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Queer Editorial

blusher.jpg Blusher Warning: Olympics feature may contain the word “cycloptic”…
 

Soon all we’ll have to remember these two glorious weeks will be night-terror flashbacks of history’s most ill-conceived mascots: two glaring, unblinking cycloptic tentacles.

But let’s forget Mandeville and Wenlock - unsleeping triffid vigilantes for Boris’ dystopian vision for London - and instead get back to the topic of the stars of the Olympics: the fastest, strongest, springiest, swimmiest people on the planet. And now for the inevitable question: are any of them gay? (Most certainly). Do we know who? (Not officially). Does it matter?

We already know the sexuality of many athletes: dull moments in sports are the time for the cameras to zoom in on family members in the crowd. But while the camera will always pick out a husband, wife, boyfriend or girlfriend, it never seems to find a same-sex partner. It’s not that we want to pry into gay athlete’s private lives, we just want them to be humanised and normalised. Gosh, it’s not like we want to turn our Olympians into gay role models or anything. It’s not as though it would do any good for school kids to look up to these magnificent sportspeople and know that some were straight and others gay. Imagine that! Actually don’t, you've alerted the thought-police slime-mascots and that giant angry eye is staring straight at you. Run! Run now! MS