Written by a professor with an excellent ability to introduce the nouvel étudiant⁰ to the first principles of linguistics without being overwhelming, it introduced me to several new concepts:

The term anti-language refers to forms of language that are used by people who are somehow apart from mainstream society, either residing on the edges of it, perhaps frowned on in some way, or hidden away or even criminalised, with attempts from the mainstream to expel or contain them.

It also gives an overview of whether Polari is a language, or merely argot, slang, or cipher.

Without explicitly mentioning Sapir-Whorf hypothesis, it gradually makes the case that Polari wasn't just about hiding intentions; it was a way to rewrite the way speakers viewed society.

they use language to represent reality in a different way, so that the values of the anti-society are produced, as opposed to the values of the mainstream society.

Polari is an oral language, there's very little written down outside of a few diaries, so the book relies heavily on interviews with former-speakers. The author acknowledges the problems with this and cheerfully points out where speculation is used to cover for a lack of evidence. Nevertheless, it does feel slightly defensively written.

Similarly, the author acknowledges that the modern world can find the use of some Polari terms problematic. The attitudes of some of the interviewees are, obviously, a little dated. There's a good discussion about the philosophical split between the Gay Liberation Front and other groups. Should homosexuals be accepted by the mainstream - or does that destroy their culture? Certainly the decriminalisation homosexuality and eventual legalisation of equal marriage played a part in the language's downfall.

One problem with reading a book about a spoken language is that it can be like watching a dance-recital about philosophy:

Take for example fantabulosa, which contains five syllables: fan-tab-u-los-a. If used as an exclamation, as Sandy would sometimes do, the ‘a’ sound in the syllable ‘tab’ would be extended while the following ‘u’ would have a falling intonation.

There's also a fascinating discussion about how culture evolves. First secret, then mainstream, then out-of-date, then retro, then sold back to us. Polari went through the same cycle and is now making its way back. The word "Polari" pops in and out of vogue as mainstream culture changes. As seen in:

This is a witty, and occasionally wryly bitchy, look at a slice of culture which was much wider than the Julian and Sandy sketches. A perfect book for language lovers.

Quentin Crisp was - depending on how you read his⁰ autobiography - famous for being infamous, notorious for being Proud before Pride, or an uncompromising icon of studied awfulness.

The book veers wildly between achingly painful prose and unimaginably bitchy barbs. Every page is stuffed with acid-drops of social commentary.

About my immortal soul I did not worry. Vice is its own reward. It is virtue which, if it is to be marketed with consumer-appeal, must carry Green Shield stamps.

Being Gay in the early half of the 20th Century was, to put it mildly, not easy. The book deals lightly with some rather awful abuse. It also reveals rather frankly how prevalent queer culture was in the inter-war years, and the effect of "over-paid, over-sexed, and over-here" GIs on the scene. It's something I've never seen mentioned before in any book about the London Blitz.

Curiously, the book is remarkably non-salacious. I wasn't expected a modern bonk-buster, but it is faintly amusing where the line of respectability is drawn.

It is both bewildering and heartening to see how much has changed in the last hundred years. Parts of the book feel almost like a damp-squib today. Crisps decision to be as outrageously "out" as possible was obviously terrifying and liberating all at the same time. And, the result is that nowadays some of the things he describes are completely unremarkable.

I was over thirty before, for the first time, I heard somebody say that he did not think of himself as masculine or feminine but merely as a person attracted to other persons with male sexual organs. A confession of this nature would still bewilder and, perhaps, anger some of my homosexual friends.

And, yet, there are nasty little echoes of a future that hasn't changed all that much:

In spite of their tameness, all these clubs for homosexuals were raided sooner or later and the cases that followed enlivened the pages of the News of the World and the People.

It is a stellar look at (one aspect of) queer life in the last century. It is painful, hilarious, maudlin, and hopeful. It is as flamboyant a book as you could hope to read. And it is that relentless dedication to being true to oneself which has, I think, liberated more people than can possibly be imagined.

As Brophy's First Law says, it is not the simple statement of facts that ushers in freedom; it is the constant repetition of them that has this liberating effect. Tolerance is the result not of enlightenment, but of boredom.

When I was at University at the turn of the century, there was a guy in our halls named "Big Gay Gareth"⁰. He was my go-to guy when I had questions about the insidious homosexualist agenda¹. He was instrumental in helping me understand what was, at the time, termed the QUILTBAG world. There were such a bewildering array of terms, customs, and issues - it was like being suddenly exposed to a whole new dimension.

Anyway, we live in a different world now. Love and attraction aren't "adult-only issues". There is such a bittersweet moment in the film when one character complains about the younger generation with the line "We got AIDS. They got Glee."

It's a story about frustration - both at the progress made in society, and the progress made in ourselves. It's about finding a way to let love into your life and letting the rage out of your heart. It's a silly movie about orgy etiquette and post-shenanigan clean-up. Oh, and whether Abe Lincoln was gay (maybe?)

You'd need a heart of stone not to find it hilarious.

The only slight negative is that it is - as many movies are - primarily focused on cis, white, and rich people. It's very open about its limitations and spends a lot of time poking fun at itself.

Amusingly, for a movie so focussed on sex, it isn't particularly explicit. While there's a lot of toplessness, there isn't a single buttock to be seen. Although, that said, I watched this on an aeroplane - so I've no idea how much (if any) was cut from the version I saw!

My German is pretty rusty, but good enough to understand "...Yes, I am at the airport... Yes, I'll make the flight... I have my passport... Do you want any duty free? OK... I love you."

I smile at him - I know that call.

"Ach!" he says to me, "My husband is always worried that I won't make my flight. I always have to tell him it'll be ok."

"My wife's much the same," I say. And we bond for a few minutes like old married men kvetching about how much we're loved by our partners.

"Been married long?" I ask. Mostly so we don't have to continue yesterday's talk about JavaScript frameworks. In return, I get a pleasingly rambling story about modern dating apps and introducing your parents to a one-night stand.

And, then it strikes me. This dude... is married to a dude! He's one of those gays I hear about so often in the media!!! OMG!!!!! And he's just casually dropped that bombshell!!!!!

When I was a teenager - and even at university - coming out was A. Big. Deal. It was emotionally fraught, with promises not to tell anyone else, the heavy burden of a secret, a tentative moment of fragility.

And now... Look, I know the world isn't perfect - and LGBT+ rights need to be fought for and defended - but at times it feels so much better than it ever did.

I'm proud to wear an rainbow lanyard at work. I want my friends and colleagues to know that there's no room for queerphobia in the workplace.

I'm not going to say "some of my best friends are gay" (although they are). And I'm not going to pretend that coming out every day is easy. And there's always a steady drip of bad news about somewhere in the world trying to roll back rights.

But I've lost count of the times a casual acquaintance or colleague has mentioned their same-sex partner, or their Facebook status has suddenly indicated that their "flatmate" is more than just a friend, or that they have a preferred pronoun.

Maybe I have a trustworthy face. Maybe the people who come out to me are festooned with privilege and don't fear a backlash. Maybe as I get older, the people I interact with are more mature.

Maybe it's terrifying every single time and I'm just cluelessly oblivious?

Anyway. Here's to all my friends and co-workers and acquaintances and people I've just met at a party - and anyone reading this - who has thought I was worthy of sharing with:

🍻