Inside The Twisted World Of Gay Marriage



WWN takes you, the reader inside the much misunderstood world of gay marriage, civil partnerships and international espionage.

This humble reporter was ready to set the world straight (pun very much intended, in fact, I had planned it weeks in advance) on how the divisive rhetoric of the marriage equality debate was needlessly tearing the fabric of Irish society apart while simultaneously calling you names as you waited for a bus into work in the mornings. Sadly, as I delved further into the murky world of gay marriage, I found myself questioning everything I had ever known up until this point.

I met Harry, a gay man interested in a bit of gay marriage, on an incredibly well lit street in Dublin’s city centre. Incidentally, that was his real name, I was struck by how he refused to let me ‘protect his identity’. As a gay man, Harry actually looked much like you or I except for being over 12 foot tall, and try as I might I could not ignore the fact in spoke in tongues and had over a dozen eyes.

Harry was to be my guide through the secret underground world of the LGBT community, without him I would never be able to penetrate the gay community (this was more of a spur of the moment innuendo, in your end oh). Using a secret communication method which was alien to me as a bigoted straight person, he pressed a ‘doorbell’ and we entered a dwelling he called a ‘home’. Here he introduced me to his partner of 25 years, Niall, I had to ask several times but Harry assured me gay people do not cut off the head of their lovers after intercourse.

Gay people with stable and long term relationships, a shock I know. Still reeling from this discovery, Harry showed me around his ‘home’, there were pictures of ‘family’, presumably trophies from a series of people he was forced to murder to keep ‘the gay agenda’ going.

Most shocking was when Niall showed me where he hibernated, in the room next to the bathroom Niall showed me a ‘bed’ which I later confirmed through careful research was in fact an Egyptian style sarcockphagus, the homosexual’s sleeping pod which gave them regenerative powers. Niall refused to show me where he kept the skin he shed when the seasons changed.

If I’m honest it was at this point I started to worry: except for being Irish, living in Ireland, paying taxes, working, enjoying friendships, films, music, laughter, long walks on the beach, that episode of Friends where Joey and Chandler win Rachel and Monica’s apartment after beating them in that quiz, what on God’s green Earth had I got in common with these creatures? The answer terrifyingly was: nothing.

I had caught a glimpse into their strange twisted world and I did not like it. I persisted, venturing into a ‘pub’ where they drank libidinous liquids but I refused to dip my toe in that well. I had heard rumours this strange drink made you lose your inhibitions and I have long suppressed the fact that I, like, everyone can identity when a member of the opposite sexual orientation is classified as ‘attractive’. I was forced to drink it in the end using a strange blend of charm and burgeoning friendship.

They had nearly caught me out. I had almost danced to a song by Madonna. I left enraged that the gay agenda has clearly upped its game since the days of being loudly discriminated against by a powerful and ignorant few.

I availed of several research methods known only to experienced pro-anti-gay journalists like myself to discover that if gay marriage becomes a reality in Ireland we will all pay taxes totaling 93% on all income. Do you want children to shoot other children with guns? Well, that’s what gay marriage gets you. Do you want your lovely Granny Noleen to be inundated with calls from an Indian-based call centre? Well, that’s what gay marriage gets you.

Harry rang me the following morning to see if I wanted to do ‘brunch’, it is unclear at this point, but I believe it to be a religious ceremony at which they worship a lizard God of some kind. I declined as I had been violently ill after coming home from the pub at 4am. It had finally dawned on me, this vomiting had obviously been brought on by prolonged exposure to their way of life. I had been impregnated with a mind altering ‘gay microchip’.