And The Winner Is...

Ah, we had the joy of the Mr Hoist 2007 contest to attend on Saturday, and we went along with The God (sigh!) and Daddy.

Unfortunately it's not an Oscar-style competition where awards are given out for "Best Blow-job" or "Most People Cum Over". Or even "Most Inappropriate Fart". "Most Piss Drunk In One Evening" would be an easy award, it going to the guy that sits under the urinals every week with a funnel. Every week! Doesn't he have a book to read or some hair to wash? Hope he's had his hepatitis jabs... anyway, as I say, it wasn't that kind of competition. I wish someone had told me BEFORE I turned up in a backless vintage Valentino gown. I knew white was a dodgy decision but I'm never going to get some of the stains out.

No, the Mr Hoist (NSFW) competition is a bit like a Butlins Wet T-shirt event. Some "Dolly Birds", or in this case "Leather Clad Men", get up on a podium and are ridiculed by the host, and made to perform pirouettes in their finery, to the whoops and applause of the baying audience. Or in fact, to the behind-the-hands comments like "Had him. Small willy", or "Arse like a ripped out fireplace". Fortunately for The Boyf and I we'd not "had" any of the contestants and therefore refrained from any comment other than "Shouldn't be wearing that", and "Ew! Blue rubber!".

There were two rounds, one of which wasn't "Swimwear". Shame. The only difference I could tell between the two rounds was that the contestants were actually allowed to speak the second time round, but only in answer to questions posed by the incredibly Germanic host. Answers didn't include anything to do with world peace or ending 3rd World famine, but did include "If I win I'll suck every cock in here" (as if he hadn't already), and "This used to be my Mum's wedding dress". Actually the second one is a lie.

Finally we got to vote. Of the nine contestants one was rather lovely and stood head and shoulders over everyone else. Unfortunately he knew it. Minimum effort given and very monosyllablic. That meant The Boyf didn't vote for him after all, as didn't anyone else apparently as he wasn't in the final three. I really rather liked No.2's chest so he got both our votes, and was placed second. The guy that won was the only one in the competition we actually knew, so we were rather pleased, as was he apparently. He was seen later the next day in another bar being fucked by almost everyone in the place as a way of celebrating. Added a new meaning to "Are you going to enter Mr Hoist this year?". (Actually, when we arrived at the Hoist The Boyf was asked by at least six different people whether he'd be entering the competition. Do you know how many people asked me? None. Nadda. Not one. Harumph).

After the competition everyone left. Oh! What happened to the sex? We left too, met up with The Drag Queen, and went to the opening of "Rise Up" at the Colosseum. We've missed the Colosseum since Beyond closed so it was nice to be back in the place after nearly a year, and the "Bear Square" rapidly reappeared (being an area of the dancefloor for the more hirsuite of us, where twinks get growled at, or occassionally eaten, if they accidentally step into it. We mark the boundary by peeing on the floor when we arrive, like real bears. (Kidding)). We rather enjoyed it all and will be going back for more methinks.

After that we walked (ok, stumbled) down the road to Fire for "Later" and had the usual good time, until my back started to ache and then seize up forcing an early exit home to bed. (We'd been out from 10pm Saturday til 2pm Sunday so I think we were due a rest anyway).

Another weekend well spent.