My list this year is pretty short. All I want for Christmas is Spice Girls tour tickets, a dazzling double-ended dildo, and the unconditional love and acceptance of my family. Is that really too much to ask, Mrs Claus? Christmas can be a tough old time to be queer. Don’t get me wrong, the build-up is a gloriously gay affair. I very much embrace the ethos of being camp as Christmas, not just in December but all year long. You’ll often ind me rocking a tinsel boa on the morning coffee run. Then during the pre-Yuletide weeks I crank up the Chrimbo factor so high even a drag queen named Mama Rudolph is like, “Do you think that’s maybe a bit much?” Me and my butcher half sip mugs of mulled wine, my furry pink gloved hand in her “I’m-tootough- for-mittens” frostbitten hand.
I’m blinged up to the nines, tens and elevens. Look out world – I have Christmas pudding nipple tassels and I’m not afraid to stick ‘em on me baubles. We don hers and hers reindeer PJs and watch Carol on repeat. (Side note, why are there no other lesbian Xmas ilms? I’m never going to tire of Cate Blanchett snogging ladies with a snowy backdrop, but isn’t it time for a few more options? Where’s our Queer Actually? Elf 2 starring Ellen Page? Miracle On Old Compton Street? It’s A Wonderful Lezzy Life?!)