don't ask; don't tell

According to an article in the Australian Journal of Popular Culture, there existed a homosexual sub-culture among Australian servicemen, particularly in Newcastle, during World War Two. And – this is now seared in my mind – one of the markers, one of the little signs they gave one another - to say “psst, Barry, I’m one of the under-the-streetlight-brigade too” - was wearing certain articles of clothing subtly different from what was then the norm. Yes, my friends, the love that dare not speak its name dared to wear argyle socks! Now, I read this in an article published c. late 1990s. The author failed to outline his/her methodology (or I conveniently skipped over that bit) but source information on such matters would be hard to find; there would be no contemporary newspaper articles, memoirs etc. And I suspect that given the timing of publication of said article the original source material may well have been army documents declassified under the 50 year rule. With a nod to Python/Blackadder, and anyone else I may have ripped off, I suspect these documents read something like:

TOP SECRET: FOR COLONEL AND ABOVE EYES ONLY

MEMO: MEETING, 16th JULY 1943

PRESENT: Colonels Barnaby, Carruthers, Smyth-Forbes, Captain Larkins

Larkins: “Sirs, I have finished the report into the men’s off-duty activities that you requested.”
Carruthers: “Jolly good, Larkins. What’s the gist of it, man?”
Larkins: “Well, sir, I’ll come right out with it. One very disturbing fact came to light. There appears to be a spot of un-Army like behaviour going on among some of the men in the 4th Light.”
Smyth-Forbes: “Un-Army like behaviour? Whatever do you mean, man?”
Larkins: “Uh, yes, sir, some of the men are doing things….”
Barnaby: “Yes, yes, doing things?”
Larkins: “Yes, sir, that is, they’re indulging in, shall we say, certain, uh, French activities.”
Smyth-Forbes: “Ah, well, that’s not so bad. Good soldier the Froggy. Just the officers give them a bad name. Gunga Din’d on cheap plonk by lunch time, most of ‘em.”
Larkins: “Quite, sir. But what I mean is, some of our men are, um, doing things in the French way.”
Barnaby: “Well, yes, can’t have that, I suppose. Very disorganised, is old Pierre. So tell the men to sharpen up.”
Larkins: “Yes, but sir, that is to say, that this is an after dark sort of French thing.”
Carruthers: “Damn it man, stop with the French. Fought alongside some of ‘em at Breton Woods. Not bad in a stoush, Jean-Paul. Like to stick it right up the old Bosch.”
Larkins: “Yes, sir, that’s exactly it.”
Smyth-Forbes: “I still don’t see what your concern is Larkins.”
Larkins: “Sirs, it’s just that, well, some of the diggers are doing things that are a little less than manly. Not wholesome, if you see what I mean.”
Carruthers: “Well, damn it Larkins, what are you implying? Less that manly? Not wholesome? You know I lost my leg at Villeneuve. Stepped on one of Jerry’s exploding tin cans. I suppose I’m less than less than manly, am I?”
Larkins: “No sir, that’s not it. Let me explain…”

&c.

*******

Gentle readers, I did not want to turn this into one of them conspiracy sites, but I’d like to draw your attention to a news item I espied today:

Kelly Katrina Hildebrandt of Florida is marrying Kelly Carl Hildebrandt of Texas.

Here’s the happy couple:





They met after she googled her own name, found Kelly Carl and began corresponding. Cupid took it from there.

“I totally think that it's all God’s timing,” says Kelly Katrina Hildebrandt said. “He planned it out just perfect.”

FUCK!!!

I totally don’t know about this. Can it be right? God’s plans for his flock include us marrying people with the same name? Where does it say this in the Bible? Did Thomas Aquinas know this shit? And how can I be expected to find – let alone marry – someone called a very competent historian?

Is Kelly Katrina some kinda holy mystic 33rd level Kabala priestess? Maybe she knows the secret names of Ya HoWa? Maybe she knows a whole lotta stuff and she aint tellin.’

Kellys [is that the plural?], give it up for the people.

Totally.