We should not be allowed out in public.

While reviewing the items has been fun (if a little difficult to explain to the parental units), I personally think that the voyage to Westfield in Stratford to actually procure them was far more interesting.

When I left the house on that fateful day, I had no idea of the insanity that awaited me. I honestly expected it to be a normal day for me - friends, sweets and titillation.

Pictured: all three above ideas.

I was wrong. Very wrong. The madness started before I'd even left my home town (which I won't name, for fear of lunati-I mean, our lovely readers visiting unannounced). You see, me and Eli live quite near to each other, so I agreed to wait for her at the train station. I assumed I could wait there in peace, unharried by the weirder members of the community, but no sooner had I set up camp by an inviting looking wall, than I felt a tap on my shoulder. I whirled round, let out a manly yelp, and prepared myself to face the unholy terror that had surely crept up on me with malicious intent.

I found myself facing this:

Look at her, just waiting for a chance to strike.

It was a charming old lady, asking for directions to the hospital, and now very perturbed by the apparently insane young man loitering outside the train station. I gave her directions and she waddled off. Eli arrived shortly after, and I boarded the train with her before any further geriatric muggers could arrive. 

I just wish to clarify something: Westfield is big. Not slightly big, nor big with an asterisk next to it, denoting a hidden qualifier, just plain big. So when me and Eli arrived there, we had no idea where to wait for the others. At the entrance? In the centre? In the Gent's toilets? We had no idea, so we set upon the safest option being directly outside Ann Summers. It was only once Todostrieb and Mel arrived that we realised how we looked. 

Totally innocent?

Here we were, two shifty-looking teenagers loitering outside a sex-shop, and now we'd been joined by two more shifty-looking teenagers. The only consolation was that, as the only male, I must have appeared to others as either the gayest or the luckiest guy in the world, and I'm fine with either of those. Mel rightly pointed out the fact that the staff in Ann Summers were actively staring at us, and that we couldn't go in now, so we skulked off to Pink Berry for fro-yo.

Mine was larger than everyone else's, but also quite significantly not-straight. Fitting.

Over our cold confectionery, we discussed tactics: which shape should we take to enter the shop? Diamond formation? Single file? Had the staff of Ann Summers already called security? Should we abscond with our yoghurt while we were still free to do so? There was much confusion, until, as a group, we collectively went "Fuck it.", and marched straight into the shop.

Choosing the sweets was also an interesting occurrence. The White Chocolate Sperm was unanimously reviled, and Rory had already claimed the Giant Chocolate Willy, but apart from that I think we all wanted to try everything. We'd each point to something, go "Ooh" or "Ah", then point to something else and repeat the process. The actual sweets we ended up with were the result of us beginning to feel like we were overstaying our welcome in the shop.

"Seriously, just set up a tent and be done with it."

Purchases made, we set about the arduous task of waiting for Rory, who was trekking his way down from wherever he lives. Norfolk, Southend, Ganymede, somewhere like that. Meanwhile, I invited Amber (our lady of the lovely guest post) down, for fun and socialisation. While also waiting for her, we came across two gloriously camp people in funny hats:

Identities hidden to protect the insane.

A semi-naked man:

Such a shame, Rory and Miu missed this...

And Mel was cursed by the girl from The Ring:

But it's alright, they're dating anyway.

Then we marched off to Lakelands at Todostrieb's request to look at pots, pans and banana cases. While waiting there for Amber to arrive, Todostrieb tried to take a photo of me, Mel and Eli. Disappointed with the first try, she scolded us and told us to "look gayer":

That's me on the left, standing next to a lesbian couple kissing and being told off for somehow not being camp enough.

Once Amber arrived (sporting a fetching new haircut), we set off to the toy store, because we could:

One is small, fierce-looking and not suitable for children under 3. The other is a Lego character.

Then, once Rory arrived, we headed back into Ann Summers, which by this point was probably filing a group restraining order against us. This, combined with Amber's presence, led to Rory buying his fated chocolate member, Amber buying a lacy dress to wear to an upcoming Fetish Evening, and me buying a lacy mask to wear to the same event:

They didn't have a dress in a colour that suited me. 

Once we'd done that, I think we were unanimous in our belief that the outing should be drawn to a close. We were tired, fraught, and in danger of being exorcised by Ann Summers employees, under the mistaken assumption that we were ghosts haunting the place, so we headed back to our respective homes.

Going out with us is always exciting.

As always, we're available for sexy chats at homojournal@gmail.com.

Until next time (read: tomorrow), dear readers,

James

I think you'll agree, I look rather fetching in my lace blindfold. Amber said it reminded her of a garter. Does that mean my face reminds her of a thigh? If so, what do I say to that? Thank you?