So anyway, this evening I put on a decent shirt and get a taxi out to Fudge.
Yeah, Fudge. Yeah, I know. I know, all right? What can I say? Just because you’re gay, it doesn’t guarantee a sophisticated sense of humour. Anyway, the place itself is decent enough. You get all sorts there, of course. It’s the only proper gay nightclub in the county. A lot of people head to London, but I never liked that scene. Too impersonal. Now, of course, it’s just a bugger getting down to the Underground in a wheelchair.
Fudge is small, but it’s nice enough. There’s a queue at the door, but what do you know? Cripples get preferential treatment. I even get a butch bouncer offering to wheel me in, but he’s not really my type, so I tell him no thanks. I roll myself up the ramp, wondering if it was always the
