Dear Crystal,
For the last four years I’ve been having a highly illicit gay love affair with a very senior Liberal
politician. I don’t want to get him into trouble so let’s just call him Shmony Shmabbott. Myself and
Shmony first met in the Tool Shed on Oxford Street after I accidentally stumbled over him in the
toilets (he was on his knees at the time so I didn’t see him). We hit it off right away, but it was only
later that night when his rainbow wig fell off during our marathon buggery session that I realised
who he was. In hindsight, I should have recognised him from the Tool Shed toilets – I knew I’d seen
those budgie smugglers before – but it was only now that I twigged and he begged me to keep his
secret safe. I wasn’t sure what to do, but he managed to persuade me with his silver tongue – let’s
just say his mouth isn’t just good for spouting noxious bile at minority groups. We still meet up every
weekend all these years later, but he insists he’s too ashamed to come out – and overcompensates
by openly campaigning against same-sex marriage. Is there anything I can do to help him come to
terms with his homosexuality so we can be together as a real couple?

Yours, Julian

Dear Julian,
I don’t know how to break this to you but I’m afraid you’re just another notch on phony Shmony’s
bed post. In truth, he’s quite comfortable with his cock-hungry appetite for homosexual sex and he’s
got at least another dozen blokes around town who he tells exactly the same story to. How do I
know? Because he still pays me to “peg” him with a strap on every other Friday evening. That’s why
his ears are the way they are.

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