Chapter 4: Zip Me Up Before You Go-Go/WHAMming in the public washroom (pick your favourite title).

I was able to get to London on time to meet someone on a 'date', if you wanna call it like that. The meeting place was going to be at a public washroom near Alexandre Palace (or as those silly Londoner would say 'Ally Pally'). You'll find out later why.

I can't believe I have to pay 50 pence to be in a filthy washroom. At 50 pence the washroom should be as clean as a Greek temple. Instead I'm in a washroom with piss, shit and toilet paper all over the place. I have to put my bag on top of the toilet bowl, it's the only clean place in this shithole. After about 15 minutes he arrive.

"Hey big stud are you around. I'm in need of a Father Figure."

It was none other than that fruitty, French, flaming, flamboyant, fudgepacking, faerie, firehosing, feminine, fruit cake, fairy cake, fingering buttholes faggot George Michael. Yep, he still goes to public washrooms and seeks glory in the "glory hole."

"And I'm in need a good suck George." I was rolling my eyes over this lameness. I sounded like that gay dude that Damon Wayan plays on the American show In Living Color.

"How big are you baby?"

"Big and juicy."

What George doesn't know is that what he's about to put his dirty dick-sucking mouth on is acutally a modified silencer that was made in Sweden. It's shaped and feels like a real penis so George wouldn't be able to tell whether or not it's fake, but then again as horny as he was he wouldn't care one bit. As for the silencer itself, those Swedish people are some kinky mother fuckers don't you think?

So I put the modified silencer on my Magnum and place it through the glory hole.

"Oh my Lord, I wanna shove this big boy up my arse."

I was trying to hold my vomit after he made that comment. Oh god I don't want to see or smell his hairy ass, nor do I wanna be cleaning his shit off of my silencer.