ever decide to try dating apps, choose ones with detailed profiles—look for people who are also looking for something serious. Take small steps—you’ve got this!
Love,
Heidi

Dear Heidi,

My girlfriend and I have been together for two years and plan to marry next year. Recently, she’s expressed a desire to try threesomes, saying it’ll “spice things up.” I don’t want to lose her, but honestly, it’s not for me. What should I do?
Madeline, Manchester

Hi Madeline,
Your feelings are completely valid. Relationships should be based on mutual respect and clear boundaries. If something doesn’t feel right to you, you shouldn’t feel pressured to agree. Talk to your partner openly and honestly—express your feelings without judgement. A strong relationship can withstand differences, as long as there’s communication and compromise. The right partner will respect your comfort zone.
Take care,
Heidi

Dear Heidi,

I’m 19 and come from what you’d call a “rough” family. My two brothers and I are all amateur boxers. My dad is a real “man’s man” and uses words like “queer” as an insult. I’ve been dating girls to hide who I really am, but one of them suspected something when I didn’t want to go all the way—she called me a “poof.” I love my family, but what can I do, Heidi? Should I risk coming out?
Mike, Blackpool

Dear Mike,
Thank you for your honesty. Coming out is deeply personal, and only you can decide when the time is right. It’s okay to take your time. You don’t have to come out until you feel safe and ready. Remember, there’s no shame in protecting yourself emotionally and physically. If you ever feel unsafe at home, reach out to LGBTQ+ support groups—there is a community out there that will support and celebrate you for who you are. You’re not alone.
With warmth and strength,
Heidi.

END

https://www.counselling-foryou.co.uk/about-us Do you have a question for Heidi e-mail us at spman@btinternet.com. mention Heidi

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QUACK ,QUACK IT IS THE PINK DUCK RACE .

🦆💕 Quack Quack! The Pink Duck Race Is Coming to Cambridge — And You’re Invited!

Something wonderfully wacky and heartwarming is coming to the River Cam this September — and it’s all for an amazing cause.

On Sunday 21st September 2025, Cambridge will host the UK’s very first Pink Duck Race, organised by the fantastic team at the Pink Ribbon Foundation, in support of those affected by breast cancer. 💖

Yes, you read that right — 20,000 bright pink rubber ducks will be released onto the river to race for glory, awareness, and fundraising. It’s going to be joyful, pink, and just a little bit bonkers… and we can’t wait!

🎀 Why a Pink Duck Race?

The Pink Duck Race is more than just a fun day out — it’s a symbol of hope and solidarity. Every duck adopted represents someone’s story, someone’s fight, or someone’s support. Whether you’ve experienced breast cancer yourself or want to stand by someone who has, this event is your chance to take action in the most cheerful way possible.

For just £5, you can adopt your own Pink Duck, give it a name, and watch it join thousands of others as they race down the river — all raising funds for breast cancer support and awareness.

💖 How It Works

  • 🦆 Adopt a duck for £5
  • 🎁 Gift a duck to a loved one as a meaningful gesture
  • 🏁 Watch 20,000 ducks race — live in Cambridge or via social media
  • 🏆 Win prizes if your duck finishes first (including the sparkly Gold Duck!)
  • 💼 Businesses can sponsor or adopt duck flocks with corporate packages
  • 💰 All funds raised go to the Pink Ribbon Foundation, supporting those affected by breast cancer

It’s a win-win: raise awareness, have a laugh, and maybe even take home a prize!

🥰 Can’t Make It to Cambridge? No Problem!

If you can’t attend in person, don’t worry — the race will be streamed online and covered on social media. You’ll still be able to cheer on your duck from anywhere in the UK (or the world!).

📲 Just follow @pinkribbonfoundation and @pinkduckrace on Instagram, Facebook, and X (formerly Twitter) to keep up with the action. There’ll be plenty of quacking content before, during, and after race day.

🛍️ Get Involved – Your Duck, Your Impact

Whether you’re an individual supporter, a family looking for a unique day out, or a business keen to make a difference, there’s a duck for everyone.

🫶 Want to show support for someone you love?
💼 Want your business to get involved in a meaningful and memorable campaign?
🎉 Or just fancy watching 20,000 pink ducks bobbing down the river?

You’re in the right place.

👉 Head to www.pinkduckrace.com/uk-2025 to adopt your duck today!

💬 Final Quacks…

This brilliant event is proudly supported by local and national partners including:
@qav_global, @intelligent_membranes, @brewboarduk, @cambridgerowing, @johnlewis_cambridge, @thinkpinkeurope, @skinster_h, and @thecraneevent.

Together, we’re creating a sea of pink, floating hope, and real change — one duck at a time.

💕 Let’s make history in Cambridge.

Adopt a duck. Share the love. Change lives.
Quack Quack! 🦆🎀

#PinkDuckRaceUK #PinkRibbonFoundation #BreastCancerAwareness #AdoptAPinkDuck #CambridgeEvents #FamilyFun #TeamPRF #25in2025

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HAPPY PRIDE

Picture Graham Martin https://www.grahammartinphotography.co.uk

Steven’s Viewz for June

“Pride” means self-esteem, self-respect, and the joy that comes from being who you are. It’s a celebration of identity and community—and it’s also a protest, because the fight for equality is far from over.

How far we’ve come. In the 1970s, the only LGBTQ+ publication I knew of was Gay News—a paper I used to smuggle into my family home as a teenager. Mainstream magazines rarely showed gay people in a positive light, and doing so could sink a publication. In the entertainment industry, being openly gay could mean career suicide. Even being suspected of homosexuality could get you thrown out of the armed forces.

GAY NEWS IN THE 70S

I came out at 15, creating scandal at school and chaos at home. When my mum discovered my hidden copy of Gay News, she screamed, “There’s no such thing as ‘Gay News’, only bad news.” While she’s now a proud LGBTQ+ ally, back then it was a different story. Only my 13-year-old sister offered comfort—squeezing my hand and saying, “I always knew. I love you.”

My coming out story in “it shouldn’t happen to a hairdresser ” https://www.amazon.co.uk/Shouldnt-Happen-Hairdresser-Steven-Smith/dp/B09K26J4BN/ref=tmm_pap_swatch_0?_encoding=UTF8&dib_tag=se&dib=eyJ2IjoiMSJ9.mCYudsmV4vG2XzjxyILAAscQq8prYKvjRYbsFmH-wghbYMPnf5VrK1Zb-lfB7i_j.h4CFp6VG-vzMnfjrCOF2zP63fpHQJ5HglXF3BIwXZJ0&qid=1749533962&sr=8-4

My parents, desperate to “understand,” took me to the Samaritans, where I was introduced to a man who had been in the merchant navy who “knew about gays.” I remember his pale-blue jumper and the awkwardness in his voice. He warned me that not all gay men looked like David Bowie or Marc Bolan—who, I pointed out, were bisexual. He added, “If you go to Portsmouth, there are big, hairy men on bikes looking for young lads.”


Once back in the car, I asked, “Where’s Portsmouth—and how do I get there?”

Coming out still shocks some families. I’ve seen parents devastated by something they must have known deep down. In It’s A Sin, Keeley Hawes’ character, Valerie Tozer, denies her son’s truth even as he dies of AIDS. Another mother asks her pointedly: “What were you looking at when he was six? Ten? Fifteen?”

Today, LGBTQ+ teens are still being thrown out of their homes. Others are allowed to stay—but endure silence, shame, or abuse. All for the “crime” of loving someone, or being themselves.

Meanwhile, the same parents hand their kids toy guns and cheer them on during war games—yet recoil at a same-sex kiss. The hypocrisy is astonishing.

I cried watching Heartstopper on Netflix. When Nick comes out to his mum, played with grace by Olivia Colman, she simply thanks him and checks he’s okay. That’s the world we need. Fewer traumas. More love.

Yes, things are better. But the LGBTQ+ community is still under attack. Survival requires strategy—and education is key. We need LGBTQ+ role models in schools. We need to support young people who don’t fit gender norms. We need to tell our stories and make space for others to tell theirs.

https://www.netflix.com/gb/title/81059939?source=35&fromWatch=true

I recently had a woman say to me, “You don’t seem that gay. My hairdresser Eduardo is gay—he’s a scream! He does drag on Tuesdays.” I replied, “The Kray twins were gay.” She went quiet, then apologised. I wasn’t offended—but I had made her think.

Positive role models matter. Jake Daniels, the first openly gay footballer, recently made headlines. So have Gareth Thomas and Tom Daley. But the fact that coming out still makes headlines shows how far we’ve yet to go.

Jake Daniels super star ,

It was heartening to see David Beckham support Jake Daniels—but disappointing to see him promote the World Cup in Qatar, where homosexuality is punishable by death. Allies must not sit on the fence when human rights are at stake.

Let’s not forget: the gay community isn’t immune to internal bias. Flamboyant men are often sidelined. Some fear being labelled “camp” or “too much.” But icons like Quentin Crisp, Boy George, David Bowie, and Marc Bolan showed us that difference is not a weakness—it’s a strength.

Boy George daring to be different with Pride.

If an alien asked to meet a “typical gay person,” we couldn’t comply. There’s no such thing. Just like there’s no one image of a straight man—despite the stereotype of a pint-wielding football fan in a Union Jack tee.

https://www.imdb.com/title/tt36961315/mediaviewer/rm721848066/

People ask me, “Why do you need Pride? There’s no Straight Pride.” My answer: “Be grateful you don’t need one.”

There are also calls to give Pride Month over to Veterans’ Day. I believe veterans deserve honour every day—but not at the expense of Pride or any other group or organisation One doesn’t cancel the other.

We’re living in frightening times. In countries like Argentina and the U.S., governments are trading human rights for promises of prosperity. In the UK, I fear the rise of Reform UK. We must not just defend our rights—we must be louder, prouder, and more visible than ever.

Peter Tatchell we all have to admire ,

At the premiere of Legendary Children: All of Them Queer, activist Peter Tatchell said that change comes from entering non-LGBTQ+ spaces and being a shining example. I believe that. I hope one day I can hold my boyfriend’s hand in public without fear. I hope one day, every child who comes out is embraced by their parents, not shunned.

We’ve made progress. But we’re not there yet.

And if we don’t act now, we risk going back to the bad old days.

legendary children all of them queer https://www.imdb.com/title/tt36961315/mediaviewer/rm721848066/