"You are," I expounded, "the ponciest tosser to have ever minced his way into a pair of trousers. You are gayer than Stanley Hopkins when he sings second tenor in the policeman's chorus wearing his dress uniform. You are as queer as a public schoolboy with a penchant for Greeks. But you love me, as I said, so I shall allow it to pass."
Survived grammar workshop. Barely. Must study. Am therefore reading massive amounts of slash fanfiction to motivate me. Have also reached the conclusion that I am simply too good for studying english in Sweden. Must go to British boarding school type university. A very gay one preferrably.
Go read "The twelfth night" by Katieforsythe. It makes me happy on the inside.
"Two years ago I found myself in bed with a man, and absolutely incapable of continuing the encounter without calling him John."
"Was his name in fact John?"
"That was the whole trouble. His name was Eric."