The always entertaining Professor Bunyip – surely Gianna’s first choice for Godfather of the newly arrived Harley – waxes eloquent. In a, “you might get what you wish for,” cautionary tale, about the perils that that might await maritally-inclined poofs, he offers this gem:
“All this talk lately of gay marriage has served as quite the catalyst for contemplation. The first thought, the one that comes most readily to mind, is why any sensible person of whatever persuasion would aspire to a relationship in which one partner is immediately and formally recognised by salesmen at paint stores and furniture emporiums as enjoying the last word on decor and decoration. So, too, with shoes, for if gay marriage is to attain an equal footing with the heterosexual model, then one partner’s collection of brogues and Blundstones will need to be, if the Billabong’s non-metaphoric closets are any indication, greater by a factor of forty.”
I can put his mind at rest. Judicious selection of a gay partner with roughly the same measurements – including footsize – simply doubles the existing wardrobe potential available to both, with no further purchasing required! “Find a live-in boyfriend and double your wardrobe!” as they say in Darlinghurst.