"GAYS OF OUR LIVES"... THE FAG ON THE TYNE PART II   He has the kind of glorious muscular bottom you can crack walnuts with.  There's no denying Attila is one fine figure of a man.  But the reason I adore him so much is not just his heaving bosoms, his pert young nipples and his tendency to leave his clothes at the nightclub door.  No, he has that elusive quality (well, elusive to me) which only comes from being born outside this country.  He doesn't blush.  It's so nice to have a man to hide behind.  Personally I can't ask any question to which the answer might be no.  I'd feel such a fool.  So he was in charge.  Let him book the hotel, order the meal, ask directions, decide where we're going - he's just so much better at it than me.  "I dunno" I'd say, the flames of passion dancing in my eyes; "'sup to you", my tongue lolling in lustful delight ;   "you decide - I'm easy", my heart swelling with pride as I followed 5 paces behind, blushing under my yashmak.   We'd been told the shower was a bit..well..broke, so the water wasn't too warm.  Next morning he requested a wrench (well pliers- but it sounds more manly if I say wrench) so he could tweak the knob with it - and do you know I think the girl actually believed it was to fix the shower!      It was.  Though I did get my hopes up for a moment as he was taking a shower and called me in, telling me to bring the fearsome tool with me.  I considered giving him the shock of his life, but was more in hope of getting the shock of mine - I mean he was actually inviting me into the tiny bathroom and I could hear the water was still running.  Surely he'd have nowhere to hide?  Well of course he did.  All I saw was an arm sticking out from behind the shower curtain.  Bugger.   When we left  the hotel, which we got at 30% off anyway, he went and told the girl on the desk that since the shower the night before wasn't that hot he didn't think we should pay "full" price.  His arguement  sounded a little weak the way he put it - but it worked.  They took another £5 off (he never mentioned he'd now busted the control of the shower and left it lying on the bathroom floor).  My admiration for the boy was growing.  In spite of the fact he pocketed the discount for himself...Then before we left the room with all our stuff I noticed he'd dumped a copy of Boyz (the free gay newspaper with a surplus of naked male models on its pages) .  "Are you leaving that here?"  "Yup"  "Isn't this the 'Family' room?"  "That's right."   "A special treat for the kiddies?"  "You got it!"      I love you Attila.   Being faced with a whole day - a Sunday I might add - to fill in Newcastle is as daunting a task as you might imagine.  In the tourist office the day before, while he and that evil hag were plotting ways to ruin my love life, I'd been browsing at the leaflets for museums of the mundane and bizzare.  "Have a fun-filled day out at the North East's PREMIER exhibit of matchboxes/ knicker elastic/dysentry art!"  they all seemed to scream. "Discover a whole new world of odours!"  It was the use of words like PREMIER and FINEST that confounded me - since it seemed to imply they were fighting off competitors in the same field.  I'd have been more interested in the secondary and less fine exhibits of these things.   What we ended up visiting first - not to say last, as it turned out - was the rather entertaining and quite enormous "Life interactive world" , which was to all intents and purposes precisely what you expect to find in the Millenium Dome, at a fraction of the cost.  The theme was the human body, mind and evolution, with increasingly desparate attempts as you passed through it to employ great technology and visuals to illustrate the various aspects in an entertaining and exciting way.  As with the dome, the technology far outweighed the imaginations of the people who'd employed it.  That was certainly the case when we came to the section labeled the SECRET OF LIFE SHOW.   An enclosed theatre with a 10 or 15 minute - and I quote - "fast and funny show" explaining all about DNA.  I'll simply tell you I was with a qualified doctor and he left as confused as me.  If you have one ounce of shame, or the physiological capacity for blushing, avoid it like the plague.  Attila, of course sat with a transfixed grin, as amused by my discomfort as by that of those on stage.   It was just before the doors sealed closed (I think we were meant to be inside a brain or something) and the young man in a white lab coat and preposteroulsy "actor-y" version of an upper class voice started speaking over  the PA, "Ah, just waiting for a few more victims..er..I mean guests!" that my heart sank.  Oh dear God.  Childrens' Workshop Theatre, what have you done?!  I can't begin to tell you the dialogue that followed - between him and his assistant, a girl with a local accent, called "Brain".- it's so traumatic I've blocked most of it out. But it was awful.  It was full of comedy and devoid of laughter, and I spent the whole time crouched over, trying to hide behind the woman in front for fear of making eye contact with the two suicides on Stage.  It was clearly aimed at 3 year olds but there were none in that day.  Instead an awful lot of english people sitting on their hands trying to look elsewhere or find something heavy and metalic they could fashion into weapons.   Considerably better was the Crazy motion ride - one of these things where you're sitting in a theatre but your seat is moving in response to the motions on the giant screen in front of you, so you're experiencing all the sensations of a high speed car chase, roller coaster , bungee jump, surfing etc.  Being on board a boat with Aussie Life guards is particularly gratifying as you appear to be at the level of their crotches as they sway back and forward.  The man in charge mentioned it was the longest in the world...(well, what did you think I meant?)   That left 5 hours or more before we had to go for our trains.  Yeess....Not the best fun I've ever had, worsened by my inability to blame Attila as I'd have liked.  I mean there's no particular reason he should have any more idea what to do there than me, but it would be nice to think he was responsible.  I found myself dragging along silently behind him and waiting outside shops like a conquered husband while he browsed for clothing for the man with a fuller bosom.  Silence ruled and I could see him getting more convinced I was in a mood with him - which I wasn't until he started suggesting I was, when I had to suppress the desire to tell him to fuck off.  Conversation between us seems to have a natural 12 hour life span.  Then he did something totally bizarre.  As we finally set off towards the train station, still stuck for anything to say, we were crossing a road when a woman beside us with some children said out loud "hold hands as you cross the road."  I wasn't paying attention so was a bit confused when Attila stretched out his hand to me and said "come on then!"   When I finally cottoned on, he was already withdrawing his arm, so I adopted a sad puppy dog look and he hesitated, looked at me and offered me his hand again and we set off down the road holding hands in the most exagerated fashion.   I could have fallen for him there and then.  If only that woman had instructed her kids to sodomize each other, my life would have been complete....     As I left on a train journey that would take 6 hours, involving hitting a car on a level crossing, being transfered several times and being stuck behind a young man with a mobile phone who'd quite clearly rediscovered his jewish heritage from American sitcoms (he kept reaching the punchlines of his stories - accompanied by his own solitary laughter - in yiddish, whilst maintaining the most inappropriate middle class English accent.  "I was schmoosing the tocas - you know wina schnitzel, the Hunchback  - and he said to me..."  (the Hunchback??) His parents would certainly have had no idea what he was talking about.  What's Hebrew for prick?)  - anyway as I left, Attila insisted I write Gays of Our Lives, unedited, despite all my insistence he'd be insulted.  "You'll be hurt", I said.  "No I won't", he insisted, " and if I like it, next time we'll have fabulous sex...."     So there you go.