It’s the difference between shaking hands and punching. There’s freedom of speech, and there’s freedom of hate speech, and there has to be some demarcation between the two. Lewisham council replied, in effect, that candidates can state whatever opinions they like. The 2% saying it’s freedom of speech: surely, not when it’s hate speech? Through a door directly, inevitably, to the children of queer families? Maureen thinks she’s protecting children, but she’s harming some. A small storm ensued, so spicy that my partner deleted her tweet. My partner and I asked the internet, via social media. It raises the practical question: are we allowed to post those opinions through a letterbox? I would put it to you, Maureen, that the only children who aren’t safe in this scenario are the queer ones born into families with your hate-laden views.
#DAD AND SON GAY PORN CARTOONS FULL#
What if he reads that? What if someone relays that to him in the playground? That same glorious playground full of pint-sized thobes, yarmulkes and Yankees baseball caps. It’s the implication that my son isn’t safe with me, because of my lack of straightness. It took me a while to realise how upset I was. I think there’s quite a sharp needle in your haystack there, babe. Then she’s back into explaining that if we only upcycled more, we could all save a few quid. Marriage: I pledge to cut through political correctness and simply state the truth that natural marriage between a man and a woman is the fundamental building block for a successful society, and the safest environment for raising children. But casually nestled between these two proposals is this: Each to their own, Maureen, each to their own. Haven’t we all, Maureen, haven’t we all? And she would love a tax cut or two.
Five of the points are quite bog standard.
One of the candidates, Maureen, has a six-point plan. Which is also the doorstep of my son, who can read. This week a leaflet for the local mayoral election landed on my doorstep. I could have been forgiven for thinking we had arrived at the promised land. So far I’ve largely been able to ride on the coattails of the activism and sacrifice of historical warriors for LGBT+ equality. Disown me if you like, Auntie Karen: I couldn’t give a monkey’s. Children’s self-worth hinges on how they are perceived by others, whereas at my age you care far less what anyone makes of you. Not usually a coup but I really believe not being straight must be harder when you’re a child (ie under 30). It’s a right old mashup and it’s beautiful.Īlso, I’m old. There was everything from saris, kimonos and Ankara churchwear to Romanian football kit and, in great news for everyone, even a tiny Dutch milkmaid. My son’s “express your culture” day at school looked like an unrealistically utopian Argos advert. It helps that I’m a proud resident of Lewisham, south-east London, one of the biggest, brightest and most brilliant diversity jumble sales on the planet.