The Buck Went Thataway By Silver Fox continued Continued from

We're all familiar with the zany limp-wristery of characters like Jack on Will & Grace, knowing, self-mocking caricatures that play liberally with stereotypes and received ideas, and we're equally at home with people saying oh, that's just gay in a mock pejorative sense to imply criticism of something with no discernible sexual characteristic (it was comic duo Lee and Herring, who introduced that, if I remember rightly), and on the whole, we don't give it too much thought.

As apparently enlightened, post-modern cats and kittens, we see the former as humorous self-empowerment - the subversive reclamation of the mores and language of the oppressor class by its victims, and the latter can be dismissed as the lampooning of the childish idiocy of unthinking bigots.

But it occurs to me that the gloss of irony that coats these attitudes may be hiding a more deep-rooted attitude. Nobody - certainly nobody white - who considers themselves anything like a hip/liberal/reconstructed type of person would say of (for example) a car that won't start that it's just being a wog or such-like, would they? Some prejudices. it appears, are more universally reviled than others.

This has certainly given me food for thought, and while I would lament a return to the sterile earnestness of PC humour, I think it's important to re-evaluate our attitudes about homophobia. I'm pretty sure most of us are being as cool, modern and ethically-sound as all get out, but we shouldn't let our irony kid ourselves into complacency. I know I don't fancy letting in bigotry by the back door - so to speak.

Whatever Happened To … TAB Clear … ? Racist Fuck-Knuckle of the Week (An occasional, ad hoc celebration of those who make in Hull so special)

Leaning peaceably against the bar of a pub I have decided not to name (to protect the indifferent) and idly dreaming of the consumption of everybody on earth (myself included) by a shrieking maelstrom of fiery death, I like to think I presented a picture of serenity that none would wish to disturb. This of course, shows you what I know.

A leathery old crone whose knitwear indicated her origins to be somewhere in the midcretaceous period nudged me in the ribs and subjected me to a long harangue about these Kossovos. I wouldn't have believed it had I not been there, but with no prompting from me - although was tempted to goad her into even further outlandish flights of delusion and paranoia just to ascertain if there were actually any limits to her idiocy - she told me in all seriousness (and in one breath) that they don't none of them want to work, and they come here taking all the jobs. By Jingo! It makes you glad you're alive, don't it?

Music and Lies - Where Fact and Fabrication Get Down and Dirty

… though not normally a fan of electronic noises, drum loops and other symbols of progress, I've been very impressed with Small Town Mentality, the latest offering from City of Glass. There is a punchiness to their music that at times enthralls, while some of their more acidulous lyrics will be rattling around your brain like an embolism. Besides which, the CD's a freebie, so you could do a fuck of a lot worse... Those of you who have seen CrackTown may well be familiar with the stark and uncompromising material of performance artist and low-rent bon-viveur, YOL, while music lovers will know him as the frontman for hard-edged punk act, G.AT.C.

Sadly, this prominent local creative force took his own life last week due to a low turn-out at one of his gigs. I heard this tragic news from the man himself last night and while I'm a little uncertain as to the veracity of his claim - especially in light of the fact that he later got me in a headlock during a debate about the exact function of a demitasse spoon - I thought I'd bring it up so you can look into it for yourselves… … Turismo psyche themselves up for performances by swapping Polaroid photographs of their kneecaps before each gig... more next time.

Foxy's Final Thought

As summer approaches; as the nights shorten, and as journalists with fuck all better to do turn their thoughts to where they can next fry eggs in order to demonstrate what a scorcher we're having, many of you may be tempted to start wandering about in a semi-naked state. Before you start shedding layers like a lottery winner sloughing off their former friends, can I take this opportunity to implore you to be honest with yourselves?

I'm not advocating body-fascism here, but think of just how much sorrow could be avoided by more people taking on board the following ancient adage: A moment on the lips - you're a big fat bastard

Columns - Democracy - Not Everyone's Bag - The Silver Fox
	First things first: I ought to clarify what I'm doing here, taking up valuable space on your monitor - a space that I realise that so many of you consider an inviolate sanctuary for pictures of amusing deformity or make your own Semtex recipes. The fact is, it's all something of a mistake. Read more...

Articles - Made In Hull - Part Two - Our Terrace By Maurice Fairfield

	Ours was the typical terrace. Some had houses with small front gardens and a path down the middle to each front door. Not so Alex Avenue; a short dead-end courtyard with seven houses on each side. Foot traffic only, in fact the head of the terrace was enclosed by a hoop topped iron fence with a gate Read more...

Articles - Death On Camera By Nicholas Boldock
	I have just watched Death On Camera, the BBC documentary about Christopher Alder, who died in police custody in Hull in 1998. If you missed the programme and don't already know the case, here are the facts: Christopher Alder was in Waterfront Nightclub on the night of April 1st, 1998. There was an altercation inside the club Read more...

Articles - Made In Hull - Part One - Arundel Street Days By Maurice Fairfield

	My story begins in Arundel Street and wanders away to the shallow end of Holderness Road next door to the tram sheds and opposite the old Astoria Cinema, which was at that time the New Astoria Cinema. Then to Hedon for a time, then back to Arundel a couple of years before the outbreak of the war. Read more...

Articles - Digging Up The Past By Cilla

	Months ago we published an series of articles written by a man who was witness to the events in The Cod Wars. His name is John Boldock and his story is an honest account of what life was like for him as a young man in what were dangerous and terrifying times. After the story had been published on the site Read more...

Articles - Speed Dating By Ash Jamieson

	I've seen it. I've peeked down the rabbit's hole. A large group of people all looking for love in a pub on White Friar Gate. Great to watch, daunting to be a part of but on the whole, good fun all round. Speed dating, for those that have never witnessed the phenomena, is exactly what it sounds like. Dating at speed. A group of people split down Read more...

Articles - If You Tolerate This, Your Children Will Be Next (How Hull helped the children of Spain.) By Rich Mills
	In May 1937 the Spanish liner Habana left Bilbao in Spain, on-board were 4,200 Basque children being brought to the safety of the UK. The Spanish Civil War had started on July 17th 1936, and the world stood by and watched in horror as innocents were slaughtered. Some however took it upon themselves to do something about the blood-shed. Read more...