**DISCLAIMER: Scathing rant ahead. Do not proceed without a sense of humour.

Our world is in turmoil. ISIS are bombing every major city in Europe, half of America actually buys into the dangerous douchebag that is Donald Trump, and a used sanitary towel would be front page news if it came from a Kardashian. But there’s one crisis that is flying under the mainstream’s radars, and that many of us encounter on a daily basis, yet refuse to act upon. The thirst of our gay community is real. Y’all wanna talk about the Californian drought? These bitches need to get in the fucking sea. And preferably drown. The only time a tsunami is ever welcomed; on the Gran Canaria Pride Facebook group.  It’s more tragic than any suicide bombing. If only some of those desperate cunts would blow themselves up. Here’s a couple of gems:

Just casually letting the 5,000+ members know that I’m gonna be in there for Pride, and am easy AF. Secure myself a lay just in case there aren’t hundreds of thousands of horny gay men when I get there. Where is your decorum? Half of these queens would have their ankles behind their ears, tugging their arse cheeks apart if social media would let them. And the thing is – men actually hit on them in the comments. Brazen flirting on a public forum is an uncouth hobby for people that can’t grasp the concept of social etiquette. Get a room. You know, like a gas chamber.

Listen, if you’ve got a good body and you put the hours in at the gym, then fair play to you, you should be proud of anything that you worked hard for. Nobody is crucifying anybody for a shameless selfie once in a Blue Moon. But it’s the endless rotisserie of near-naked desperation. Don’t you have anything to say? Where’s your voice? Queens wanna be mermaids so much, they acting like the sea witch stole it. (Really wanna be a mermaid? GO LIVE IN THE SEA).

The worst ones, are the ones that try to hide their thirst behind some other kind of notion; ‘Feeling blessed and grateful for all this love and light and opportunities, blah, blah, blah’; just post your fucking selfie. And preferably one where we can’t see your pubic hair. Great work on the abs, but your bush is giving me 90s Scary Spice nostalgia. Hack it off, and get in the fucking sea. Let’s not even tug at the tragic thread of the ‘armpit selfie’; you know the one, laying in bed, giant vagina under their arm, awkwardly strained pout. Real casual, hun.

Or some kind of hint that they’re single, to encourage an exchange of thirst in their inbox. Or “Have a good weekend”, as if another image of the same torso, in the same room, in the same position is benefiting me in any way shape or form. And then after sharing thousands of pictures that would imply they don’t own a thread of clothing, they then complain that no men want a relationship. No, they just don’t want one with you, hoe. Stop being basic and get in the fucking sea.

It’s like they need the validation more than oxygen. And you know who doesn’t need oxygen? Mermaids.
Why don’t you try telling yourself that you’re beautiful before begging it from a stranger; it’s painful. Even when you die and get reincarnated, you will struggle to achieve success in your next life because your soul is still dying of shame from your performance in this one.

And it’s not like gay “celebrities” are really helping the situation; bobsledder Simon Dunn is screaming for ‘likes’ as he parades around in his pants all over Instagram… not to mention inflicting the world with his shockingly bad YouTube tributes.

And all we want for Christmas, is for you to get in the fucking sea. We’re sure Mariah is back-slapping an assistant somewhere, just because of this. It’s one thing to flaunt your body when it comes naturally, and you’re good at it – but this is like the geek at school desperately trying to be accepted by the cool kids. Does she even go here?

And talking of horrific music videos, his are on par with Bryan Hawn; who is by far the worst. He needs an ocean all to himself. He might as well walk around with a sign that says “penetrate me”. It would be a different story if it was done tastefully, as opposed to writhing around on an unmade single bed, destroying modern pop music. SEA.

Gus Kenworthy used to be quite bad for it too, but he obviously took a dip in the sea and cooled off, so we like him now.

Does nobody respect themselves anymore? And it’s not about just showing off your body, it’s about why. Because flaunting your body is easier than using your brain? Because it’s a fast-track to an ego boost? Or because you’re just shameless prostitutes that are getting paid in ‘likes’?

Thirsty bitches, do the world a favour and get in the sea. Especially if you don’t know how to swim.

JUST THIS.

**Note: The guy in the background who literally can’t stop ogling.

“Excuse me, do you know where the gay bars are?”

“Erm… They’re that way”

We’ve all got one friend (at least), who moved to the Big Smoke from a mundane farm in Middlesex or Barking, or Notting-Wherever-the-fuck. They loved going out, because who doesn’t, and ended up getting a little too wrapped up in the disco and dealers, and bright lights and baggies. It happens. It’s textbook. You have to be incredibly strong to stay standing upright in a sea of temptation, especially when you’re being smashed by waves of parties and peer pressure. It very easy to lose your footing, take a tumble and before you know it, you don’t know if you’re going to drown or resurface gasping for air. 

So naturally, at some point they pack up their shit, and move back home to their parents, in that awful town where everybody knows everybody’s business and there’s only one nightclub called something like URGE with £1.50 drinks before 11pm. People joke that they’d rather kill themselves than go back to the simple life, but remaining in London is effectively what they were doing. So you either accept that you’re not strong enough to be surrounded by clubbing and chemsex, and live a happier and healthier life somewhere less exciting, or you party until you die. Or – God forbid – seek some professional help. 

It sounds melodramatic, doesn’t it? But it’s how it works. I’m from London, so I didn’t have the luxury of escaping to my parents at the weekends when I felt like I needed a break. I never considered myself to have a ‘problem’, but people really underestimate the impact of their surroundings. Very frequently if people don’t have something around them, they don’t crave it; after all, you can’t miss a party that isn’t happening. Their ‘addiction’ as it were, is almost a case of severe FOMO. 

So who can blame people for moving? It works. And it has nothing to do with ‘running away’, it’s just a logical solution to a problem that will continue to simmer – if not escalate – unless you change your environment. I didn’t move abroad for that reason, but a change of scenery was more than welcome. Spending time somewhere that isn’t as polluted with drugs, can give you the space – mentally and physically – to realise that your bad habits were environmental all along. It’s not true for everybody, but you’d be surprised how many it is. 

Of course, coming back to London can be daunting as you don’t want to trip on the curb and land nose-down in a pile of mephedrone. But I’d been gone so long without it, that it was easy to adapt my relationships with people. If I knew that going drinking with a particular friend was going to end in eight baggies, a regrettable Grindr meet, and three days of not eating – then I’ll only be seeing that bitch for lunch. At least until I was sure I could say no, and it didn’t take as long (or was as hard) as one might think. And it’s nothing against those friends at all. I just had to take a step back from it  – for myself. Though thankfully most of my friends seemed to grow in sync. 

I’m not saying that you won’t ever see me at a rave or festival mollied up to my eyeballs; I mean, condoning full sobriety is simply boring, darling. But the fact is, when you move away from that vortex; you change as a person, you grow, you find yourself again. You’re able to take a step back, breathe, and gain some clarity. And I’m happy that I outgrew the London chem scene, it’s exactly what I wished for. I was so desperate to be in control at one point, I was even attending meetings at Antidote. Little did I know, a few months break does the trick just fine, though I was going out way less than usual at this point. Walking away from that lifestyle like:

When you’ve spent more time at chill outs than any place of work, you’re not in a place to judge anybody – hence why I don’t. Reformed drug-users that then look down on other people doing are the worst. “I”m a good boy now!” they exclaim, as if they’re entitled to a fucking OBE. Yeah, like you weren’t just begging a bump from me a few months ago. All cocky until that high horse buckles and throws them into a G-fuelled gangbang.
Not to mention enough people have seen me gurning my face off, frantically pounding the keyboard of my laptop with my meph-claw, trying to write this blog on a Sunday afternoon – so don’t mistake me for one of those Ivory Tower Arseholes – this isn’t “look how far I’ve come”, it’s more “look how simple the solution can be”. 

You can escape that bubble. Many people believe that they have an addiction to drugs, when really their issues are more to do with temptation. Remove the temptation, remove the problem. And it’s not something that makes you lesser than anyone else, because humans in general are weak when it comes to temptation. Why do you think it’s the Devil’s most successful weapon? So if you’re starting to feel that the party is over for you, don’t let certain situations – or even people – drag you back in. There’s plenty of people who still enjoy partying (or at least still believe they do), which is fine. But if you’re constantly on it, and constantly regretting it, it’s time to introduce some changes that will help you move on. In fact, that glimmer of distain from a lifestyle you once loved is the first sign that you can – and probably will – leave it behind. 

It’s obviously easier said than done, and I’m not suggesting you move continents, but it’s doesn’t hurt to recognize who and what your triggers are, and gradually start to step away from them. Don’t go out with people who are a bad influence. Don’t go to parties where you know there’s drugs. Delete Grindr if it tempts you to sex parties. If moving away is a possibility, consider it. You can always come back.

It’s not going anywhere… But, while drugs and hedonism control your life, neither are you. 

[Photo Credit: G O’Clock Film]

Anyone who’s used the Central Line will know how tedious public transport can be, not to mention boring. And while most of us choose to pass the time by listening to music, reading and even daydreaming – this commuter has other ideas! Perhaps there wasn’t a Evening Standard to hand, so he just grabbed something else. He’s certainly got some balls to be public pleasuring in this day and age when nobody travels without a smartphone…

As proud and open as we are as gay men, it constantly seems like we have a fascination with men that identify as ‘straight’. We’ve all heard phrases like, “I’m gay, because I fancy men… If I wanted a woman, I’d be straight”, which perpetuate the ‘Masc 4 Masc’ preference. And while plenty of us will jest about the stupidity of it all, it remains relatively true that “the more masculine, the better”. Is it really as simple as the fact that we find masculine qualities more attractive than feminine ones? Instinctively, you might think so. But even when a man isn’t overtly masculine, an abundance of gay men will be more attracted to him just because he carries a ‘straight’ label. (Personally, I prefer designer labels, but whatever floats your boat).

The term “Bro-jobs” that surfaced last year, (which describes two straight men having sexual encounters with each other), in particular, sparked heaps of gay interest. But why? Is it because these represent the kind of masculine man that we hope to be partnered with? Or is it something else?

Consider for a second if two identical looking men were placed next to one another, but you were told that one was gay and one was ‘straight’, I’d care to wager that a majority of gay men would be initially more attracted to the ‘straight’ one. But, again, why? Well, perhaps it has less to do with our ideals of masculinity and more to do with a fantasy that flirts with the idea of the forbidden? ‘Cause you know Eve wouldn’t have gone chomping down on that Granny Smith if it wasn’t off limits.

Remember when you were younger and in the closet, being gay and having sexual experiences with other boys was so exciting. There was something in the pit of your stomach that told you what you were doing was wrong, and perhaps even another part of you that got off on that. So perhaps we’re just hooked on this idea of pulling a straight bloke because it’s reminiscent of that taboo and adrenaline.

It ties in with that build-up of sexual tension that neither of you could deny, no matter how hard you tried. You’d resist it as long as you could, because being in the closet meant you wasn’t sure if the other boy was gay too, until eventually the line was crossed.

There’s something about doing something (or someone) that you’re not supposed to, and getting away with it. It’s part of human nature, because secrets and rebellion fuel adrenaline – just like it did when we were younger; whether it was fooling around with other closeted boys or stealing penny sweets from the local shop.

As well as that, many of us, whether we admit it – or even realise it – or not, are also enticed by the chase. We get an subliminal sense of accomplishment from sexual encounters with men who aren’t openly gay; it’s as if we’ve completed a secret mission. Straight men are seen as unobtainable, (or at least, less obtainable than openly gay men) and when we achieve something that is difficult – or perceived as difficult – we feel better about ourselves.

It’s a well discussed topic that gay men indulge in promiscuous sex for validation. Well, having sex with someone who doesn’t have sex with men (frequently, anyway) is bound to ignite spark that sense of validation even more. We think, ‘well, he’s straight and he had sex with me, so I must be pretty irresistible‘ – but actually he’s just getting off on the idea of doing something he feels he shouldn’t too.

So is it possible that gay men’s fantasies and attractions towards straight men stem from the ‘forbidden adrenaline’ that brings back an exciting nostalgia, as well as an even deeper sense of validation?

You know when they call it ‘fast food’, but then you’re waiting forever? Yeah, dun know, hurry up bitch I’m starving, if I wanted to wait for forty minutes I’d have gone to somewhere a little more substantial. OH, but while we’re on the topic of substantial. Here’s something definitely more substantial than a Big Mac. And we’re guessing he was waiting for more than you expect to make this vid…

OK, so sometimes we are glad that fast food isn’t as fast as we expected. But we never received a toy like this in our happy meal…

We’ve heard of some kinky fetishes in our time, but we don’t even know how this guy even thought this one up. Last week saw a viral video of a guy putting an Eggplant up his butt while shaking his sausage on a bus. And now this guy is having sex with a car head rest. Guess that’s one way to eleviate  road rage. Better watch out for whip lash. Now, you might be wondering how that works… Well, you can find out here:

CLICK HERE TO SEE THE VERY *NSFW* VIDEO

If you thought the notion that after so much progress we might reach a stage where we’d end up going backwards, was out of reach – you could well be wrong. Although the gay community may seem stronger than ever after recent tragedies, the anti-LGBT attitudes also seem to be building rapidly. First there are reports of Brexit chants claiming to get rid of the “Poles” and then the gays.

Now it seems that a bunch of ignorant homophobes have started a ‘heterosexual pride day’ to counteract LGBT Pride. Here’s what Twitter had to say on the matter. Although, we can’t help but wonder if it only began trending because of the amount of united gays mocking the idea.

We’re not really down with what’s been going on US Big Brother 18, as it doesn’t air over here – but we still discovered the scandal when it was Kenny Brian. Plus Paulie is quite cute! But all we really know is, he’s an ex-soccer player, and he’s pissing a load of people off… And now his ‘alleged’ dick pics are here. Welcome to reality TV.

Califiore supposedly sent Snapchats with the caption: “Soft. Can you handle it hard?” Well, we’d have to see it before we could tell you babes.

CLICK HERE FOR THE X-RATED PIC

[H/T: AntiTwink, Sprinkled Peen]

Another day, another scandal. And today the internet is debating whether these graphic images picture Liam Payne doing the dirty? The landscape in the background has even been likened to an image of Payne standing on a window ledge, sparking speculation that they could’ve both been taken at his 34th floor flat.

Followed by the obligatory, post-coital balcony shot.

THOUGHTS, BOYS AND GIRLS?

You may have heard the saying, “Finding a top in West Hollywood is like finding a hymen in a whorehouse”, and while it’s all fun and games until gay men start scissoring, a recent report has outlined the seriousness of – what has been coined – the Tupperware Turmoil (too many bottoms, not enough tops). Researchers at the West Hollywood University of Versatility have discovered that only 9% of the city’s population have ever topped in their lifetime. That’s the same amount that have felt the emotion empathy.

Leaving forecasters to worry about the future of their gaybourhood. In fact, by the year 2022 it’s questionable if there will be any sex happening at all, apart from when outsiders visit. But even then, the unsuspecting gentlemen are hoovered up like a game of Hungry Hippos.

It’s said that the minute number of tops that reside in the surrounding areas, will have been worn out by the high demand for dick; many of them moving further out to Orange County and San Francisco to allow their genitalia to recover, while gyms will be overrun with muscle marys attempting to rid pent-up sexual frustration.

One prediction includes zombie-like bottoms roaming a West Hollywood wasteland, wide-eyed and pale-skinned searching for a top to suck the life out of. Other, less dramatic interpretations, suggest WeHo will be reduced to dildo parties where bottoms will gather and reminise about the real thing. Some will allow another bottom to penetrate them with sex toys while he throws up into a bucket (and we don’t mean another party-goer), while others will get drunk on mimosas and mourn the loss.

It wouldn’t be uncommon for the bottoms to form a seance, where they sacrifice a drag queen and drink the blood of a twink to summon one. But even the Powers that Be are running low on resources.

“Looking for a top in WeHo is like finding a unicorn in a forest of pricks”, cried one concerned Grindr hoe. A rather apt comparison when every queen in the town thinks they’re a unicorn, but are frequently just your everyday prick.

It’s not all bad news though, underwear designers such as Andrew Christian and Marco Marco will be richer than Richard Branson, just from their line of jockstraps. Party.

So how do they plan to prevent the epidemic? One psychologist suggested that they’re all so far up their own arse, that they should just fuck themselves – if only it were that simple. One idea that been discussed vigorously is the concept of reinforcements being shipped in, but this will extend the Tupperware Turmoil to an international scale. And while it’s often compared to searching for a needle in a haystack, these haystack holes won’t accept no needle dick either. So if you’re not packing some serious package, you’d be better at home fucking a plastic bag.

Officials are urging versatile men to enter the city – with caution – and lead the way in influencing a balance via versaility sex classes.

#WeHoeWithWeHo

Fashion these days is extremely questionable. All you have to do is go to any high school to see wannabes wearing a scoliosis brace ’cause the head cheerleader got in a car crash. Outfits made of used tampons are also totes avant garde – bloody twats. But(t) this tee might leave you looking like a bit of an arsehole… literally!

Upper Playground are selling tops of bottoms. Ironic. Though this would amazing with the pair of testicles I’ve got for earrings, and the fur hat I’ve got made of muff hair. What do you think, is this hole a goal? Or does it stink?

Can’t be that unpopular as they’ve sold out… (Or perhaps the printer discontinued the range).

BUY YOURS HERE

**DISCLAIMER: This post contains dark humor, and venomous banter. If you’re an uptight bitch, click the cross in the corner of the screen. 

In the name of the fillers, the botox, and the holy hot messes; please pray for the delusional souls of desperate wannabes; brutally destroying their looks on the feeble quest to be anything other ordinary. Don’t get me wrong, being ordinary is an absolute travesty, but I’m not going get face-fucked by botch surgeons just to make it onto the Daily Star. Y’all looked DEAD before, and y’all still look DEAD after rinsing your bank account on silicon. You’re supposed to look done up, not dug up; rest in pieces, girl. 

The Desperate Wannabes are like a deranged religious cult. Their Gods are Heidi Montag, Kendra Wilkinson, and any other try-hard with their own show on E! The higher priests are glorified foul-mouths like Frenchy Morgan and Farrah Abraham, while the congregation is made up of pedestrians with “public figure” Facebook pages and Josie Cunningham (even milk curdles when it looks at that one). 

Although every one of these disciples is a total Judas, that’ll sell you out for a few column inches. Why don’t y’all take a leaf out the Bible and get on the fucking cross? You are basically dying to be famous after all. Don’t kill yourself for a bit of publicity hun, not when so much of the general public are willing to lend a hand. I’m fairly certain if the Desperate Wannabes existed in biblical times, there’d be a verse in there somewhere that ended with them all being publicly stoned.

Of course there’s nothing wrong with ambition; and it’s healthy to strive for success. But not when it comes without hard work, talent, skill, relevance or a face that doesn’t resemble a Picasso painting. Telling doctors they wanna look like Katie Price, and coming out like Katie Half-Price. 

Whitney once sang, “I believe the children are the future.” Fuck me sideways and call me Pamela. If that’s the case, ‘the future is not-so bright, and extremely orange’. But what can we expect with walking Wotsit Ryan Rutledge on our screens, promoting tanning injections – which he thinks the NHS should pay. Tell you what we will pay for, you cheeky twat, a syringe full of malaria. Although I’m sure he’d die of delusion before any other disease; she needs more than a prayer… she needs to get on the cross. The future also looks like a Baboon’s prolapse with desperate teenage whores sucking off a Dyson to get lips like Kylie Jenner. Smh, when I was 16 we performed oral on Henry – but he wasn’t a hoover. 

They say fame comes at a price, which you paid heavily to look like a sex doll that nobody wants to have sex with.

I won’t even divulge into the hopeless Kardashian kulture we live and breathe everyday, because although they’re everywhere; they’re funny. They seem nice. And they’re also pretty to look at. So believe it or not, there is actually a basement floor to this hideous house of horror. And they all have about as much social awareness as the Fritzl children that spent 30 years in one. 

We have the rise of reality TV to thank for that one. Again, the difference being that the main ‘characters’ tend to be mildly-entertaining. Unless they’re auditioning for Ex on the Beach or Love Island, which only requires an above-average physique, a below-average IQ and to nail they’re dignity to the cross in front of thousands of viewers. If only they’d just crucify each other. What director told these cunts to emerge from the sea, when they should be shoulder-deep in it getting baptized? Filthy bastards.  

Isn’t anybody else bored of witnessing young adults set fire to their decorum just for a few Twitter followers? I’ve got Porn Hub, I don’t need to see you tranny messes getting wocked out on prime time TV. So spare a prayer for the Desperate Wannabes, shredding dignity with every step in a bid for a fame that’s as hollow as their self-respect.

(I mean for fuck sake Laura, you’re gonna skin his knob alive with your nashers out like that).

Two words: Big Brother. The revolutionary social experiment that is now nothing more than a platform for beg-fame fucktards to compete for the title of least hated Z-lister with less appeal than leprosy. Hello… Without star quality, your career is already dead, buried, cremated and scattered. Rest in pieces, eediat gal. 

But at least they know they’re aware of their quest to be a leftover slice of irrelevance. The best ones are the ones who believe they have the right to be recognised. You actually think you could win the X Factor? And then unveil an audition so cringe-worthy I’m ’bout to nail myself to the cross just so I don’t have to watch anymore. That’s when delusion is so severe, you’re surprised it hasn’t crippled them like osteoporosis. Who are your family? Where are friends? Anybody that will tell you the brutal truth… lactose intolerance can sing better. 

British soaps don’t do us any favours either; producing a series of bimbos queueing up to be the next bombshell… Bombsite, more like. Helen Flanagan and Jorgie Porter (soz) are better known for getting their lils out for Zoo magazine than any acting credit. FYI lasses, double Ds doesn’t stand for desperate dimwits. Though Stephanie Davis is by far the most irrelevant person that constantly airs her dirty laundry – and I’m not even talking about her knickers.

Then there’s the flogs of slags in tiny dresses, mobbing out the clubs of Mayfair in the vain hope they’ll bag a football player or reality star. When the best they’ll get is a story to sell to a tabloid, ‘cause men don’t wifey girls with baggy gashes. 

And the drivel of desperation has seeped into the brain cells of the average pedestrian too. Name-dropping all over their Facebook: ‘Just a casual day at work styling Geri Halliwell’. Firstly, if you’re gonna name-drop, make it worthwhile. Secondly, you are not her friend, you were Ginger Spice’s bitch. Think about that while you relax on the cross. 

It’s hard to put your finger on exactly what it is about the Desperate Wannabes that gives off that unholy vibe (not that you’d want to touch them without a pair of marigolds on), but you just know they’d be getting exorcised back in the day.

Are you that desperate for people to know you’re name, that you’re willing to drag it through the mud? That’s why your aura is brown, babe. You’re vexing yourself out for something so shallow, when if you invested half as much energy into personal growth, you’d easily reach a satisfactory level of success, without morphing into a mind-numbing mingbat.  

So please spare a prayer, for poor withered souls of these mercilessly unhappy humans. They may give it all the front, but there’s nothing more exhausting than chasing your 15 minutes of fame, especially when all it’s trying to do is run away from you. Aren’t you tired yet, hun? Have a nap… On the cross. 

Harry Judd was always our favourite member of McFly – mainly because of those sexy pics he did for Attitude. But there’s an image circulating which claims to show him again in his birthday suit, but this time in full glory. And though he’s never been shy of showing off his body, we’ve never seen this much of him…

CLICK HERE

I’ve recently come out as a gay man after being in denial for a long time. I’m only 30 but I was holding myself back for so long. Now I’ve decided to be more confident about who I am. I’ve started dating guys and I have fallen for someone and I’m loving it! We’re only a week into dating and it’s given me such an amazing feeling that I’m desperate for it to carry on.

My concern is, does he feel the same? I don’t want to be too pushy or needy, but I’m just really excited about how things are going. What do I need to do to keep him happy or interested? I don’t want it to go cold or for him to be put off.

Dear Debs,

I feel bad in having to point this out, but “only” 30 years old, ain’t no spring chicken. Not for a gay man, dear. You’ve only got a few years left before the queens shove you into clichés like ‘bear’ and ‘daddy’. So in that sense, you are right to get a move on… But you better slam those breaks on sweetie, ’cause you are a car crash waiting to happen. And I don’t mean the little dents like when you drive high, I’m talking a big fat fucking fatality. And you’re gonna be the one who flies through the windscreen and ends up mangled.

I’m glad that you’re feeling confident in who you are, own it – but you can’t go talking about “falling” for someone so soon! The only “falling” you gone and done, is bumped your head! I mean, a WEEK? I’ve been at after-parties that have gone on longer. That’s SEVEN DAYS. And I know that’s not unheard of, but I’m guessing you ain’t no Craig David, love? How much can you really know about someone in a week? What if you go tumbling head over heels for this stranger, and then find out he’s a con-artist? Or a vegan?! They are just as bad, after all.

I get that you’re buzzing ’cause you don’t have to hide your Cher posters anymore – trust me – I feel the same way when I mix uppers and downers, but if you don’t bitch-slap some sense into yourself, you’ll be single again quicker than you can say “back on Grindr”. In fact, unless he’s deleted his apps, you’re still single now. Take heed of the old saying: more hash less speed! Although I have to be honest, unless he’s as equally unhinged, ain’t no advice column gonna stop you from messing this up. I’m already awaiting the ‘murder-suicide’ headline on the Pink News.

So when he gets a restraining order if it doesn’t work, just remember that being single again isn’t the worst thing… You’ve barely been out the closet and already you wanna settle down? Flirt around! Play the field! Get fisted!

Why don’t you try wearing a ring on your cock instead of your heart on your sleeve? At least for a few months until you grow into your new found tank top.

If you’re really eager to see where this leads, chill the fuck out Winona. You wanna keep him interested, you need to keep him guessing… add a little mystery. Ignore his texts once in while, cancel your next date, sleep with his dad. You know, be aloof! He’ll be banging your door down (or back door in).

Caio! xoxo

It’s no secret that we love our hags as much as they love us. We take them to family weddings as our plus one, we constantly drag the to gay bars, but above all, we provide a standard for her future man to leave up to – ’cause nobody treats our girls like dirt. Here’s a few other things the girls have in common…

1. You thought Tinder was rough… until you heard about Grindr

2. You have no problem going to gay clubs because it’s always less drama 

3. Actually, you love the wild nights with the gays:

4. Well, until you get hit on by a lesbian:

5. Or until it gets to Monday morning and you’re still out:

6. And then Tuesday comes:

7. Or until you get ditched so your friends can go to a sauna, sex party, all-male club or just a Grindr-jiggy

8. Though on the inside you’re feeling like this:

9. Even though without them, your weekends would be spent productively:

10. You care about gay rights, because without them you’d be hanging around with a bunch of girls you hate

11. You’ve been to Pride more times than you can count:

12. Sometimes you have to live your sex life vicariously through your gay friends  

12. You occasionally think you’re just a gay man trapped inside a woman’s body

13. In fact, you frequently find your gay friends ideals rubbing off on you:

14. You’re actually a bomb wing-woman because chatting to other gay men comes so naturally to you

15. You totally understand all gay slang 

16. Your finely tuned gaydar means you can spot a queen a mile-off:

17. You get hag-jealousy:

18. Catching up with your gay is totally your favourite past-time

19. Even when your schedule is busy, you’ll find the time to catch the gossip:

20. When your gay best friend is fierce af and you walk into the club:

21. Having queens gush over you (or your outfit) the second you enter a gay bar

22. But deep down you know you’re fabulous:

23. Though low-key you do hate that nobody wants to have sex with you 

24. You can always talk so openly with them about your sexcapades (“cocktalk”)

25. And finally, you just really love gay company 

Well, apart from gays like this:

Author: Anthony Gilét

Forget Lean in 15, this is ‘Lean in 15 Tokes’. You may not necessarily correlate losing weight with smoking weed, what with the unholy munchies that usually come with it, but there must be a reason Rihanna, Miley Cyrus and Kristen Sweart aren’t putting the pounds on. Science has previously shown that weed increases your metabolism, and while that sounds good right off the bat, that’s actually what gives you the munchies. But that hasn’t prevented it from becoming the new fad diet:

So we’ve put together some techniques for people that love getting stoned, but hate being fat.

Firstly, be determined. We found that the chances of dodging the munchies are twice as greater when you have it in the back of your mind that you can beat them.

Chuffing the reefa definitely shifts the pounds if you don’t over-munch. Firstly, we believe that the secret to getting baked without eating the entire bakery, lies in conditioning. If you can condition yourself to associate smoking with a suppressed appetite, then you can smoke – at least more frequently – without always raiding the sweetie aisle in Tesco. There’s a few ways you can do this…

Smoke more: Like most drugs, weed carries a certain level of resistance, and studies have shown that people who smoke weed daily had lower appetite levels than those that smoke less frequently. Which is great if you don’t have to use your brain, you know, like ever. When we’ve smoked more than usual, you do find that immediately after you’re not hungry in the slightest. But the downside with this technique is it’s longevity, depending on the strength of your spliffs, by the time you get to the fourth one, the munchies will probably still find you.

Smoke less: If you start by smoking really weak spliffs the munchies shouldn’t hit you too badly, the more weed you smoke, the more likely it is you’ll wanna eat everything within reach. If you’re smoking for long periods of time, we use the Exclamation Mark scheme: Lots of light blunts, followed by a big fat one at the end to fuck you up.

Surround yourself with people: You’re less likely to eat more when you’re in the company of other people, than if you’re slobbing in bed alone (unless you’re applying any of the other techniques on in this article).

Night cap spliffs – this is one the most useful ways to lose weight smoking weed, a little spliff just before bed. If you’re getting in to bed anyway, roll a mini spliff, but pack that shit out. You’ll get stoned, but should more or less fall straight to sleep. OK, so you don’t get to sit there laughing at your own foot for 20 minutes, but you also don’t eat 17 cookies, five packets of Cheetos and 2kg of bacon.

This is also great, because it means your metabolism will be left to speed up, while you sleep. And it conditions your body to accept weed and then not eat for the next eight hours, which means that the more you do this, the less hungry you’ll get when you smoke weed at any of time of day too. So don’t let anybody tell you there’s no way to shift eight without exercise, that’s bullshit.

How to Stop the Munchies

Cheat your tastebuds: When you’re baked you get cravings, usually between something savoury and something sweet; so rather than reaching for the Haribo, eat fruit. Rather than chocolate, have a protein bar, or chocolate protein shake. Swap biscuits for nuts. And swap fizzy drinks for water – yes, an ice cold 7Up hits the spot, but it’s so unnecessary – and you know it – so cut it out.

Eat before: This is also a pretty useful technique. Eat a big meal before you smoke, and then you’ll already be full when it kicks in. Simple. Even though the food tastes way better when you smoke before…

Prep your munchies: It’s always better to buy your munchies before you get stoned – which is kind of obvious. If you fill yourself up on healthy snacks (as above) and a hot meal, you’re less likely to haul ass down the shop, especially if you’re high af.

Move house: You’re extra lucky if you live nowhere near a store because when it’s like a 15 minute walk, half the time you’re just like nah, fuck that.

Distract yourself: Distractions are a good way to take your focus from thinking about food, if you’re going travelling somewhere you get too busy enjoying the buzz to make a snack-stop. Being outside often has a positive impact on your appetite because you’re not snuggled up in a comfty environment which more likely makes people wanna eat.

Play music: But what has this gotta do with eating? If you’ve got the tunes on, you aren’t on auto pilot watching Orange Is The New Black, elbow-deep in a share pack of Doritos, but also before we reach the point of complete cabbage, it can encourage you to have a little skank on your own.

Appetite suppressants: Then you have the usual things people use to stop themselves from eating; smoking (cigarettes), tea (especially green tea), red bull and chewing gum. All which we would say are mildly affective.

We thought our party trick of patting our heads and rubbing our stomach at the same time was impressive. Well, we certainly won’t be standing next to this guy when we show it to you, as we know you won’t be paying us any attention. Danny D (we wonder what the D stands for?), was attending the UK porn awards, as he was nominated for Best Penis in an Original Screenplay (or something).

The Red Carpet was hosted by Fletcher Cowan, who exclaimed “That is. Absolutely. Stunning. By the way…” Somebody bring a sister a glass of water – and make it a large one!

Full red carpet coverage is HERE:

It’s part of the Dreamboys contract to flaunt their flesh as the renowned show tours stages up and down the country – but if you’ve ever wondered just how much flesh they show at the live strip… Well, it’s definitely an over 18s kinda gig. The videos show Martin demonstrating his tricks of the trade with a British flag – and in turn sending these nympho middle-aged women into wailing banshees.

As you can see, he also does the standard stripper whip-cream trick, as well as a bit of window cleaning. What can we say, he works HARD for the money.

When we heard about a ‘Zayn Malik gay sex tape’, we were ready for shit to hit the fan – but it’s since been claimed that the tape doesn’t belong to him, but rather an uncanny look-a-like. While plenty of fans speculated whether the footage portrayed the former One Directioner sucking D like a pro, a few Tumblrs have stated that the real person, is actually a doppleganger that’s known for his Zayn-like looks.

And even though most of the internet has accepted the video isn’t really Malik, it hasn’t stopped the clip getting hundreds of thousands of clicks – just to make sure. (Or perhaps imagine what it would be like if it was him).

CLICK HERE FOR THE VIDEO

Though it looks a lot less like him when you see him head on (no pun intended):

BUT if you wanna see how close the resemblence was… CLICK HERE.