Coming Out

He told his mum that he was gay

And familiar language changed that day.

As poof was a word she could not say,

Her footstool became the lounge pouffee.

Something strange was no longer queer

Everything was now odd, my dear.

And Elizabeth Two was not the Queen

It was Her Majesty on the screen.

She now checked out his every mate

Asking if they were gay or straight.

And if two girls came to stay

She wondered if they leaned ‘that way’

He had to say, Mum please don’t fuss

You’re just exhausting all of us.

My friends, except the odd one or two,
Are as varied and normal as me and you.

The Diddie-Di-Diddie Club

There are some clubs that cost a fortune to join
And you can't get in if you don't have the coin.
Others have member numbers so small
It's a wonder the clubs survive at all.

There are gentlemen's clubs for men in suits
With faithful trustees who polish their boots.
And workers' clubs where entry's so hard
That you can't get in without a Union card

There are clubs for people who like to talk
And clubs for those who run, cycle or walk.
If your club is one where you own a gun
You can go to the range and have some fun.

You can play scrabble and euchre and gin
Depending on the club you're in.
If you're smart you can join Mensa.
If not so smart, there's always Densa.

But my friend John said the club for him
Was one that anyone was allowed to be in.
You've probably heard how people say:
Diddie-Di-Diddie? when someone passes away.

Did he die, did he?
RIP my friend.