Kev and Karl bleary, nay blarney, -eyed at Monday morn mews meet post Dublin forays. Report back to Boss myself re last week’s Suit and Tie push, eschewing reference to Kev ‘n Karl’s own shirted escapes. Gay man on Switchboard line that eve, bemoaning fact he fears he’s not being treated fairly by authorities as a prospective adoptive parent. Refer him to a new web network created by a gay couple to support other gay singles and same-sex pairs going through the adoption process: http://www.newfamilysocial.co.uk/. Suspect he’s not alone. A recent major poll of lesbian and gay people, commissioned by Stonewall, found that - despite recent legislative protections - a majority still believe they will be discriminated against when accessing public services. Almost a third expect to be treated worse than a heterosexual when enrolling their child in primary or secondary school; nine in ten think they would face barriers from becoming a foster parent; and three in five still think they’d face obstacles if they wanted to be a parliamentary candidate for the Labour Party - a figure that rises to 90% for the Tories. Moreover, one in five expect worse treatment when applying for social housing; 60% expect to face hurdles to becoming a magistrate; a fifth expect to be treated worse than a heterosexual when reporting any crime to the police; a third think they would be treated worse by police if suspected of committing a crime, a figure which rises to 41% in London; and a quarter think they would be treated worse if they appeared before a judge for committing a criminal offence.

Pen Capital Queer column in peace, Tuesday afternoon, this week championing London’s very own, fledgling annual LGBT cultural festival, GFest (http://www.gaywisefestival.org.uk/). Like other British cities such as Manchester, Glasgow and Liverpool, London too can now boast its very own annual LGBT arts festival. GFest helps to promote the culture and identities of a community who account for up to a million of the city’s total population. The first GFest was held last November (2007), offering a unique artistic experience for all Londoners: an attempt to bring together LGBT cabaret, theatre, performance art, visual art and film - all under one umbrella. It was launched at City Hall by Sarah Weir, then-head of the Arts Council; Ben Summerskill, chief executive of Stonewall; and Rt. Hon. David Lammy, the Minister for Skills. This year’s festival, again scheduled for November, looks set to be even bigger and better - with an expanded programme of events from all aspects of the arts – and will open to submissions from potentially participating artists shortly.

Holy Sushi! Cool kimonos! Still have day-upon-day of blasted holiday to burn up so decide to head to Toyko for the rest of the week on Wednesday. Whilst emperors stayed out of the way in old capital Kyoto, their shoguns – military rulers who had the real power - made Tokyo (at that time “Edo”) their seat of government from around 1600 onwards, so placing it on the map, with a flowering of economy and culture. When American gunships arrived in the 1850s, forcing the opening of trade and commerce, the shoguns’ days were numbered and imperial power re-emerged, with the emperor relocating to newly-dubbed Tokyo in 1868, thereby making it capital. Partly fearful of falling behind the rest of the world, when Japan opened its doors, it quickly devoured Western culture and technology – stalled only by the great 1923 earthquake. But the country also became increasingly militarised and expansionist – making incursions into Asia and even taking on America and allies after Pearl Harbour in 1940. Defeat, post Midway and atomic bombs, left Japan humiliated and in ruins. Sovereignty was only handed back in 1952. After a boom in the 60s, 70s and 80s came the bust of the 90s which Japan is now pulling itself out of. Jap pop: 130 million. Greater Tokyo pop: now over 13 million. No visa needed for short stays by Brits. No jabs. Although Age of Consent is 13 under federal law, this is overridden, up to 18, by all local laws. Porn, whilst wild, contains no naked dicks! And “J-queers” can be rather reserved - so go get ‘em!

Tokyo is a city best “experienced”, so I troll the Imperial Palace East Garden; waft through the Shinjuku National Garden; discover bonsai and origami; mull Buddhist temples, notably Asakusa Kannon; reflect at major Shinto shrines, both Meiji and Yasukuni; sift Samurai from Ninja at the Sword Museum; absorb the War Museum, kamikaze and all; savour the glitzy Ginza district; undergo a traditional tea ceremony; down sushi ‘n sashimi at the fish market; sip sake while reading manga; see Kabuki, Noh and Geisha; sit through sumo; try karate and aikido; enjoy the view from up Tokyo Tower; croon in the birthplace of karaoke; go starkers in a bathhouse or onsen; ride the metro, spying besuited “salarymen”; try authentic local bad-boy bukake; visit nearby Kamakura, Hakone and Mount Fuji; plus even jump the bullet train to Osaka or Kyoto.

I also bask in… garish youth fashions; ubiquitous gadgets and electro-goods, from weird hand-held games to heated toilet seats; dazzling neon nights; etiquette, both greet ’n eat; Tokyo Disney; “capsule” hotels, plus ryokan (local B&Bs); baseball, golf and other US influences; no shoes in homes and some eateries; a culture of no tips; (very) late blossoms; UK-style left-hand drive – and (thankfully minor) earthquakes!

Tokyo gay bars tend to be numerous, yet small and niche - not all of them foreigner-friendly. Those that are are packed into the compact Shinjuku Ni-Chome sub-district. You soon master the local address system; and invariably end up at 24 Kaikan (2-13-1 Shinjuku Ni-Chome) – a gay sauna minus the sauna… instead, a vast number of dim dormitories where guys hang out, doze and fumble. Who needs privacy?

Another lecture from the Boss, at Monday morn mews meet: about me needing to do “far more work to promote Circa”. That evening, go out on recruitment drive with Nutty (who shuts his “hole” for the night), to a meeting of the Suit & Tie Society (http://www.suitandtie.org.uk/) - a long-established, London-based group “for gay men who are turned on by formal dress and those who simply wear it”, with monthly meets and other regular ad hoc soirees. Research suggests 70% of us have had an office fling, 10% have slept with the boss for promotion and 30% say they willingly would! From exec rivalry to workplace abuse; from stationary cupboard lock-ins to below-the-desk briefings; from kitchen kissy-kissy to photocopy fumbles - suits are part of many men’s work and sex lives. The suit represents power, money, status and success. It is, arguably, the ultimate uniform for men; and lends itself well to role-play because of office sub-dom hierarchy. Somewhat surprised to find Kev ‘n Karl at the do – shameless and seemingly fresh from their day at the mews!

Yet another of my increasing number of callers newly diagnosed with HIV, on Switchboard, Tuesday night – asking how to cope with the mental challenges facing someone living with HIV. Being told you have HIV has both immediate and longer term psychological consequences. The head is trying to accept and adjust to a new identity: of someone who is HIV positive. Top tips: Decide your policy for disclosure; negotiate safer sex; try to shrug off stigma; know your legal rights; and talk, talk, talk!

Invite Joshua ‘n Charlie round to dinner, Wednesday eve – Kev ‘n Karl being out at another suit and tie type event, I’d guess. Both seem a tad subdued – is Charlie’s promiscuous game up, I wonder? – and conversation more serious than per norm, tending to around politics. Draw inspiration for next Circa column in Capital Queer. Tories having taken 44% of the national vote in recent local council polls in England and Wales - not to mention Boris Johnson’s victory and the decisive result in Crewe - as a British LGBT person in 2008, should one be reassured, or alarmed, by the seeming national resurgence of the Conservative Party, I muse? Why shouldn’t it be natural in 2008 for a gay person to vote Tory, as many seem increasingly to do?

Meet people from PACE (http://www.pacehealth.org.uk/), London’s leading LGBT mental health charity, Thursday. Possible future fundraising tie-ins – plus of direct relevance to half my friends and associates, I think! In truth, one in four of the population experience mental distress. For LGBT people, the figure is even higher. PACE provides support to 1,200 people every year. LGBTs are faced with many mental health and emotional issues relating to their sexuality, such as the anxiety of “coming out”; or the stress of not being out and feeling isolated, depressed and lacking self-esteem. Despite positive recent changes in legislation, including the Equalities Act 2006 and civil partnerships, people still experience homophobia and/or discrimination when receiving services, within the family, at work or in wider society. Young LGBT people are often bullied at school with high dropout rates from education. Other marginalised LGBT sub-groups, such as LGBTs with disabilities or queers from ethnic minorities, often experience multiple prejudices: sometimes involving rejection from their own country or culture - or even discrimination from the LGBT community itself. Older LGBTs are often invisible and isolated. LGBT-specific mental health services such as PACE have been established because LGBT people have struggled to access, or found it hard to be “out” within, mainstream mental health services.

Fun informal Circa do, Friday night. Lots of celeb goss flying around, not least from our tabloid hack member. Apparently, we can all look forward to John Hurt soon reprising the small screen role of queer English eccentric, Quentin Crisp, in a new ITV1 drama being shot in London and New York this summer. An Englishman in New York picks up where the 1975 BAFTA-feted TV classic The Naked Civil Servant left off. Outspoken Crisp hits the Big Apple which embraces him… until he’s dropped for (shamefully) quipping that the escalating AIDS crisis is just “a fad”… before he is re-discovered by Sting who immortalises him in the song, An Englishman in New York. Nicole Kidman also looks set to play bisexual singing ‘60s icon Dusty Springfield in a forthcoming bio-pic.

Have such a good time, wake up rough, Saturday morn – far too rough to attend Dublin Pride as planned (Dublin not the most beautiful of cities anyway, muse I… very overrated in the aesthetic stakes); so delegate to Kev, instead, Karl duly in tow. Nice to have the place to myself for a change.

Amused over papers on Sunday. Dead iconic gay erotic artist Tom of Finland is more likely to conjure up the odour of sweat and other bodily fluids than the sweet smell of roses; but – it seems - the Foundation that manages the brand has just launched an eponymous new perfume that could soon grace your armpits… and other regions! Some nasal experts claim the new “con-cock-ion” features wafts of “crumpled leaf, suede, metal, pepperwood, iris, vetiver, tonka bean and musks”; others that it is designed to “smell like a guy coming out of a shower and putting on leather pants”. Plus: A US animation, described as “making South Park look like The Flumps” is apparently to air on E4 later in the year. Featuring hilarious homo duos - from twink plus sugar daddy to its eponymous “perfect pair”, Rick and Steve - The Happiest Gay Couple in the World presents lego-like characters including baby-obsessed lesbians, three-in-a-bed predators and teeny queens who come out with immortal lines like, “Some people don’t give me enough credit for how smart I … Oh-my-god! I loooove this song!”

Uncharacteristically late for Monday morn mews meet. Watching opening matches of Queen’s, am also amused to read that Britain’s Andy Murray may have already won the most significant singles title of his career to date: adjudged ace of hearts by a quarter (24%) of unattached gay UK men, in a shock tennis poll. The plucky, wiry Scot dominates the queer court, ahead of Australian wildcard Mark Philippoussis (20%), and outstripping more “senior seeded” American Andy Roddick (18%), Swiss Roger Federer (18%) and Spanish Rafael Nadal (14%) – leaving Russian Marat Safin (6%) with feet of gay clay, struggling to cut it on the gay grass. Perhaps he will now follow-through and serve up some true British grit and Scottish spunk at imminent Wimbledon! Timely, during National Men’s Health Week, I seem to get loads of calls on Switchboard relating to medical conditions that may especially concern some gay men. First off, the Boy again: slurs, as ever, finds it easier to talk to me like this than over a pint. Studies suggest that overall alcohol and drug (non-nicotine) use is 2 - 4 times higher in the LGBT community than the national average, and that between 1 in 5 and 1 in 3 of all gay people actually suffer from some kind of alcohol or drug addiction - compared to 1 in 10 of heterosexuals. And, as for smoking and nicotine intake amongst gay men: that’s another woeful story in itself!

Enjoy penning Capital Queer column, Tuesday afternoon… this week, responding to findings that over twice as many gay UK men claim to be predominantly “passive” (bottom, 30%), rather than predominantly “active” (top, 14%), when in a physical relationship - with most gay men still deeming themselves either versatile (36%) or rejecting such categories (20%) altogether. Suspect any such findings are highly culturally relative though – since other data suggests that black gay men are more likely to say (or at least feel the need to say) they are top; ditto large-built men… contrasting with the fact I’ve met quite a few large or hunky guys who’d like nothing more than to be screwed themselves, but rarely get the offers. Call on Switchboard from a young guy anxious he may have testicular cancer. Although the most common cancer amongst men aged 20–35, the average lifetime risk of developing the disease is still only 1 in 400. Key symptoms to watch out for are a lump in, or any enlargement of, either testicle; a feeling of heaviness, or a sudden collection of fluid, in the scrotum; a dull ache in the groin or abdomen; or enlargement or tenderness of the male breasts. The condition may not cause any discomfort at all, especially in its early stages. And any of these symptoms can have completely benign (non-cancerous) causes. But they should always be checked-out by a doctor, nevertheless. As some of these symptoms aren’t always obvious, it’s important to check your own balls regularly – often best done when they are relaxed, after a nice hot bath.

Switchboard call on Wednesday, from a guy anxious about possible prostate cancer - the enlargement of the prostate gland caused by a tumour which, left untreated, may spread to other parts of the body. The condition often lacks symptoms in its early stages. If a tumour starts to press on the urethra it may cause urinary problems such as difficulty in pissing; pissing more frequently, especially at night; pain on pissing; or blood-in-the-piss. Cancerous prostate cells may eventually break away to form new tumours elsewhere in the body - in which event, symptoms could include weight loss; or pain in the bones of the pelvis, legs or lower back. Though rare in men under 45, risk of occurrence increases with age. Nearly three quarters of men in their 80s have small specks of prostate cancer, but only a few of these will develop any symptoms at all. Certain genes may make you more susceptible: your risk is greater if you’ve a dad or brother with prostate cancer - particularly if they developed the condition at an early age. Many experts think some men may be able to minimise the risk of developing cancer of the prostate if they cut down on red meat, animal fats and milk and dairy products; and eat more fruit ‘n veg. See a doctor if you think you may have any symptoms; even if - following tests - their cause turns out to be completely benign.

Call from someone, voice sounds familiar but can’t quite place – possibly a Circa member having problem with his own little “member” - on Thursday stint. Sexual problems range from loss of sexual desire, to premature or retarded ejaculation – as well as persistent erectile dysfunction, a.k.a. “ED” or impotence. Impotence is the persistent or recurrent inability to achieve or maintain an erection good enough to complete your desired sexual activity satisfactorily - albeit wanking, oral sex, intercourse or whatever. The occasional inability to achieve a satisfactory hard-on doesn’t normally represent a problem. Most guys will experience this every so often! This could be due to stress, exhaustion, too much booze or simply not fancying the person you somehow end up in bed with! Persistent erectile dysfunction (ED) is estimated to affect about 1 in 10 men at any one time. Although age itself isn’t a cause, risks nevertheless increases as you get older. ED has two main kinds of cause: physical (eg diabetes; furred or damaged blood vessels in the penis; regular smoking or heavy drinking; side-effects of some medications etc) and psychological (eg stress; depression; sexual boredom or confusion; strained relationships etc). Most doctors agree that most cases are physical but it’s also evident that many men with ED soon start to feel anxious, stressed or depressed too. These feelings can obviously easily make the symptoms of ED even worse. Note: If you can get an erection sometimes, but not others, then it’s a good bet that your ED has psychological causes. And vice versa. See a doctor as soon as you notice any problem. Don’t blame yourself - or others… it’s a health problem, not a reflection of your manhood or relationships. A wide variety of effective treatments are now available.

Starting to feel like a doctor. Another, wildcard call on Friday. Blatantly muffled voice strangely reminiscent of Inge’s. Maybe picked something up in his new “profession”, think I? From chlamydia and syphilis, through genital herpes and warts, to gonorrhoea (”the clap”) and non-specific urethral infections, not the mention HIV: sexually transmitted infections (STIs) are very common and can affect anyone who’s sexually active. And you don’t need to have sex with loads of guys to be at risk of catching them, although that “helps” – just one brief encounter can suffice! Infections can be transmitted in various ways - through oral, anal or vaginal sex, or via skin-to-skin contact. Not every infection is passed on in all these ways – HIV (the virus that causes AIDS) cannot be passed on through skin-to-skin contact, for instance. Some of the more common symptoms to watch out for include a yellow discharge from, or irritation within, your dick; inflammation of your balls; or pain-when-pissing. If you have any of these problems, or any other suspicious symptoms, your best bet is to get them checked out by a doctor at a specialist genito-urinary (GUM) clinic, which offer a totally confidential service. The best ways to avoid getting an STI are to be celibate - not a viable or desirable option for most men; or to practice safer sex - meaning always using a condom for any kind of penetrative sex. In any event, all sexually active people should get regular check-ups, not least since not all STIs produce symptoms; and since, thankfully, most STIs can be easily treated.

Have relaxing weekend in for a change, after all my late nights on Switchboard. Phone off hook. Just Mous and Cous and a good mag plus book. Amused to read that Naturist Swim - a weekly group of gay naturist swimmers in Manchester – has whipped up a storm amongst regular swimmers who are forced to use another pool in the same sports centre when they meet; even reportedly prompting several parents to withdraw their doubtless buoyant progeny from lessons there - on supposed grounds of… hygiene! And don’t you just love 1 in 8 of Italian Scouts: for apparently saying, in a recent poll, that they would consider a same-sex experience - 4 in 5 adding that they would be very happy to get drunk!

Tabloid columnist member on rare form at informal Circa do at the judge’s in Hampstead, Monday eve. Says England and Chelsea midfielder Joe Cole shouldn’t be too downhearted at missing out on the UK and Euro Champions League titles, since the stocky skin-head ball-kicker has won the hearts of over a quarter (26%) of single gay UK men in a shock poll – thereby seemingly displacing former queer icon, David Beckham. Another member chips in, on a more serious note, to promote “Justin” - a new campaign against homophobia in football, aiming to “vindicate the memory of Justin Fashanu”, the world’s first openly gay professional footballer, who took his own life ten years ago. The initiative hopes to get the FA to observe Sat 2 May 2009 as the first Justin Fashanu Day, an annual event on which all pro players wear black armbands and observe a minute’s silence before matches. A tall order, mefears! Also overhear tad worrying news that Pride London (Sat 5 July, http://www.pridelondon.org/) - the UK’s largest LGBT Pride, which we’ve heard relatively little of this year, and now scarce a month away - claims it costs around £400k a year to keep the event free, mainly from sponsorship and grants… and will soon be passing around an “online begging bowl”!

Treat mum to another lunch, Tuesday – up for the day from Essex. Located in the Philbeach Hotel in Earl’s Court, The Princess Thai restaurant boasts an exotic ambiance plus an extensive menu of authentic Thai cuisine, with all dishes prepared by Thai chefs using traditional herbs and spice. Our host, Jeed, is London’s first “Thai lady-boy restaurant owner” and immediately puts my initially pensive mum at ease as we relax in the beautiful patio garden with water fountain, tropical plants, palm trees, roses and hanging vines. Finding it hard to discuss my sister’s latest “developments”, mum instead broaches the thorny, embarrassing subject of why I never seem to have a boyfriend… “you are gay, aren’t you?” she reasons. By pure coincidence, am rather thrown to be asked my advice on relationships at Switchboard in the evening. Some guy says he’s just got his first serious boyfriend and they seem to lack a “gay role-model romance” to follow. Assure them that’s probably normal amongst queers, so they should be content to “do it their own way”.

Pen weekly Capital Queer column, Wednesday morn. A new campaign ( http://www.ditchthelabel.com/) aims to change the ways in which young people, especially, label themselves - suggesting they define themselves more as individuals and personalities, rather than in terms of stereotypes associated with categories such as sexuality. Is it indeed about time we all stopped overly-labelling ourselves as LGBTs, I muse? Or would this in fact be – as I suspect – somewhat of a cop-out; and a tad premature?

Muster up energy to do a spot of PR for Circa, Thursday night I! Attend some function connected with the InterLaw Forum - established so LGBTs working in the London legal sector can work together to enhance equality and diversity. Quite a few dull suits, as you might expect, yet still a fair few grains of sweet wheat amongst the gay chaff – some of whom frankly look so young they barely look legal at all!

Invite some of the cutest legal minds along to the fab monthly Circa bash at The Arts Club in Mayfair, Friday night. The Drawing Room and Dover Bar brimming with light summer suits and stylish slacks. Get so sloshed at the bar, can only just focus on some of the exhibits in the “Private View of Nude Male Sculptures and Drawings” exhibition - where “a wide range of techniques and a variety of tonal approaches” are frankly rather lost on me as I instead become increasingly horny. Sneak off for a light supper with one of my young legal finds, a fine young Welshman, at The Arts Club Bistro where the oyster, fig and avocado salad do little to decrease my libido.

Persuade Kev to sub for me, Saturday, at either Plymouth or South Yorkshire (Sheffield) Pride – think he opted for the former, aroused by the notion of seamen – and instead accompany my cute new lawful acquaintance to his home town, the Welsh capital, for the weekend. Dream of yummy lads in scrums; or strapping miner boys sluicing off their soot? Cardiff is indeed one of Europe’s youngest capitals – yet also boasts gloriously horny, luscious, lilting stunners with dark hair and eyes, high cheekbones and strong jaws to die upon. In fact, is so much talent wondering around, struggle to give legal lover-boy my undivided attentions, as we tour behind the rugger-lad-teaming scenes at the vast Millennium Stadium by the River Taff; and student-thronged Cardiff University campus; and cruisy Castle Park. Manage to loose him in the Locker Room steamer, eventually. Haven’t set eyes on him since.

Birman-flanked Boss ebullient at Monday morn mews meet, chivvying Karl ‘n Kev from task to task ‘round the office - like a cat out of hell badgering a coupe of startled sheep. Circa membership now up to a dizzying 40,000; attendance at monthly socials at an all-time high – doubtless wooed by real-life naked models in drawing classes, plus sculpture shows of the “nude male form”; and new gay job service breaking all known bounds with over 10,000 job posted from gay friendly recruiters.

Exhausted as break away pre-noon to grab a light Soho lunch and pen my regular Circa-branded Capital Queer column. This week - with controversy still raging over whether gay media and retailers should promote and sell bareback porn – I discusses the broader impact of gay business values on our community’s sexual health and wider wellbeing. Of course, it’s not just porn where the commercial interests of gay business may conflict with the health interests of gay men. For many years bars have been at the heart of the gay scene and this may be linked to gay men’s increased likelihood of alcohol-related problems. Many gay clubs implicitly condone drug-taking. In saunas and backrooms men will have sex with other men, and not all of that sex will be protected. Plus, arguably, gay media perpetuate an impossible ideal of slim, youthful, sexually-driven gay men. There are few images in the gay press which value the older or larger queer. What with our charity work, thank God at least Circa’s got its gay house in order, muse I.

Amused reading magazines over coffee at breakfast, Tuesday morn. A major UK gay retailer has apparently made what it calls an “extraordinary decision” to start stocking baby clothes in one of its flagship stores. Apparently, “funky and fashionable designs” for the ever-burgeoning number of proud LGBT parents’ nippers will “sit side by side with the same underwear that adorns the gym-toned bodies of the bars and clubs of Soho” – as well as, one assumes, more “adult” fayre. Quipped a spokesman, seemingly with no sense of irony: “I am delighted that our stores are recognising there is more to a gay lifestyle than the usual stereotypes.” Gucci, Gucci, Gucci darling! Call from Nutty Neighbour in the evening. Swears – on a rare night off from his “hole”, where incidentally he vows he’s “had” our Circa judge – he spied both Inge and Boy trolling for “business” on “the Common” last night. Says would have said “hi” to both, were it not for fact that – as he got up from doing something (the mind boggles) – found he’d kneeled in something left by a dog.

Full day with little Toby, Wednesday. As ever, nipper’s all stirred up by his mum Sue before and during the hand-over and her oh-so-long goodbye – yet mercifully smiling almost before she’s out of sight. Not sure how it’ll all pan out. Ironic that I crave to see more of Toby, but can’t; whilst Inge has his not-so-little Sven on a plate, but seemingly buggers off on a bender binge, leaving poor Em alone. Fraught call from positive man during Switchboard stint in the eve – anxious someone he’s slept, with who subsequently contracted HIV and blames him, might even prosecute for “reckless transmission”, however unintentional. Tend to follow Terrence Higgins Trust’s line on this, supporting prosecutions for intentional transmission, whilst remaining opposed to prosecuting reckless transmission since this harms rather than helps public health goals which require all individuals to take responsibility for their own health. For more, visit www.tht.org.uk/prosecutions. Anyone concerned about a possible prosecution is advised to call THT Direct on 0845 1221 200.

Lunch with born-again dyke sister, Kerry, Thursday – at Coffee, Cake and Kink (http://www.coffeecakeandkink.com/) in Covent Garden: apparently her “favourite haunt”. Though not specifically gay, the “only kinky café gallery in the UK” brims with generally erotic books, prints, art, cards and “quality kink”, with almost everything you see for sale - with the possible exception of some of the staff. Claim its fetish fan creators: “It came out of our frustration with the lack of a stylish, upbeat space where we could enjoy three things we like most in life - coffee, cake and kink!” A true one-off, worth at least one quick saucy dip! Sis buys up half the stuff on show – on grounds she’s already working on her new lesbian mag’s Xmas “gift issue”.

Meet debauched Boy Friday eve, at Half Way to Heaven pub at Charing Cross – ‘though he looks more like he’s half way to hell when I see him… eye’s red, hair a mess, breath like a brewery. Dedicated to the joys of karaoke, cheap booze and cheesy pop-on-a-loop, this friendly, lively bar-and-basement joint is scarce a spit-and-a-spunk from its far more famous semi-namesake nightclub nearby; and attracts the full gay gamut - from hen parties to teenie twinks plus the odd drunk drag. Steadfastly refuses to “go all swish”. Any attitude best left at the door! Still: surprised they let the Boy in. Denies is on the game, to feed his drink and drug needs. Think back to how shiny, fresh and eponymously boyish he used to be in his straight old days, living with the Girl Next Door.

Meet not dissimilarly dilapidated Inge, Saturday night at the Black Cap. The legendary venue, in the centre of vibrant Camden Town, sprawling across no less than three floors, is especially renowned for its entertainment – notably top DJ’s and well-nigh world-class drag acts. But now show on Earth can distract one from the heights from which this once mighty gay giant has fallen – clutching at drink after drink desperately, with his still-manly grasp, as he repeatedly nips outside to smoke fag after fag. Why is it that so many outwardly fit gay men have massive “inner issues”, drink like fish and smoke like chimneys?

Despite my constant calls and his promises the night before, Inge can’t make it out of bed Sunday morning, let alone around the new, improved 10k Crusaid Walk for Life route. Europe’s largest fundraising walk for HIV supports poor, marginalised people affected by HIV and AIDS in the UK and Africa. It kicks off at Potters Fields Park, on the southern side of the Thames near City Hall; and snakes through London, taking in landmarks including Tower Bridge, St Paul’s, the Old Bailey, Covent Garden, the London Eye and Millennium Bridge. Surprisingly fun, actually. Even enjoy some banter with 4 Poofs and a Piano who I usually find so irritating on TV. Crusaid has helped 1 in 3 people living with HIV and AIDS in the UK; and demands on its support continue to increase each year. The walk has raised more than £3 million over the last decade.

Exhausted by sheer energy on display at Monday morn mews meet – abiding impression is of a frenzy of faxes and fur – slump with Mous ‘n Cous once safe back home, feeling vaguely depressed as scan newspapers. A mad world. Some backward hate-filled ultra-Orthodox neo-fascist Jew in Israel has suggested the way to stop recent tremors that shook parts of the region is for the Israeli parliament to reverse its pro-gay laws; a 24-year old policeman in hiding in Jamaica, is seeking asylum in Canada, after allegedly being abused and attacked by fellow coppers due to his sexuality - claiming thirteen of his gay friends have died there in the past four years; and a gay crackdown is apparently underway in Bahrain, including tougher immigration checks to stop foreign gays entering the country, and deportation of foreigners found to be gay - all in response to what local MPs see as their country’s “growing gay problem” from overseas, denying the existence of any indigenous gay Bahrainis themselves.

Funny how and where I draw inspiration for my Capital Queer columns these days. Out Tuesday, trolling about in Brixton of all places, when spy one of the mercifully small number of vandelised Stonewall billboards – such posters have been running across Britain bearing the inspirationally simple “Some people are gay, get over it” message. The defaced advert, daubed with the homophobic rap lyric “Boom Bye Bye” – just the kind of lyric that Stonewall has been lobbying to be outlawed in the Criminal Justice Bill - directly quotes Buju Banton’s single called Boom Bye Bye which explicitly incites the killing of gay people. A stark reminder that homophobia still exists in our society and of the need to address the issue: both in schools, where this Stonewall campaign started, and – as we can here so clearly see – out in our wider communities.

More inspiration, Wednesday, when take spot of (deliberately light) lunch at a famous gay London eatery. Established in 1986, First Out is, was and ever shall be central London’s first ever LGBT café-bar: scene of countless comings-out and many a first foray onto the scene; and much-loved for its friendly blend of café life and relaxed bar atmosphere in the heart of the West End. Its innovative “international vegetarian” menu offers a wide range of healthy, tasty, albeit frequently windy, meals at genuinely low prices – topped off by a fine range of gateaux, pastries and excellent organic fair-trade coffee. Art exhibitions, great music and an enticing range of cocktails, beers, wines and spirits in the bar all help create the perfect setting for meeting friends, old and new. And, all so inexpensive, you can afford to come again - and again! Quite an institution!
Day off, Thursday – still working though loads of excess holiday, quite a bore frankly. Find myself, as frequently do on such loose-end occasions, simply wafting through Soho – in the end, enjoying a good olde-fashioned traditional pub crawl! Ever find yourself propping up yet another gay-chic neon-glow metallic wipe-down bar, with a queer-queasy feeling they simply sluice around with a quick hose, come closing? A welcome change then, a few of these more traditional, soulful homo-hostelries – albeit now mercifully minus the smoke! After more than 20 years, the institution that is Compton’s is now almost synonymous with gay Soho. This large, traditional two-story pub is one of the few homo-haunts in town to sell real ale, in its lower bar. The varied clientele ranges from City suits to youthful clubbers but undoubtedly majors on bears and skins. It indeed has a reputation for being fairly cruisy; and is so packed I soon find myself rubbing up against someone – or, to be precise, something! Then round the corner to the Duke of Wellington. This hugely popular corner “local” is warm and welcoming downstairs, chic and chilled upstairs. Loyal punters slur there’s something especially friendly about “The Duke”; and it’s certainly a pleasant relief to be able to hold a civil conversation without having to shout over some neurotically overloud music! And finally, the King’s Arms, on Poland Street. A short stroll, yet seemingly a million miles away, from much of the madding Soho crowd, this predominantly biker and bear’s den boasts a great beer selection and is used as a homo-hub by many an LGBT social club, whose interests range from real ale to sci-fi. Couldn’t be less “Soho chic” if it tried!

Wake with dreadful hangover, Friday morn. Keen to escape town, head off for short weekend break in Vilnius, cracker of a capital of 4-million strong Lithuania; also the largest Baroque city north of the Alps. Its Old Town is situated in a picturesque valley of two rivers and was declared a World Heritage Site by UNESCO in 1994. The castle on the hill, easily reached by funicular, offers an excellent vantage point of the whole city from which to gain one’s bearings; as does the Hill of the Three Crosses, just across the tiny-yet-attractive Vilnia River. Especially enjoy the gruesome KGB Museum - site of a former interrogation and execution centre, complete with padded cell, water torture chambers and bullet holes! Gay life revolves around Men’s Factory, Vilnius’ main gay club with all-round penis theme, sailor-clad staff, wrought iron cobwebs, plus lots of dark spaces and gorgeous Baltic boys!

Putting in my first appearance in a few weeks, Circa mews hive of activity Monday morn – over-combed fur floating and swirling like a blizzard through the sunlit Chelsea space, Birmans scurrying and Kev ‘n Karl to-ing and fro-ing like a couple of eunuchs or geisha girls, responding to every quirky whim and brashly barked-out order from Boss’ leather swivel, issued in a steady stream of stormy squalls. Entire office reminiscent of a trading floor or labour exchange - as new Recruiters register by the second on Circa’s new Job Search tool – over 9,000 jobs now posted by over 200 Recruiters. Amazed something so supposedly automated can engender such manic maelstrom.

Call Em, early Tuesday eve (hear not-so-little Sven “Thunder Clapper” in background) to ask after mighty Inge “Thor”, not having seen him at the gym of late. Reading between lines, seems he may have – as feared – compromised his position in the steam room and, like Karl, fallen from grace. Call mobile to find him drowning sorrows, propping self up at – of all places – the infamous Coleherne pub on Brompton Road in Earl’s Court. One-time stalking grounds for three serial killers - Dennis Nilsen, Michael Lupo and Colin Ireland – on arrival, hardly recognize the place from my last visit in the late 80s. Less spit-and-sawdust S&M; more sherry ‘n quiz! Suspect Inge - be-leathered and looking all the world like one of those Tom of Finland cartoons – now, like Boy at the Quebec, open to “generous offers”, not least to feed his ever-growing Sven.

Balans Soho lunch with Nutty on Old Compton Street, Wednesday. Love this chain of a lively, informal and successful modern “New York”-style London neighbourhood brasseries - open seven days a week, serving food and drink from early morn ‘til late at night. Is great to preen and be seen behind – or, in summer, in front of – this Soho joint’s large glass frontage, slap-bang on the queer capital’s main men’s thoroughfare! Equally enjoy the light and airy ambience of Balans West, in Earl’s Court, not least in the conservatory out the back; or putting my feet up after a hefty bout of shopping at Balans Kensington, right on Kensington High Street; or sampling “Chiswick chic” at the Balans outpost out there. Nutty raving about a new Getting a Boyfriend course he’s recently been on, run by gay men’s health charity GMFA, designed to “help gay males approach relationships with a new self-understanding” - giving a “greater insight into whether you’re ready for one, what you’re looking for, and the processes involved in searching for a partner and establishing a (safer-sex) relationship”. Gazing at Nutty downing his mouse, blabbering on and on: fat chance, think I.

Ma up for day from Essex, Thursday. Treat us both to lunch at Lobster Pot in Kennington. One of the gayest finds in town. You step in off a grimy Lambeth street to a marine experience - and I mean full-on Jean-Paul Gautier, “Hello sailor”! With fish swimming around in port-holes and loos echoing to the sound of seagulls, we’re two of scarce a dozen or so guests served up fresh fish, in or out of shell, in this snug culinary cabin. Over the course of our meal, we’re transported to Brittany via the passionately-prepared food and utterly unique ambience!  Amazingly, only 10 minutes from the City; and – it seems - you don’t need a passport to cross the river any more! My waistline, Christ! “It’s still dripping off me”, relates caller on Switchboard in the eve, after seen mum off. Poor guy’d just been spat at whilst out walking with his boyfriend. Suggest he report incident to police – maybe they can do a DNA swab on the still-fresh phlegm? Not uncommon occurrence, muse I. 3 in 5 gay UK men say they will only hold hands with a partner in gay districts or at gay venues or events, according to some recent survey. Only 1 in 6 think they hold hands with partners in public on a par with most straight couples. 1 in 7 claim they would only so do on a deserted beach!

Fab, fun informal Circa do at our tabloid columnist member’s raucous Richmond pad, Friday night. Ever the centre of attention, he really holds court on home turf, as gay goss flows. Seems Shadow minister, Alan Duncan, will form a civil partnership with his other half, 39-year old City press officer James Dunseath, in the summer - thereby becoming the first Tory MP to so do – and attracting wild rumours that Mr. Duncan’s old chum, one Mrs. T, might even attend the ceremony! And apparently David Cameron’s wife may deserve some credit for allegedly changing the Tory leader’s mind over Section 28 – or so says, Nick Boles, a prospective gay Tory parliamentary candidate and “close friend” of the couple, recently interviewed in a BBC Radio 4 documentary exploring the political influences on the former Etonian and royal relative.

Enjoy having flat to self Saturday, Kev having been posted up north for Blackpool Pride - hoards of queers on the pier - one assumes his besotted Karl very much in tow! In the eve, treat Joshua and Charlie to dinner at Bistrotheque - a spacious, distinctively white-tiled warehousey backstreet dining room in the East End; always buzzy, attracting a trendy crowd from the studios and galleries around. Seems Josh none the wiser about Charlie’s dealings with jilting Judge. Won’t be the last such episode, think I. Can a leopard change its spots?

Realise just how incredibly large I’m getting, when catch fleeting glance of towel-wrapped self – can that really be me? – in a mirror, soon after arrival at a “gay men’s health complex” in Vauxhall, on a typically heaving Sunday afternoon. After half an hour of not just no-interest, but blatant repulsive aggression, quickly cover self back up and quietly leave. Am, however, pleased to spy sticker indicating the joint’s signed up to THT’s new Play Zone scheme – no, not some under-5s lunchtime club, rather a new voluntary code of good practice for gay saunas and other male-sex-based venues in London and Brighton, aiming to create “a safer environment for customers and staff by ensuring that sexual health, hygiene and health and safety standards are being met”.

No Monday mews meet since a Bank Hol – will start to lose touch if don’t put in a show soon – tho’ Boss does drag seemingly long-term lodgers Kev ‘n Karl in for a couple of hours, to deal with “major rush” due to popularity of Circa’s new Job Search database and application tool, which matches gay-friendly employers with gay professional talent! Informal Circa supper at Langtry’s at the Cadogan Hotel off Sloane Street in the eve – a place that truly weaves contemporary dining with classic Edwardian decadence; a place where history definitely comes alive. Consider Room 118, scene of the arrest of Oscar Wilde! Or the Edward VII Suite, renamed to celebrate the future King of England’s liaisons there with his close friend - the actress, eponymous Lillie Langtry! Fun had by all as we sit beneath striking original glass chandeliers and intricate ceiling designs, sipping brandy over bridge in front of the Carrera-marble Louis XIV fireplace, supported by the soft velvet of the warm, round medallion armchairs, intoxicated amidst the rich, elegant, yet strangely informal, atmosphere. A treat!

Loose it with Karl ‘n Kev, Tuesday evening. Trying to surf for a man online when all I can hear is them bonking away in Kev’s bedroom! After a short screaming fit, storm out to drown sorrows and try pot luck at the Admiral Duncan boozer, just round the corner on Old Compton Street. Named after Admiral Adam Duncan, who defeated the Dutch fleet at Camperdown in 1797, the pub was itself, shockingly, the scene of a bloody attack when Neo-Nazi David Copeland detonated a nail bomb here in 1999, killing three and maiming and wounding scores more. This brutal and tragic event is commemorated with an amazing, moving and unmissable lights fixture overhead. “The Duncan” also made headlines in 2005, when Westminster City Council decreed that, along with all other LGBT bars and businesses in the area, the venue should remove its exterior rainbow flags - deemed “advertising”, forbidden by planning laws. Following a campaign, the Council eventually made a massive U-turn. A vibrant and friendly gay community joint with more than its fare share of history! Thought had a young(ish) fellow half-interested - before he slumped forward, unconscious, after I’d bought him his tenth pint of the night.

Wracked with guilt for snapping yesterday, treat Karl and Kev out for a meal, Wednesday eve – something they’ve never done for me, I still can’t help begrudgingly thinking. Cab it over to Les Trois Garcons, an old East End pub originally bought as a private house by three gay guys in a relationship (hence the name) – who meticulously restored and filled it with their sumptuous collection of treasures. Think Baroque courtesan’s parlour meets Parisian antique market: stuffed monkeys, tigers, swans and giraffes swathed in necklaces; gigantic wine glasses filled with bejewelled fruit, beneath dazzling chandeliers. Amazing OTT décor at this kitsch gay-run gem. Not cheap, but worth it. All this recent eating and drinking, though: my God I’m filling out. Undo trouser buttons right down to the flies.

After quick bout in gym, Thursday morn – can hardly do 50 metres on the running machine, and still no sign of Inge – realize am sorely missing some nice sun, so jet back to almost where I was a fortnight ago: this time to gay, gay, gayest of the Canaries, Gran Canaria, for a long weekend – just in time for its gay Pride! A little bit of Spain off the coast of Africa, Gran Canaria is a “mini continent” in its own right, boasting cliffs, dunes, mountains, valleys and lush forests. Third largest of the archipelago, it also claims quaint villages, historic towns, fine resorts, glorious year-round weather and – famously - hoards of queers, mainly German and English, constantly and habitually flocking and migrating to its sunny southern shores, notably to Playa del Ingles and adjoining, tad classier, Maspalomas.

Spend most of time lolling around the pool at the Palm Beach Hotel – a luxuriously revamped 70s retro-chic 5* gem set amidst palm-shaded pools and gardens, with regular poolside barbecues, bars and terraces; plus gym, sports, spa and naturist sauna ‘n steam zone – all next to the sultry Sand Dunes of Maspalomas; and conveniently close to the Playa del Ingles, Yumbo Centre and more common queer vibe.

Of course, there are many other attractions on this well-nigh circular, once volcanic isle. I stroll naked through some of the hectare upon homo hectare of Las Dunas (Saharan sand dunes) of Maspalomas - a designated national park on the Atlantic’s edge, segueing into Playa del Ingles. Apart from notoriously attracting gay males of the human species, the dunes are also home to many rare birds, including the ringed plover, Argentinean parrot and wild hoopee! I take a hire car through the island’s spectacular Central Highlands, peaking at a giddy 2000m, with rock formations including “King Kong” and “The Monk”. I explore island capital, Las Palmas, on the north-eastern tip - to shop in designer boutiques; sip in gay bars around Parque Santa Catalina; and gorge on authentic local tapas overlooking the sea and fine beach at tasty La Marinera. Columbus stopped off here en route to reaching the New World, presenting his creds at what is now a fascinating museum. Tenor Alfredo Kraus was born here; and Agatha Christie wrote The Mystery of the Blue Train whilst here in the 20s!

I troll the dozens of gay bars, clubs, saunas, shops and eateries in Playa del Ingles: mainly in the central Yumbo Centre, flitting from joint to joint - bumping into numerous familiar, albeit tad-tanned, faces from local scenes back home! After kicking back a few beers at friendly German-owned bar-with-terrace, Adonis, on the ground floor, I then scour Heaven upstairs - run by the same owners as the world-famous London club – not least its busy darkroom, marred only by some guy who’d clearly recently chucked-up.

Well I’ll be rugger-buggered! Land back just in time on Sunday to enjoy Kings Cross Steelers’ new monthly club night for “rugby boys and their followers”, held every second Sunday, at the Two Brewers in Clapham, South London. Heaving! Quite a tight scrum!

Too relaxed post-Lanzarote to face Monday morn mews meet so, as per last week, use excuse I needs-must finish off my weekly Circa-branded Capital Queer column, deadline looming – not far from true. This week I ask: Despite consumer demand, should the UK porn industry voluntarily stop producing, distributing and/or retailing bareback (unprotected sex) porn - to help safeguard the health, both of models involved and, arguably, of the wider public? Indeed, should there be a legal ban? Newsnight recently ran a report about porn models who apparently became infected with HIV whilst performing bareback. Millivres Prowler Group - the UK’s largest gay publisher and retailer – told the BBC that it will continue to sell bareback titles, estimated to make up 60% of gay UK porn sales. I suspect that, unless banned, so long as there continues to be a demand for the stuff, there will continue to be companies that produce it. If gay men don’t want porn stars to risk their health, they should vote with their cash and stop buying it!

Dinner with long-absent sis Kerrie, Tuesday eve… she, well-nigh back from dead! Last time heard, was in an alcohol-induced stupor. Now, there she sits, stone cold sober, ostentatiously sipping “organic mineral water” – whatever that is! We’re supping in Steph’s, an authentic Soho experience on Dean Street for the last two decades, overseen by pink flamingo murals and eponymous owner-managerial matriarch “Steph” knocking back shorts, as her bangles jangle, holding court with a queer coterie eating “British nosh with a twist” - like traditional fish and chips served in real newspaper; or the gay grubbery’s semi-signature char-grilled SPAM® - all served up by happy dishy waiters, high on a flamboyant, sparkling and unforgettable ambience. Tho’ even I don’t believe in “queer cuisine”, I do love a humungous homo-helping and pink portion of chic-cum-camp aura and service – plus the odd cute waiter and fellow-fag diner thrown in on the side! In a sharp dress suit and power-specs, Kerrie’s turned quite the business woman - setting up her own dyke mag, currently working on a “lesbian health supplement” (the mind boggles), apparently covering what to do and how to do it, safer sex and female sex toys. Also claims to be writing a book about Simone de Beauvoir (1908-1986) and her contribution to feminism and sexual liberation - to mark this, the centenary year of her birth. The author, philosopher and lifelong lover of French thinker Jean Paul Sartre shocked early 20^th Century Parisian society with her regular three-in-a-beds and flings with the ladies!

Summoned in for an extra Switchboard stint, Wednesday eve – “overwhelmed” with referrals from Stonewall’s new “info hotline” apparently. The gay mega-charity has launched a new freephone number - 08000 50 20 20 - supported by the National Lottery, offering information and referrals on a wide range of topics including hate crime, parenting and discrimination in the provision of goods and services. “He keeps telling me to come home so he can kill me,” bemoans caller, about three in. Transsexual Iranian asylum seeker Alicia - formerly Ali – claims to have endured death-threats from her father back home, before the operation to become a woman: a procedure she says she would never have had if she did not live in Iran, where homosexual relations are banned but sex-change surgery allowed – thereby leaving many actually-gay, non-trans men feeling little option but to go under the knife!

Prompted by conscientious Kev, pop down local polling booth to cast vote re London Mayor, Thursday (1 May) afternoon. Had heard all the leading candidates - Ken Livingstone (Labour), Boris Johnson (Tory), Brian Paddick (Lib Dem) and Sian Berry (Green) - at a “homo hustings”, organised by Stonewall last month. All had their strengths and weaknesses, and not just on gay issues. Lib Dem Paddick, is now doubtless better-known than Er-Wots-His-Name, the new Lib Dem leader; and has defo punched well above his gay weight against main rivals Ken and Boris - aided by the spectacularly pre-planned timing of his much-leaked auto-biog, Line of Fire, now out. In it, he spills his gay beans about early stirrings in the cub scouts, old “Monday nights at the Hippodrome”, coming out to his wife after they’d watched the film My Beautiful Launderette and allegedly being left beaten-up in a gutter by a former male lover. The one-time high-ranking copper was also recently found courting The Sun, telling of his seeming enjoyment of its topless women, who “show you don’t need to be stick-thin to be attractive”!

Meet the Boy at famous old Quebec pub in Marble Arch, Friday eve, him having called me, pissed, on Switchboard – as is his wont – to suggest we hook up, earlier in the week. The oldest gay bar in London, the Quebec opened in 1946, and remains a popular place for men of all ages, not least oldies. A vibrant programme of karaoke, cabaret and special events all week round, small wonder it’s still going strong! Located near Marble Arch at the top end of Oxford Street, when so many pubs have gone all neon-‘n-chrome, queer Quebec is a relative rarity: a traditional British boozer which is warm, welcoming and offers two recently refurbished floors. Also has something of a reputation for being a place where “older meet younger” for “mutual benefit”. Seems to now be Boy’s regular haunt, doubtless on hunt for replacements for that jilting Judge.

Quick gym steam, Saturday morn – strangely, no sign of friend-cum-trainer Inge amidst the swirls – before taking little Toby for a Mayday mayhem shopping treat around Knightsbridge, having some spare cash to burn following my recent Circa rise. The little squeezy urges me to buy up half Harrods’ toy department, shortly before we’re both ejected from Harvey Nics 5^th Floor eatery after the nipper starts flicking chips at random, neighbouring ladies-who-lunch - despite head waiter seeming pretty impressed by how many Baby GAP bags we’d managed to squeeze under our table.

Amused over sweetly wafting coffee and lurid papers, Sunday morn, amidst purring Mous ‘n Cous. Recent allegations in the News of the World, that former royal butler Paul Burrell is a closet queer, trolling gay saunas for men behind his wife’s back, have reportedly led to the 49-year old scurrying for advisers - not least to safeguard his vast wealth. Burrell’s mainly US-based projects - including books, DVDs, lines in home furnishings and wines, etiquette classes and TV presenting - have supposedly earned him in the region of $25 million, almost £13 million. Australian Greg Pead has already claimed they’d once had an affair; and Michael Barrymore, who was friends with Di, maintains the former butler tried to seduce him too, way back.

Forego usual Monday morn Circa mews meet in order to meet tight Capital Queer column deadline, this week focusing on the vast struggle still left to change attitudes and so-called “hearts and minds”, even if laws have now almost all fallen into place in Britain. The recent Scottish Social Attitudes Survey suggests that - despite the number of Scots thinking same-sex relationships are always or mostly wrong dropping 11%, to 30%, since 2002; and two thirds (65%) now thinking Scotland should do everything it can to tackle all kinds of prejudice - a third (33%) of those North of the Border still would, apparently, be unhappy if a relative formed a long-term relationship with someone of the same sex. And, perhaps of even greater concern, the Gay Police Association claims to have noticed an increase in reports of homophobia within the force itself, with calls to its internal helpline increasing by around a third in the past year.

Read interesting article on the web, Tuesday morn. Swiss AIDS officials have concluded that people with HIV who have no detectable “viral load” as a result of regular anti-retroviral treatment are unable to transmit the virus. The report said you become “non-infectious” if you have an undetectable viral load for six months, don’t skip any HIV medication and have no other STIs. Elsewhere, read that more and more people seem to be getting HIV here in the UK, both gay and straight. And small wonder. Figures from the latest National AIDS Trust Public Attitudes Towards HIV survey show the general UK population is becoming ever more ignorant about the virus and its transmission. Only 6% of those asked could correctly identify all the ways HIV is transmitted; and a staggering 1 in 5 (21%) do not identify unprotected sex between a man and a woman as a potential route – compared with just 9% back in 2000. Perhaps most alarmingly, a quarter (24%) now say they do not use a condom with a new sexual partner as a matter of course.

Try to woo Kev ‘n Karl, plus Nutty, on my volunteering crusade, Wednesday - after a dinner I throw at mine. So much to choose from, even just re HIV. Gay men’s health charity GMFA (http://www.gmfa.org.uk/), believing that “health promotion for gay men is fundamentally enhanced when community-members take a central role in the development and delivery of its projects”, is always on the homo-hunt for volunteers. Ditto Food Chain (http://www.foodchain.org.uk/) which “provides nutrition services including home-delivered meals, essential groceries and other advice to men, women and children who are chronically sick as a result of HIV-related illness” – aided by around 1000 helpers. And one mustn’t forget that relative charitable giant Terrence Higgins Trust (http://www.tht.org.uk/) was originally set up by a group of volunteers who came together to provide care and support to people who were living with HIV – “in the face of fear, ignorance, misinformation and prejudice” – and volunteers have played an important and central role in the quarter-century since.

Bugger off, Thursday afternoon, for a long lazy weekend on the volcanic island of Lanzarote, the northernmost Canary – a seemingly barren idyll off the African coast that is, in fact, highly fertile! Stay in the Gran Hotel – by far the tallest building on the island, offering staggering views out over the bay, beach and pulsing heart of capital, Arrecife. It also boasts one of the world’s great spas – press every button and the whole joint explodes with water - plus classy top-floor Stars Bar and eatery. Arrecife itself boasts a wonderful waterfront, with two little castles and the stunning little El Reducto beach – often far less crowded than those in the island’s three main resorts: family-orientated Costa Teguise, nightlife-beckoning Puerto del Carmen, plus picturesque Playa Blanca.

Yet, if sun and sand aren’t your every thing, other – equally natural - attractions abound, many linked to the island’s greatest son: aritst, architect, planner and visionary, César Manrique (1919-1992), who persuaded the powers that be and – most significantly – the local people themselves of his philosophy that man should build low and design aesthetically, so as to “maintain an essential harmony with nature”. I “take airs” behind and around the Castillo de San Gabriel - on capital Arrecife’s waterfront - as gloaming sun sets! Plus at a couple of Lanzarote’s many nudist beaches. And, frankly, wherever my gaydar starts to twitch!