We're Proud, We're Out... and so is England!

Yesterday, the streets of London were littered with gays from all over the world. Man-ladies and lady-men, I give you EuroPride 2006, a photo essay in 1 parts.



The parade had the pre-requisite mix of trash and triumph though there was not nearly as much hot man flesh as is on display in Sydney during Mardi Gras. Although I did get a photo one good looking guy...



There was a excellent balance between big, dancey, diva-blaring floats and community marches. At one stage a pair of lessssbians, who were wheeling their daughter along were asked to move off the road, to which they replied, "We're in the fucking parade!" Love it!



I've always enjoyed Melbourne's Pride parade over Sydney's. There is less pretense and they don't have to bankrupt the country to purchase all the sequins. London had the same sort of feel.



One thing is for sure: If they are going to release a EuroPride 2006 compilation they may as well just buy out the remaining copies of Confessions On A Dancefloor and repackage it. I am sure Madge's throat was sore by the end of the parade.



Paul and the gang met us down there after about three quarters of an hour. Their pain threshold was a little lower than ours so after about two seconds of arm twisting, we skipped across the road, pranced down Carnaby Street and into Soho Square.



It seems all the naked man flesh had missed the parade and gone straight for the party. Soho was awash with skin and the smell of whey protein hung heavy in the air. There were a couple of djs from Madrid playing and the good ladies in the beer tent kept the lager flowing.



Me, Paul and an audience. Don't worry, it didn't get too out of hand. We weren't as trashy as some of our brothers and sistas out there.



We chose some dodgy Chinese buffet to fill ourselves with alcohol soaker. I recommend the seaweed salad and the peanuts. While we were eating we were surrounded by the nail biting and cheers of the England supporters as they watched ANOTHER penalty shoot out with Portugal. I needn't tell you who won. It was a penalty shootout. England are really, REALLY good at those.

We ended the night at Duckie in Elephant and Castle. They had a bizarre EuroSHAME party going on. Let's just say it was a unique experience. At the door they had hired some gypsie beggars to dive into your pockets. They got their nimble fingers into Roger's.

Inside there was a booth for all the countries of the Union and each had a little stall where you could spend your Euros. Owing to unforeseen circumstances my money remained unspent, but the others managed to get their nails painted in the stocks of Slovakia and bared their arses in the Czech Republic.

I'll never look at Vikings the same way again. Some people just shouldn't pole dance.



On the train home I overheard that France still remains unbeaten by Brazil, which leaves Germany, Portugal, Italy (divers, hiss hiss) and France in the World Cup. The more things change, the more they stay the same. Let's hear it for Europa!

Tags: EuroPride, London, gay, photos