Disgusted of Tunbridge Wells

Dear London Times, the editor or to whom it may concern

I write this letter as my endeavour for the sake your readers learn

Of such unabashed debauchery involving two young males

Holding hands they were in broad daylight right here in Tunbridge Wells

As I took my stroll down the Pantiles to get my morning paper

These filthy two. I’m telling you held hands outside the draper

Though such bad taste, they’re in right place for them to buy a curtain

With the longest drape so they can’t escape and hide their filth for certain

In Georgian days there were here gays when Beau Nash lived round here

When men wore wigs and pantaloons. The respectably queer

Unlike those two homosexualists, referred to above in question

Beau Nash the dandy enjoyed male candy but with the utter most discretion

We need to warn the public of men corrupting other males

I expect a prompt and just reply

yours,

Disgusted of Tunbridge Wells

 

That phrase, The Disgusted of Tunbridge Wells – that infamous nom de plume

Synonymous with my hometown Tunbridge Wells where you go to meet your doom

This quintessential Englishman shroud himself in mystery

His legacy lives on in present times as much as it did it history

And if you think  this saint of complaint has gone then you’d be wrong

The heckling voice of Middle England proves that he lives on

The crafted moan by those at home with nothing else to do

But complain about the daily filth they feel subjected to

For they survive on diatribe,  Mr Hyde then Dr  Jeckyl

They shout out loud EQUALITY then homophobic heckle

 

Me growing up in Tunbridge Wells, what caught my fascination

was this rather impressive painted mural on the walls of the train station

But in 1980s Tunbridge Wells, mine’s a very different  story

Me working class and liking men amongst middle class and Tory

My Dad belonged to the town Con Club and what  I remember most

is the person looking down on me whilst there eating Sunday roast

Above my head and watching me was a portrait of that year’s PM

whose bill of hate Section 28 shot all gay women and men

My Dad even though he preferred the pub came here often to play pool

Tory values upheld in the Con Club – banning gay being taught at school

A royal spa in Tunbridge Wells but dare your drink the water

Hating gays and voting Tory will get in your in bricks and mortar

My Granddad though from Tunbridge Wells, a subversive with such wit

Behind the guise of his suit and ties, his humour really bit

So many puns behind his smiles

to screw the vigilantes

That famous  walk called The Pantiles

He called instead The Panties  

And if my dear like me you’re queer, then go behind Toad Rock

It’s where to go for toad in the hole, to get yourself some cock

And dare you defy straight Tory eye who knows you like gay sex

Suburban hells is Tunbridge Wells, your trapped in its vortex  

 

In Tunbridge Wells at Pen and Ink, I worked school holiday

This guy called Jason made me blink and realise I’m gay

The chief in charge for graphic design. I had designs on him

His girlfriend though worked in payroll so chances very slim

 

When in came Beryl the tea lady with such a jolly face

when she asked me ‘coffee or tea my dear?’, she saw me smile over at Jase

Tell her I’m gay no not today in fact I’d never risk it

She’d spike my brew I’m telling you, serve me poisoned tea and biscuit

Everybody thinks that Beryl is this diamond hard to find

But this tea lady is downright shady. I  read what’s on her mind

 

'Well if he’s a graphic designer he must gay

They’re all arty farty gays per se

I’d lock them all up if I had my way

Never let them see the light of day

Throw away the key to make sure they

Never get to where your children play

And if they ever escape I  hope and pray

They live far, far, far, far away

 

I heard that on Eastenders Barry and Colin kissed

I’m not saying I disapprove of batty boys but I’m pleased it’s an episode that i missed

 

Would you like a digestive with your tea Lee, or would you’d prefer a cream horn?'

 

But before I could give Beryl the measure of my mind, her trolly and biscuits had gone

 

If one day you  find  you must leave behind Tunbridge Wells and all its crap

Get yourself well out this dark hell and always mind the gap

Tunbridge Wells now has its own Gay Pride.  Get out your whistles and bells

But I proudly claim my own plume de name, I am The Disgusting of Tunbridge Wells