"As tits"

"As tits"

Today, I am exactly 2.79 per cent more gay than I was last Friday. There is one very good explanation, however, for the temporary increase in my camp rating, and it is this:

Holiday on Ice

Yes, dear reader, my birthday outing this year involved parting with genuine cash money and sitting in converted barn just outside Exeter with 2,000 pensioners, Brownies and *cough* special bus passengers to watch the almost-but-not-quite cream of world ice staking prancing about for two hours to "Let Me Entertain You"; while the car park was filled to overflowing with all the Protons, Kias and Rover 75s in the south west of England.

The rink, comprising the emptied incontinence bags of much of the audience frozen to a yellow sheen, glistened in front of us as Mrs Duck noticed Mrs Warboys from over the road sitting a few rows in front of us. I, of course, had completely failed to recognise her, on account of the fact that she was wearing clothes.

And so the show started, and dozens of butch young things in lycra from the Czech Republic did their skatey best to turn me into a bumsexualist, but the second the pneumatic young lady who played a lion took to the ice, I knew that they would fail. I care not that it was mostly padding, and that she was wearing a pair of skates that she could probably use to slice my head from my body without my even noticing, I now have a burning desire to resurrect my ice hockey career - abandoned at the age of six - so I can impress girls. Girls dressed in cat costumes. Cat costumes with padded lady bumps.

Yes, it was perhaps the campest thing I have ever seen in my life (and that includes a brief meeting with an orange-skinned Dale Winton), but, by God it weren't half good. And that is what worries me. Wafted out of the building on a wave of granny wee ("Ee, that's the best thing I've seen since Daniel O'Donnell"), we took ourselves home, where we took turns at throwing cushions at Philip Schofield on Dancing on Ice.

I am now hoping to offset this overdose of camp by doing something butch and manly this week. Your suggestions - in an envelope marked "I'll scratch your eyes out" - would be most appreciated.