Thank Christ there’s more to TVs on TV than that dumb, bag-lady wannabae in Coronation Street!
What overpaid exec ever assumed transgender equaled Oxfam chic? And finally, with My Transsexual Summer, there’s a spiky sampling of gender diversity, with goth-chick Donna, Gaga-clone Drew, Baby Bear Lewis, etc. One quibble; where’s the sex-life, or are ‘trannies’ – a term this show adores – restricted to a Boy George cup of tea?
Come on – are our gang gay, bi, straight or trans, or all of the above?
While Drew orgasming over a waitress job might satisfy some, how about some real-life sex-for the clueless millions watching? Come on; how does male entry feel in a brand-new snatch? And what if you totally lose new pussy sensation, a common problem?
No wonder Donna’s not interested. And for FTMs, prosthetic dicks barely give a vicarious friction kick, if that. Still, congratulations, Channel 4; at least you’ve teased your supposedly-edgy, audience envelope open a tiny crack, if far less than the gynaecological blitzkrieg trans activists expect!
Meanwhile, over at Olympia Exhibition Centre, Erotica 2011 bitch-slapped its way into town, fronted by the simply edible Nancy Dell’Olio, Cougar Queen Supreme! Bizarrely, I’ve noted online, post-op hostility to the event, particularly from writers who should know better.
To them, I’d say get one thing straight: All gender is a performance, from femme fatale to butch queen and backwards! Just because we surgically elect a sex doesn’t mean we should disrespect the pleasures of those who don’t, with a retroactive, holier-than-thou, born-again feminism that makes Germaine Greer seem lightweight.
Anyway, with that off my tits, it’s fabulous to see Erotica embracing diversity more enthusiastically than ever. Never some seedy, heterosexual bonk-fest, it’s bulging at the crotch with alternative eroticism.
There’s a T-girl bar, exclusively staffed by gender-variants, a thrillingly exotic cabaret/burlesque show featuring Polly Rae, Ophelia Bitz and beautifully androgynous, belly boy dancer Karis Wilde, and pan-gay designer Jed Phoenix’s extraordinary, Samurai-based couture.
And where else are designers completely unfazed by customers publically trying supposedly opposite-sex clothes, whatever that means? Take a bow, Eva Reiser, with your signature, fluorescent, spiky rubber bras and G-strings!
Whatever your sex, whatever your genitalia, inside, outside, self-mutilated (I plead guilty!) or absent, you’ll feel more welcome than a whore bathed in honey by multi-sexual pleasure slaves. Believe me, never in the field of human orgasms has so much been done for so many by so few – the 2011 Erotica team!
Rating: 4/5