Last July I took my kids on the train to the Royal Society summer science exhibition which coincided with that year’s Pride march. On the way we passed by a number of men in leather butt-less chaps, some had whips, a few had gimp masks, others wore hotpants, men and women held up signs saying things like “Jesus had two dads” and “God loves Gays”.
A couple of months later I took them to the Sea Life centre in Brighton. Unbeknown to me, it was naked bike ride weekend. We parked some distance away and had to manoeuvre through streets packed with naked people with everything on show. We hadn’t even got to the Octopus, and they were already traumatised.
