Pensioner Confused by The Gay

Sauchiehall street, lunchtime.

There’s differing levels of “being gay”. 0 (you’d never know) to 10 (camp as hell), and the guy I was walking towards was about a 7.

He was literally flouncing down the street, chatting on his mobile, in his light flouncy voice, dressed in skinny black jeans, trainers and some shirt which had floaty bits on it. I gave him a little look before my eyes were drawn to the woman behind. A short pensioner.

She may not have seen “one of them gays” before as she was walking behind him staring wide eyed at his flouncing. She was wearing a purple coat, and had a purple rinse through her hair. If you ask me, she looked more gay than him.