Overview | The Room | The People | The Location | The Gay Scene | The Verdict
If you’re a Manhattan novice, or even if you’re not, you’ll probably want to stay close to Times Square. The hip and the cool amongst us will tell you that you need to stay on the lower west side where you’ll find the meatpacking district, Chelsea Greenwich but the newly opened Moxy, brings that effortlessly cool vibe right to Times Square’s backyard.
★★★★★ | Matthew Bourne’s Cinderella
From the muted grey-scale colour palette of the opening act, through the smoke-filled streets of the Blitz and onto the underground dance halls of war-torn London, Matthew Bourne’s bold, vivid and visually stunning reimagining of Cinderella is an utter delight. Doting to her father, mercilessly teased by her (extended) stepfamily and berated by her stepmother, Cinderella finds love amongst the destruction, as she falls for Harry, a dashing pilot.
Bourne creates a world which is rich in characterisations, from the transformation of the mouse-like Cinderella into the belle of the ball to the Cruella de Ville style stepmother and the humorous, and deliciously creepy, foot-fetishist stepbrother. Every dancer tells an individual story, and each character has their own tale to tell. Yet despite having so much to look at, Bourne’s choreography seamlessly blends dance styles including lindy hop, jazz and ballet to create a clearly defined and easy to follow narrative; and there is a tangible sense of atmosphere permeating the theatre both within and throughout every scene. But underneath the fairy tale spectacle of it all, is a slightly darker story of love, yearning and belonging, bringing with it the power to pack an emotional punch.
In a cast of technically precise dancers, Ashley Shaw is captivating as the titular heroine, whilst Andrew Monaghan simply excelled as he cut a swathe across the floor as the dashing pilot, proving that the romanticised notion of the leading man is still very much around. Lez Brotherston’s set design is superb, reflecting the hum-drum monotony of Cinderella’s home life in Act 1 before (quite literally) exploding into a riot of colour and movement in the second act and continuing to surprise well into Act 3. The show has a cinematic quality and feel to it, and is as inventive and multi-layered as it is visually exciting.
Matthew Bourne’s Cinderella is a phenomenal breath-taking production which is absolutely sublime on every level.
The show runs at Sheffield Lyceum Theatre until 19th May 2018 before continuing on its national tour. New Adventures has recently announced a new national tour for Swan Lake for 2018/19
There are the countries places on earth that have specific laws which call for the death penalty of those who are found to have engaged in homosexual acts.
Men could face execution but are more likely to receive long prison sentences. No executions are known to have been handed out since the end of the Taliban rule.
Gay men in Brunei could be stoned or given 10 years in prison if found guilty of homosexual acts.
In Iran, gay men can be lashed up to 74 times for “immature men” and the death penalty for mature men of sound mind – and where the acts were consenting. Women can be lashed 50 times and can face the death penalty after their fourth conviction.
Homosexuality is against the law in Mauritania and could attract the death penalty, however, there have been no public executions since 1987.
In Qatar, gay men may face execution if they are Muslim otherwise men can face fines and a prison sentence which lasts 7 years.
A second conviction of homosexuality in Saudi Arabia will land a death penalty. For the first offence, men can face fines, castration, flogging, prison and torture.
Homosexuality has been illegal in Sudan since 1899. Death penalty occurs on the third offence for men and four offences for women.
Married men can expect to be stoned to death if caught having same-sex relations. Unmarried men will receive 100 lashes or one-year imprisonment.
Gay men could face death in Libya.
Homosexuality is illegal in some states of Nigeria and could attract the death penalty. These states include: Bauchi, Borno, Gombe, Jigawa, Kaduna, Kano, Katsina, Kebbi, Niger, Sokoto, Yobe, and Zamfara
Homosexuality is illegal in Somalia and could attract a death penalty. Islamic courts have sentenced men to their deaths using Sharia law as their legal basis.
The actual penalty that gay men should face for homosexual acts is a prison for up to 3 years, however, due to the rise in ISIS a highly advertised death awaits those found guilty of engaging in same-sex sexual acts.
Despite homosexuality not being illegal in Iraq, there have been reported executions of gay men in ISIS-controlled areas.
* Brunei is a Sovereign state and not a country.
There are some countries where although capital punishment might not be constitutionally ratified there are cases where gay people have been killed because of their sexuality.
And we’re not talking about the rock on her finger.
Imagine if you will, your beloved has just proposed to you and planted a huge ring and rock on your finger. Naturally, you want to send a photo of that bling to your friends / the world. But here’s where some caution is needed – especially if you haven’t swapped your photo setting from “live photo” to just normal “photo”.
Live Photo is a feature on the iPhoto which captures a few moments before and after you click the shutter – meaning you get a small video clip instead of a single photo. Brilliant if you want to capture more than just a second in history – not so great if your boyfriend is likely to whip out his D, while you show off to the world your new jewel.
Which is exactly what happened to this woman, who sent a Live Photo to her friends – while her hung future husband, whipped it out. Such a romantic.
? Waiting for my friend to realize she sent us all a Live Photo… pic.twitter.com/dh4cMBZbkp
— Nick (@NICKWALSH) May 4, 2018
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★★★★☆ | How It Is
Do I have to slide cocks up my a** to write about gay theatre? Or shag up-for-it nymphomaniacs to dissect heterosexual art? By that logic, I’d have to be a practicing serial killer, a Jeffrey Dahmer in pantyhose, to appreciate Silence of the Lambs! So – having exposed and pushed the absurdities of that laughably reductive thinking waaaay to one side, let’s objectively appraise How It Is, a purgatorial, afterlife masterpiece from the fevered genius of Samuel Beckett, one of Ireland’s greatest ever writers!
Never heard of him? Oh come now, that’s barely credible. Why, Waiting for Godot, Beckett’s theatrical debut, revealed prodigious, game-changing talent, sufficient to alter the entire course of the Western world’s modes of dramatic discourse. Simply put, Beckett, most often, dramatises monologuing consciousness on either the point of death, or immediately beyond, in some utterly unknowable afterlife. And it’s that sense of psychological extremity – going where no queens have gone before – that knots his artistic DNA firmly into the fabulous beyond that defines so much LGBT theatre. Again and again – as in Alexis Gregory’s recently-staged Sex/Crime – diversity drama routinely accesses states of mind, situations and politically contested identity wholly unknown to heterosexual, mainstream audiences. To name just three, K-holes, cum lollies and sauna-house sex-orgies barely enter the dreams, or stain the yearning nightmares, of Joe and Jill Public. Frankly, considered as the ripe, luscious and shockingly perverse fruits of an entire community, LGBT artistry has charged and enlarged subject matter inconceivable to previous, genteel and sexually lobotomised, generations.
Still, Beckett – even if his work owes virtually nothing to any known form of sexual persuasion – takes us on exhilarating journeys to the limits of human consciousness. Think viciously addictive K-holes laced with severe existentialism, as we’re plunged, repeatedly, into theatrical experiences offering little more than static performers ranting in sparsely-lit spaces. How, then, can such raw, spartan materials provide riveting, arse-clenching excitement?
Easily. Take the Republic of Ireland’s Gare St. Lazare theatre company, currently unleashing Beckett’s How It Is at Notting Hill’s breathtakingly gorgeous, Art Deco Coronet Print Room theatre. This, frankly, is theatre as psychological assault course; immediately, we’re metaphorically kidnapped, trussed up, and – quite probingly – interrogated. How? Well, by deploying the dramatic equivalent of anal sex – reversing the so-called, ‘natural’ order, replacing exits with unexpected entrances. Which, here, means sitting an audience on the stage and setting the actors – and action – in the raked stalls and balcony circling that stage.
Disconcerting? As f*ck – instantly, and just as in consensual S&M, one’s constrained yet feels a paradoxical sense of liberation, of being fed carefully-rationed ecstasies that permit joy only by strictly-directed pathways. And – make no mistake – theatre rarely comes any bleaker, with such huge demands blissfully rewarding rapt attention.
Ultimately, this is theatre raw, stripped and immediate, with a narrative as brief, stark and thrillingly erotic as Christ being summarily condemned and crucified. Initially, one lone voice in the darkness – an unnamed narrator – speaks of three states of existence, being alone, with, and finally without ‘Pim’, his or her presumed companion. Three performers – Conor Lovett, Stephen Dillane and Mel Mercier – tackle Beckett’s dense, repetitive text like an overlapping, choral immersion in stately sonic tidal waves, as, gradually, a narrative – of sorts – emerges.
Naked, an unnamed soul slithers in endless mud and darkness clutching a sack inexhaustibly – and inexplicably – replenished with cans of sardines. He’s joined -again inexplicably- by another, communicating by jabbing a can-opener in the other’s buttocks, stabbing out Morse code messages. Yes, it’s a submissive, role-playing queen’s ultimate wet-dream, but – with nothing except intermittent bursts of light, dry ice, and the hoarse rubbing of actor’s voices in transfixed cadences – we’re collectively cajoled into instantaneously synthesising Beckett’s purgatorial hell inside our minds. If theatre, finally, is nothing, but voices, lights, gestures and consenting imagination, the Gare St. Lazare company take that haphazard, shockingly artistic marriage to sheer transcendence. We wait, quite simply, in delighted awe for their future liaisons with the shatteringly bleak -but dramatically irresistible- voices of Samuel Beckett.
How It Is By Samuel Beckett @ Coronet Print Room Theatre, Notting Hill Gate to May 19th. 0203-642-6606. 4 Stars!
Pooping is a fact of life when you’re dealing with the butt and anal sex. Yep, for the most part, the butt is where waste leaves your body – and to that end, nothing really to be ashamed about. We all do it.
If you’re bottoming, there are ways to minimise a poop event, by being careful of what you eat before sex and also taking time over your cleaning preparation. But, sometimes even the most careful of us, will have that moment of, “oh sht, that’s sht”.
Don’t worry it’s not the end of the world. There are some options for you. You can both jump in the shower and have a wash down, or if your partner is up for it, flip roles!
ALSO READ: What’s a white-glove bottom?
ALSO READ: 10 things you should know about rimming
So what happens if you accidentally have a pooping incident during sex, these nine guys share what they think when the shiz hits the fan.
1) “Wash, rinse, repeat.” (VIA)
2) “If neither one can get by with a little poo then neither one should be having anal in the first place. Shit happens. It’s a butt – what’d you expect?” (VIA)
3) “Usually, I think that ends anal for the night. Hop in the shower, rinse off, resume oral/body contact/making out. I’ve never gone back to anal after an incident lol but that’s nbd”. (VIA)
4) “Clean up and proceed or flip roles if they happen to be clean. It’s really only a problem if you don’t have a place to wash up around.” (VIA)
5) “Take it to the shower, with silicone lube in hand. Ta-da.” (VIA)
6) “It’s an occupational hazard, like catching a pube when you’re giving a blowjob. Grow up, and towel off, I guess? Humanity is repulsive if you look at it with any seriousness. I find accepting that goes a long way.” (VIA)
7) “It’s the ass’ way of communicating. It says “I want more”” (VIA)
8) “Yeah, have to say I laugh at the tops who get all squeamish about guys ‘cleaning’ beforehand. You are putting your penis into an asshole. It’s where poop comes from”. (VIA)
9) “It’s just literally the male equivalent to a queef. If you’re pounding air into something it’s going to release. The bottom doesn’t even usually know it’s going to happen”. (VIA)
I’m a young man that likes what he likes, and unfortunately, I’m a sucker for a handsome man with a six-pack. I follow a lot of men on my feed, and whilst I know they’re unattainable, it’s still fun to look.
But in the wake of the #MeToo movement, bringing awareness to sexual assault and harassment to women, I begin to wonder if objectifying these men is going to become problematic. Aren’t we just as bad for lusting over images of topless men? Of course, the main difference here on Instagram is these men are living their best lives, and they’re uploading photos for the endless stream of attention they receive from their thousands of followers, or so we’re led to believe.
The constant stream of cocktails on the sandy beaches of a faraway country, of sunglasses and shorts whilst I, watch a snow storm, ignites not jealousy, but instead a sense of longing. According to a recent survey, Instagram was rated the top social media app that is bad for one’s mental health. Is it any wonder that a discovery like that has been found?
We so desperately want to quit our mundane, often dead-end jobs, for a life that seems so much better. So desperate are we that we forget that social media shows us only the good. Who uploads a photograph of them with a massive spot, dribble down their chin and from a bad angle?
Instead, we plump for Valencia filters, with airbrushed skin and cleverly crafted digital tans. The social media culture we live in has given us the best of the best, forever making us feel like we have to keep up. When we can’t, we sink lower, finding the ebb of sadness.
Goodness, we’ve got a bit sad here, haven’t we? For a first article, you’d think I’d show you my best side! But then I’d be playing up to the picture-perfect lifestyle you see plastered all over Instagram.
For men, it’s hard to discuss body confidence issues. It’s not talked about often, and so we tend not to mention it. I’m one to say I have body confidence issues, and I’m sure there would be others out there that say I have no right to be self-conscious about the way I look. But I do, and it’s common for people of all shapes and sizes to have those issues.
A common problem for men is the fear that their size is just not good enough. Straight men know their girlfriends or potential partners will discuss a ‘perfect size’, and in the gay community, we also discuss men’s sizes. The myth of the penis size is a strange one. On one hand, many people simply don’t mind. On the other, it’s preference. Body confident Instagram men show off everything, and leave very little to the imagination. With strict Instagram guidelines on nudity, the toned gods have found ways around this, showing blurs and imprints in the tightest fabrics you could ever see. It’s very unlikely to see anything other than a hand full in images like this.
It’s easy to believe that the hot men we see on Instagram don’t think like this. We imagine them earning money for every post, spending a second in the gym and getting a killer body, and spending hour after hour taking in culture, relaxing by pools, and drinking refreshing drinks. It’s easy because that is all we see of these complete strangers.
We don’t know their lifestyle, not really. We see what they want us to see. It’s hard to remember that when we’re sat in a dilapidated house, wondering how we’re going to afford rent at the end of the month.
If you ever feel like you are comparing yourself to others, it’s time to find that unfollow button, and click unfollow. Take some time away from the glossy too busy to model men, and instead focus on what’s around you.
In a world where there’s an acronym or term for everything, Ghosting is where a guy you’ve been chatting to on an app, or even have hooked up with, simply doesn’t return your messages or calls. Not even a tag…
That’s right, you’ve put in the time, even gone to dinner and then, without explanation he’s gone into the night, like a ghost. Never to be heard of again.
Bastard.
There could be a number of reasons why a guy might suddenly stop messaging you. Perhaps he wasn’t totally up front with you about his personal circumstances, he could be married or in another relationship.
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It could be something you said that really offended him or it could be that he said something that totally embarrassed him, and he’s too ashamed to speak to you again.
The crazy thing about ghosting is that it can happen IRL and virtually. You can be ghosted on dating apps or on social media. On Grindr, we’ve found that ghosting is quite common. In a recent survey, we found that 88% of Grindr users had said that they had been ghosted on the app.
If he’s gone off social media or his dating profile is no longer active, then something even more final could have happened. The problem is that you’ll never know.
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The best thing is to be happy for the time you had together and move on. Don’t live in the past, look to the future.
Although they are linked, Ghosting and Zombie-ing are different. Zombie-ing is where your ghost, the one that you thought you’d never hear from again, suddenly comes back to life and starts wanting to hang out again. Let’s face it Zombie’s and Ghosts should be ignored and your attention should be focused on the land of the living.
The Black Cat of the Family
Jaguar booked out the E-Pace we had set for review and so came up with another XF-R Sport for us to try here at THEGAYUK. I was keen to see if my original views on the petrol version would be mirrored into this diesel model.
I wasn’t particularly kind about the last Jaguar XF R-sport we had on test. I said the handling was a bit safe. Indeed it was. Having tried another example I can honestly say that I more than enjoyed the XF-R Sport. This is how it should be done.
For reasons, I cannot explain this other than the diesel engine makes light work of progress through the 8-speed automatic gearbox. And a good job too because it only has a rev range of 750rpm where maximum torque is made. a massive 500 Nm between 1750-2500 rpm. Compared to the petrol engines 269 Nm around 1200-4500 you can see where the magic happens and how quickly it does it.
I’m not a fan of the diesel engine. That has now changed to ‘I am a fan of the diesel engine’ and despite the current uncertainty surrounding the black pump at the forecourt, you need to still consider it. For a start in the combined miles to the gallon, the diesel will do another 11 over the petrol.
Back to the impressive torque of the engine, it is suited to the XF R-Sport script. It lacks overall power compared to the petrol but by the time the petrol version has caught up you are well away to a claimed top speed of 153. That’s 6 more than the petrol. Other than that, performance is identical.
They say it is anyway on paper. In practice, it really isn’t. And this is where the already awarded four star XF gains an additional star. It’s not a 5-star car yet compared to the last one I have to award it another star simply for being so much more fun to drive.
The low down grunt still doesn’t kick you in the back. It’s still progressive but those 8 cogs in the gearbox keep up and allow for some sporty driving that you associate with Jaguar saloons. It was so much better to drive. Even the steering felt more connected and I know for a fact that there is no difference between the set up of this car to the other. It’s all down to the engine and how it propels you down the road. Very well I might add.
Another plus though I don’t often comment on is the colour combination. The red with chocolate leather worked better than the last offerings of black on black with more black and white inserts. What I still don’t like and the brown leather only made it all the worse was the blue cabin lights. I do not like them. Interior lighting is so important inside a car. By day you hardly notice it, come night it can make or break a car.
Last time I also moaned about the clumsy cruise control settings. This model was also fitted with adaptive cruise, it’s a £1460 option and in my book, it should be standard on every car fitted with cruise control. It could be that the adaptive cruise made setting it easier because it was so simple to use and set.
One thing, well a couple of things are apparent in the diesel version over the petrol. The firstly is the noise of the engine in the cabin. It’s just a little too vocal. I’d like my Jaguar to be somewhat more suppressed to engine noise. From cold it is quiet and once warm quieter still yet it’s muted clatter is still there. What is absent is the vibration on start-up from the auto stop-start. You could always detect it in the petrol model.
There isn’t much more to be said about the XF R-Sport other than this one was £700 cheaper yet it didn’t have the 360-degree camera package. Add that and it would be priced almost matching the petrol model. It’s an option I liked having. Anyway, you need to test the diesel if you are considering the petrol model. Two cars, identical in all but the engine and my word what a difference it is. You may just find yourself, like me totally in awe of the black fuel.
Love
Engine flexibility
Economy
Handling
Loathe
Blue interior lighting
Trim tactility
Engine noise
The Lowdown
Car –Jaguar XF R-Sport 240ps AWD
Price – £58,175 (as tested)
MPG – 51.4 mpg (combined)
Power – 0-62mph – 6.2 seconds
Top Speed 153 mph
Co2 – 144 (g/km)
Plans are being made to make “porn passes” available at local newsagents, which will allow people in the UK who want to watch porn to bypass inputting personal data which proves their age to various porn sites, according to The Independent. It is a way in which people can access porn anonymously once the new law comes into force.
The law means that you have to prove you are over the age of 18 before you can access porn sites in the UK and is part of the Digital Economy Act. The rules will apply to any website or platform which offers porn on a “commercial basis”.
Advocates for the new rules hope that the measures will protect children from online porn.
Buying a “porn pass” means that you will have to hand over personal information to your local newsagent, who will be able to issue you with an anonymous pass, which will allow you access to adult sites in the UK.
A spokesman for the Department of Culture, Media and Sport, which is responsible for the new legislation, said, “We are in the process of implementing some of the strictest data protection laws in the world.
“A wide variety of online age verification solutions exist, or are in development, and they will have to abide by these high standards. We expect data security to be a high priority in the BBFC’s guidance on age verification arrangements.”
In December 2014, pornography produced in the UK was subject to strict rules under the David Cameron’s Tory government. The types of scenes which studios could film were severely restricted with an amendment to the 2003 Communications Act.
Some of the activities banned by the Conservative government could overtly affect the porn consumption of gay men in the UK – including those who watch BDSM, rimming (facesitting) and fisting.
Thoughts?