Girly boys, oral sex, and living la vita pensioner
Three things have made me smile this evening.
First, watching the first episode of Boys Will Be Girls on my Sky Box. It was dumb and a little exploitative, in other words typical reality show fare. If I wanted to be po-faced about it I could also complain that it was a little bit too sniggering schoolboy about the whole idea of boys wearing girls clothes, but actually I quite liked it.
Fifteen, maybe twenty years ago, in my first flowerings of teenage tranny sexuality, I used to spend ages flicking through the channels on my bedroom telly looking for some kind of televisual stimulus to, er, inspire me. These were the days before t'internet, mind you!
Boys Will Be Girls would have been manna from heaven for teenage me. Young boys "forced" to be in a girl band? You couldn't write this stuff! And then I realised that there's young trannies out there now for whom Boys Will Be Girls will be just what the doctor ordered. Probably. I've gone a bit weird haven't I?
Look, if Russell T. Davies can allude to oral sex on a prime time family show (Doctor Who on my Sky Box - my second smile of the evening), I can get a little bit nostalgic about teenage tranny fantasies on my blog, okay?
Okay, the third smile was from my Granddad ringing me up. He's my last living grandparent, who was widowed my Nan died late last year. He's now starting to enjoy life again a bit more, as was regaling me with tales of spending the day washing up for the canteen at the village flower festival (and getting two potions of meat on his plate at lunchtime for his troubles), and a great barbeque organised by four women in his bowling club who decided to invite four men along who (in his words) "knew how to have a laugh".
He said a lot of drink was drunk, and it all got a tiny bit saucy (by Granddad standards, nothing sordid). He had a whale of a time.
And that gave me the biggest smile of all. My granddad, living la vita pensioner. I want to be like that when I reach that age: surrounded by friends, getting double helpings at flower festivals, and telling dirty jokes to old ladies. Bliss!
First, watching the first episode of Boys Will Be Girls on my Sky Box. It was dumb and a little exploitative, in other words typical reality show fare. If I wanted to be po-faced about it I could also complain that it was a little bit too sniggering schoolboy about the whole idea of boys wearing girls clothes, but actually I quite liked it.
Fifteen, maybe twenty years ago, in my first flowerings of teenage tranny sexuality, I used to spend ages flicking through the channels on my bedroom telly looking for some kind of televisual stimulus to, er, inspire me. These were the days before t'internet, mind you!
Boys Will Be Girls would have been manna from heaven for teenage me. Young boys "forced" to be in a girl band? You couldn't write this stuff! And then I realised that there's young trannies out there now for whom Boys Will Be Girls will be just what the doctor ordered. Probably. I've gone a bit weird haven't I?
Look, if Russell T. Davies can allude to oral sex on a prime time family show (Doctor Who on my Sky Box - my second smile of the evening), I can get a little bit nostalgic about teenage tranny fantasies on my blog, okay?
Okay, the third smile was from my Granddad ringing me up. He's my last living grandparent, who was widowed my Nan died late last year. He's now starting to enjoy life again a bit more, as was regaling me with tales of spending the day washing up for the canteen at the village flower festival (and getting two potions of meat on his plate at lunchtime for his troubles), and a great barbeque organised by four women in his bowling club who decided to invite four men along who (in his words) "knew how to have a laugh".
He said a lot of drink was drunk, and it all got a tiny bit saucy (by Granddad standards, nothing sordid). He had a whale of a time.
And that gave me the biggest smile of all. My granddad, living la vita pensioner. I want to be like that when I reach that age: surrounded by friends, getting double helpings at flower festivals, and telling dirty jokes to old ladies. Bliss!
Labels: transvestism
Check out the next few episodes. They go to a specialist shop that isn't Transformations! (Guess who they go to!)
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