In light of some recent Facebook conversations, I have been accused in a DM of being homophobic and a disability-hater.
I was going to let it go, but I decided that I will not be defamed. No one in their right mind would go up to a WWE contestant and call out, “Oi, you big fat poof!” I feel that I’m not prepared for someone somewhere else in the world to call me homophobic and an enemy of the disabled.
Let’s deal with each accusation in turn
Homophobia
Back in the very early 1990s, whilst living in England and pursuing a career as a singer-songwriter, I met Chris Bell in a business interview (he was interviewing me for a job). We hit it off straight away, so much so that very soon I spent all my weekends in the ‘Bell Zone’, he and his wife Katie’s back garden, where Chris and I hung out drinking loads and loads of Budweiser and Katie kept the chicken wings flowing.
Much joy was had.
Fast forward a few years, Chris and I were living in different parts of the country. We still kept in touch and whenever we got together we binged on ‘The Princess Bride’, ‘Beetlejuice’, and other fan favourites.
A little while later my best friend in the world organised a table in a posh restaurant in Oxford and I drove across to it. Once inside, I noticed that Chris had a persistent, niggling cough. Nothing he did seemed to make it go away.
Well, that was until he told his best mate that he had been away on holiday without Katie and had come to the realisation that he was gay. My first reaction was to announce I was buying him ‘His & His’ towels the next day.
When Chris eventually moved to London, I would go up to London every Friday night and we would go clubbing. In the gay bars. I’ve never had so much fun in my life. I felt so safe and befriended that any initial fear I had, seeded by watching too much miserabilist tv, was swept aside. We laughed and laughed and laughed. And watched the movies mentioned above over and over again.
Eventually, in 1999, I left England and returned to Adelaide via a two-week stopover at Chris’ place in San Francisco (he moved there for his job). He attempted to heal my broken heart at leaving my beloved 5yo stepson behind, but his mother and my hands were tied—Oli’s father refused permission for Oli to leave England. Chris was wonderful, as best friends often are, and being in his company was, as always, a delight.
Fast forward to 2004. I’m engaged to be married. To a woman with three children. The only man I wanted for the job of Best Man was Chris. He and his then-partner (curiously, also gay… what are the odds?) flew out from England—at his expense—and spent a few days with me being his wonderful self. He charmed everyone and to this day my friends still ask after him.
Chris and I still chat on WhatsApp and swap book suggestions (he’s an avid self-improvement reader). He is still my best friend in the whole world, a man who was there for me when my world fell apart and stayed that way for quite a while.
Am I homophobic? You be the judge.
A hater of the disabled
About a year or three after I met Chris at an Alfred Marks (recruitment agency) job interview, I was working at the Reading branch. The branch was three-storey, with the ground floor taken up with office desks and telephones, the basement with training rooms, and the first floor with lots of space for functions.
One such Friday night the branch held a ‘keep the clients happy’ function, whereby wine and food in copious amounts was brought in and the couriers negotiated the exceedingly tight and difficult-to-climb stairs.
At one early stage of the evening, there was a ring of the doorbell and a young woman stood smiling at me (as a junior member of the branch I was tasked with answering the door). The young lady wore a calliper on each leg and was also not able to balance or grip onto handrails. This could have been awkward for both the young lady and Alfred Marks.
Luckily for all, someone picked her up and carried her up the stairs, stayed with her long enough to get her some food and a drink. At the end of the night that knight in shining armour also carried her down the very precarious stairs, where a simple slip by the knight would have ended up with them both tumbling down the stairs and injuring each other. He opened the door for her, made sure her cab was waiting, then re-joined the shindig.
No prizes for guessing who that might be, but they were probably a hater of disabled people.
Conclusion
If you are going to besmirch me, make sure you have the facts.
Oh, and here’s Chris Bell’s Facebook profile, in case you think he’s made up. I’m sure Chris will confirm all that I have laid before you. https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100094611141082