Queers: Eight Monologues by Mark Gatiss

Author:Mark Gatiss [Gatiss, Mark]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Drama, GLBT, Monologues, Non-Fiction, Plays, Historical, Theatre
ISBN: 9781848426962
Amazon: 1848426968
Publisher: Nick Hern Books
Published: 2017-10-30T00:00:00+00:00

Two things you must always do before sex at my age. Cover all the mirrors and put on the wireless or whatever you want, just not silence. But definitely cover the mirrors. I once caught a glimpse of myself ‘going at it’. It looked like one of those lions in East Africa eating a gazelle. Rubbing his nose in the viscera. I’ve seen it on Zoo Quest. If you care to ogle me for a moment you will see that I am a lesson in the art of growing old with dignity and elegance. I have, like the stately homes of England, been somewhat in decline since the end of the war. My paintwork is peeling, my plumbing is Victorian and my servant’s entrance is badly in need of attention. I know what I am and what I like. I make the most of what I’ve got. I play the hand I’m dealt as best I can. I come here every day and more often than not I do well. I’m generous to renters, pay them what I say I will.

Maybe even the rentlemen will dry up now. Have their heads turned by the possibility of living together like Mum and Dad in their little houses. Is that really what they want? Sex is more fun if you do a little bit of groundwork. Well, Christ, I’ve raised it to an art form! It’s a kind of hunting. You send out signals, a bit of polari here and there, see what’s on the radar. It’s a thieves’ cant, for heaven’s sake. It’s supposed to protect you from lilley law. It’s not supposed to be on the wireless every day for the amusement of bored palones. I’d say ‘Bona to varder your dolly old eek, dear! Come on, doll, let’s go for a bevvy somewhere ajax so I can ogle the dish on that omi.’ Understand? No? Good.

Trust me, homosexuals will be no better off than they are now, or my name’s not Cassandra. And my name’s not Cassandra. We will be forced to swallow the great lie that romance happens only once and that love is for ever. That’s just not true. Why do you think normal people are so unhappy? Because they have unrealistic expectations. I am what everybody learns to fear. The lowest of the low. A dangerous, predatory homosexual, the kind that lurks silently, waiting to corrupt the healthy manhood of this septic isle. That’s exactly what I am and they can all fuck off. I’ll be in my tailor’s shop. They’re walking straight into a trap. But not me, dear. No point in that. Nanty point. They won’t catch me.

It’s a short walk from Duke Street to Trafalgar Square. I walk there every day. I stand in the same spot. I look over to the lion. I make my devotions. I remember the apples. A shorter walk still from the square to this place. A watering hole where the gazelles gather and the hunting is good.

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