Faggot.
It’s not a great word is it? Even ‘nigger’ has been appropriated by the recipient and turned against the aggressor, but this one still languishes in the hands of Dire Straits circa whenever with a mention in Money For Nothing. That no-one has yet to take offensive to.
‘Queer’ is fine because there are real academic textbooks on the subject and that. They happily use the word. It has been sanitised by universities and a guest appearance by Keith Chegwin on an underwhelming sitcom.
So this is an odd one.
I am outside my place of work. It is quarter to nine in the morning.
Present are Very Dry Colleague and Lovely But Stupid Colleague.
VDC: What do you make of that then?
He nods toward one of those huge Jeep things. Whilst my office building houses 1000 employees, we have no parking and are located on an exciting city-centre back-street where you will be killed of a Friday night. (This is true. It happened last week. No-one I knew so fuck them.)
I look at the Jeep, surprised that it is not the usual Aston Martin that is parked there. Whatever. A very large, very well-muscled man (he does own a Jeep after all) is loading some things into it.
Me: Mmmm.
LBSC: Look at the licence plate!
Ah. It is personalised. This used to be an indication of untold riches, but when you see people driving fucking fifteen-year-old Fiats with such plates it stops being a big deal and just makes you a wanker.
But this one is a thinker.
FAG40T.
We’ve a few minutes before we have to work. We discuss the various scenarios.
1.
Guy walks into License Plate Emporium.
Employee: What can I do you for?
Guy: Well. All my friends say I’m a really cool dude. Do you have one that says COOL DUD3 or something?
Employee: No. We’ve got one that spells ‘faggot’.
Guy: That’ll do. Wrap it up.
2.
Guy walks into License Plate Emporium.
Employee: What can I do you for?
Guy: I am such a faggot.
Employee: Erm?
Guy: Yeah. You know? I’ve got loads of money despite being not too sharp, and all my clever friends tell me that being a ‘faggot’ is just the absolute best. Sort me out.
Employee: Cash or card?
3.
Guy walks into Licence Plate Emporium.
Employee: What can I do you for?
Guy: I fucking love it up the arse. What’ve you got?
4.
Guy walks into Licence Plate Emporium.
Employee: What can I do you for?
Guy: They’re all fucking faggots.
Employee: Erm. Who?
Guy: Everyone on the road but me. I am so heterosexual in my driving technique it is unbelievable, and I want everyone else to know how homosexual their driving skills are in comparison. I am all Man. See my driving if you have any doubts. Really aggressive. Totally manly. That thing with Dominic in high-school was just a phase. Bit of an experiment. He was into it, I wasn’t. There’s nothing FUNNY about me. But there’ll all queers. Bunch of faggots. All looking at me like I’m some sort of Homo. I’ve a good mind to shove my cock up their arses just to teach them a lesson.
Anyway. Some sort of plate telling people they’re faggots. Compared with my brilliant manly driving. You know. ‘Cos I’m the driver usually. I mean. Not like that. I hate men. They’re all gay. They can suck me off.
Employee: Just buy it.
Anyway. We run out of ideas.
Lovely But Stupid Colleague: The funny thing is, he doesn’t even look very gay.
Me: What do you mean?
LBSC: Well. He doesn’t look like you.
Me: Fuck off. What do you mean?
LBSC: Well. He’s really big. And muscled and that. Really big. He doesn’t look gay. He’s BIG.
Very Dry Colleague: I’m not an expert on the subject, but I don’t think the Registrar of Homosexuality has an upper-body size limit.
Lovely But Stupid Colleague: So you don’t think he’s gay then? Really? What would this Registry say about his plate? Is that not wrong?
Me: Fuck me.
VDC: I have to get to work.
Me: Me too. Christ.
‘Queer’ is fine because there are real academic textbooks on the subject and that. They happily use the word. It has been sanitised by universities and a guest appearance by Keith Chegwin on an underwhelming sitcom.
So this is an odd one.
I am outside my place of work. It is quarter to nine in the morning.
Present are Very Dry Colleague and Lovely But Stupid Colleague.
VDC: What do you make of that then?
He nods toward one of those huge Jeep things. Whilst my office building houses 1000 employees, we have no parking and are located on an exciting city-centre back-street where you will be killed of a Friday night. (This is true. It happened last week. No-one I knew so fuck them.)
I look at the Jeep, surprised that it is not the usual Aston Martin that is parked there. Whatever. A very large, very well-muscled man (he does own a Jeep after all) is loading some things into it.
Me: Mmmm.
LBSC: Look at the licence plate!
Ah. It is personalised. This used to be an indication of untold riches, but when you see people driving fucking fifteen-year-old Fiats with such plates it stops being a big deal and just makes you a wanker.
But this one is a thinker.
FAG40T.
We’ve a few minutes before we have to work. We discuss the various scenarios.
1.
Guy walks into License Plate Emporium.
Employee: What can I do you for?
Guy: Well. All my friends say I’m a really cool dude. Do you have one that says COOL DUD3 or something?
Employee: No. We’ve got one that spells ‘faggot’.
Guy: That’ll do. Wrap it up.
2.
Guy walks into License Plate Emporium.
Employee: What can I do you for?
Guy: I am such a faggot.
Employee: Erm?
Guy: Yeah. You know? I’ve got loads of money despite being not too sharp, and all my clever friends tell me that being a ‘faggot’ is just the absolute best. Sort me out.
Employee: Cash or card?
3.
Guy walks into Licence Plate Emporium.
Employee: What can I do you for?
Guy: I fucking love it up the arse. What’ve you got?
4.
Guy walks into Licence Plate Emporium.
Employee: What can I do you for?
Guy: They’re all fucking faggots.
Employee: Erm. Who?
Guy: Everyone on the road but me. I am so heterosexual in my driving technique it is unbelievable, and I want everyone else to know how homosexual their driving skills are in comparison. I am all Man. See my driving if you have any doubts. Really aggressive. Totally manly. That thing with Dominic in high-school was just a phase. Bit of an experiment. He was into it, I wasn’t. There’s nothing FUNNY about me. But there’ll all queers. Bunch of faggots. All looking at me like I’m some sort of Homo. I’ve a good mind to shove my cock up their arses just to teach them a lesson.
Anyway. Some sort of plate telling people they’re faggots. Compared with my brilliant manly driving. You know. ‘Cos I’m the driver usually. I mean. Not like that. I hate men. They’re all gay. They can suck me off.
Employee: Just buy it.
Anyway. We run out of ideas.
Lovely But Stupid Colleague: The funny thing is, he doesn’t even look very gay.
Me: What do you mean?
LBSC: Well. He doesn’t look like you.
Me: Fuck off. What do you mean?
LBSC: Well. He’s really big. And muscled and that. Really big. He doesn’t look gay. He’s BIG.
Very Dry Colleague: I’m not an expert on the subject, but I don’t think the Registrar of Homosexuality has an upper-body size limit.
Lovely But Stupid Colleague: So you don’t think he’s gay then? Really? What would this Registry say about his plate? Is that not wrong?
Me: Fuck me.
VDC: I have to get to work.
Me: Me too. Christ.
posted by Tired Dad at
8:25 pm
27 Comments:
Some of my favourite faggot friends are very large.
Goog God woman I'd just finished typing.
I saw a car yesterday whose registration plate basically read 'gay'. I think it was T5 GAY or something. It was parked precisely in the middle of two parking bays at Asda, just in case the number plate didn't get enough attention.
I like faggots with onions and gravy.
I use "queer" 'cause it's quite generic. It's easier than saying "I'm-a-transsexual-and-would-really-appreciate -a-cock-but-I-also-appreciate-other-blokes'"
I already knew there's no actual point to having a dry sense of humour... because no fucker ever understands it.
I also have this image of a 300lb guy, entirely made of muscle, wearing nothing but studded leather chaps, a cock ring and a biker hat. Does he look like a raging heterosexual??
Outside my grandmothers house there is a car I see regularly with the letters; P.U.B.E and a number or two thereabouts.
What the blazes? There can be no satisfactory explanation for this. Even if the driver is the owner of the Veet/Immac brand, which I doubt.
that conversation never actually happened!
stunning.
maybe he enjoys faggots for supper?
I bet it was Mr Brains!
Ohhhhhhh ... does that mean I'm creepy?
'anonymous' - do like flava beans and chianti too? Just a thought...
Some queers have big muscles. Known fact. Especially in prison.
RE: Money For Nothing - bloody hell, I never noticed that. Didn't Sting write it? I thought he was some sort of hippy, love-thy-neighbour sort. Charming.
b: Wow. 'Gay' parking and literally gay plate. Good one.
Anon: I sense a weak running joke coming. Erm. Arriving.
Anon2: Hello. (Again?). You're troubling me with the other stuff, but I'll agree with the dry thing. Waste of time, especially when conversing with idiots.
Missy: I JUST DON'T KNOW. The worst ones are the ones that have obviously been paid for but make no sense. EG4 7XS. It cost money. IT MEANS NOTHING!
Peaches: I'm appalled to report that yes it did. I left out this bit:
LBSC: I mean, it's strange because those personalised plates are really expensive.
VDC: I have a feeling that one wasn't at a premium.
No-one would believe it. Welcome to my 'life'.
Me: Aha. Here we go with the running 'joke' in Tired Dad comments thing.
Ang: And here it (hopefully) ends.
Clarissa: No, it was just weird.
Dinners: As previously mentioned, I have no interest in the Prison Love.
M_G: No, he just lent his ludicrously affected vocals to it. In fairness, the mentioning of the word 'faggot' within the song was at the expense of people who do a manual trade for a living, which entirely forgives 'The Straits' as they were merely mocking the working class. Or themselves. Possibly gays as well. Whatever. They had glow-in-the-dark headbands back then and could get away with murder.
Shit. I know about this stuff.
Hoorah for troubling people!
Yes, again, unless you have a vast transsexual fan contingent... which everyone needs...
do you smoke one or two ciggies while having such conversations?
300lb guy, entirely made of muscle, wearing nothing but studded leather chaps, a cock ring and a biker hat.
Sounds like someone wanting to form a Village People Tribute band.
Anon: I thought so; welcome back. And you're quite right about the troubling people thing. I wasn't looking for a hugely trans-gender audience, but will take what I can get.
Tea: Amazingly this took one 'fag'. We talk quick where I work.
Sew: Christ. Which tribute nights have you attended?
u n jerry lewis, eh? bet ur popular as hell in france
hilarious, thanks
Pup: Me and Jerry Lewis WHAT?
Honey: And thank you.
Number 4, it's got to be number 4. What an idiot. The jeep driver not me...going now...
TD: Hmm. Now it's you that's being disconcerting...
oh, that was funny !.....perhaps he was some body building butcher type ?
DJ: Apparently there has to be a number that looks faintly like a letter in there somewhere.
m_g: Point taken. I DO NOT EVEN LIKE DIRE STRAITS. Although Making Movies was alri - fuck fuck fuck.
isabelle: Thanks and welcome, although I have no idea what you're talking about.
hello again....well I think faggots are also some kind of pork meatball...
o sory jerry lewis says sumtin abot a faggot on telly n amerika goes insane at the word
Isabelle: I think we've covered this.
Pup: Ah. Ok.
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