The Mailcoach, Swindon   4 comments

“I like my television loud, my beers cold, and my gays flaming!”–Homer Simpson

There was no tele and the pop music in the background was moderate, if not my cup of tea.  I had a cider, so I can’t speak for the beer.  And, except for the large-ish women necking on the back porch you might not even know you were in a gay bar…Homer would be so disappointed.

To be fair, England is not the best place to play Queer/Not-A-Queer, the game wherein each passerby or new face on the television is evaluated for their swish factor.  Growing up in Atlanta in the 70’s the queens were either screaming or draped in assless chaps; at our gym in Midtown in the 80’s, NAQ’s were almost nonexistent. But, in England there seems to be less reason to be so obvious; you’ve almost got to add a transitional category: Queer/Not-A-Queer/Just-English.

Even the Mailcoach remains more ambiguous than it should be.  It has a camp name but they left it spelled like the Post, not like it is sporting a post.  The house has a rainbow flag on it but that doesn’t register with a lot of brits; they had planned on using the Grade 2 listed barn adjacent to the garden for barbecues before it collapsed suddenly.  Except for the one-legged macho man doll hanging out (as though cottaging) on the public facilities down the alley, nothing is really stereotypical about the joint at all.

So, if it is a pleasant day pop in for a beer and grab a seat on the porch.  Watch as shoppers pass by: they all surreptitiously glance into the garden in slightly different ways.  Teenage girls giggle, obviously dominant males quickly glance while their submissive girlfriends look concerned about the competition (or longingly at the lady-love tongue wrestling going on at table #2), and it’s hard to put your finger on just WHAT the look large Asian families do as they pass by.  Have fun.

Posted 2011/08/14 by Drunken Bunny in entertainments, gambling, pubs

Tagged with , , , ,

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