On Friday, after going to the Best Gym in the World Ever, everything else is bound to be a disappointment. So in order to make ourselves feel better we go to Reykjavik University and check that out. Nothing much is happening at Reykjavik University (I don’t know where all the students are) but they’re selling some nice Reykjavik University merchandise so Scott buys a t-shirt and a hoodie and I buy a t-shirt.
This t-shirt is the only thing that I buy in Iceland, apart from a gym bag which I bought at World Class gym, which is black and says World Class Iceland with red writing on it, and it looks really cheap and is likely to fall apart in 3 weeks, but I love it and it’s my new everyday gym bag.
Then on the way back to the hotel we play around some lake that we come across and we take the following picture:
In the evening (our last evening) we decide that maybe we should check out the local nightlife / gay scene. The guide book that we’ve brought with us mentions that Reykjavik only has one gay bar, so we don’t have much choice but to go there. This sounds very promising already of course, so I make some quick calculations to estimate the size of the gay population of Reykjavik.
- Reykjavik has 130,000 people
- 52% of the world’s population is female, which leaves us with 62,400 men.
- Approximately 10% of the male population is gay, which leaves us with 6,240 gay men.
- About 18% of the population in Northern Europe is aged under 18 so they can’t go to bars, which leaves as with 5,117 gay men
- About 56% of the population in Northern Europe is aged over 35 so they’re probably bored of gay bars, which leaves us with 1,622
- This is an estimation but maybe 1 in 5 gay men is not out, which leaves us with 1,298 out gay men
- Again an estimation but maybe 1 in 3 gay men is in a relationship so he stays at home watching Frasier repeats with his boyfriend
Which leaves us with 865 single gay men aged 18 to 35 living in Reykjavik and ready to go out and have wild times on a Friday night.
Well I don’t know where those 865 guys hang out, but it’s not at Q Bar in Reykjavik town centre. At 2230 we walk in and sit at the bar and I get a cranberry juice and Scott gets an orange juice and for the next 15 minutes we listen to a soundtrack of the Supremes singing all their hits and the only other people in the bar are:
a) A clearly underage barman with a polite enough manner. Actually too polite, he would never cut it in London.
b) A very old American guy also sitting at the bar and drinking himself to a gentle coma, presumably touring Europe on his own, in the hope to find wide-eyed, impressionable young boys who are willing to spend the night with him for a quick buck. His plan fell apart once it became apparent that the dollar is at its weakest since 1967, and none of the Euro twinks are impressed anymore. Now he’s spending his holiday getting pissed and counting down the days until he can catch his flight back to his partner of 45 years who stayed in Florida, begrudging him for wanting some distance. “You’re suffocating me Tony. I need to see the world, I feel like I’m running out of time” he said before he left.
c) Two English guys chatting in a corner, one of them wearing thick framed, deliberately geeky prescription glasses, beige corduroy trousers and a blue charity shop sweater and the other one a content but disinterested expression. They came to live in Reykjavik for 3 months for its cool, offbeat charm but are starting to miss Whimpy burgers, an easy access to Belle & Sebastian 7-inch singles and The Guardian’s Friday review section that consolidated their relationship back in Brighton. They will fly back in two and a half weeks, split up and fall out over who keeps the original Freda Payne vinyls that are now gathering dust behind the sofa
Scott and I have a quick brainstorm about what our options are (get trashed on GHB, strip down to our underwear, pass out on the dancefloor / stay until anyone decent turns up wasting money on a selection of soft drinks), we decide it’s best to go back to the hotel. We go to bed at 0100, wake up at 0500, get a bus to the airport, leave Iceland.
So that was my holiday. I thoroughly enjoyed going there and I enjoyed writing about it too. I have another week off work in the beginning of December. Maybe I should go somewhere again. My top destinations are:
Is anyone reading from those places? Can you buy me a flight there please? Or put me up? One of the two, I’m not fussy. Email me at email@example.com
Right, this is all about the BLR 07 competition then. Thanks to the 23 people who played along and had a sense of fun and sent their pictures in. Out of those, we have come up with a shortlist of 6, but more of that later.
Before that, a special mention does need to go to the two people who sent in fake pictures. I’m not sure what the motivation behind this might be, but it’s very entertaining. I mean OK fine, let’s pretend I am daft enough to think these are real entries and I put these people forward for the vote. So what if they “win”? Who gains anything out of that? Is it all about the £10 I’m offering?
If anyone can help and enlighten me why somebody would go into the effort of finding a fake picture of a handsome guy on the internet and forwarding it to my competition, please do, because I don’t get it.
Anyway, as I said it’s very entertaining, so here’s some more info on the fake entries.
For the first fake entry I receive two pictures (one headshot of a very handsome guy with model good looks and one shirtless shot of the same guy showing off perfect abs / tan / muscle tone). Sadly, the downfall of this participant is that he signs his email as “A__” (a quite common male name) but unfortunately he has neglected to also set up a fake email to go along with this, so the email arrives under the name “T__”. Not to mention that he tells me he’s from Preston in the north of England, when the pictures are taken in what is clearly taken in an American domestic environment (trust me, I have lived here for 10 years, I can tell what the inside of a northern English home looks like in comparison to an American one).
I email this guy back with “Please don't take this the wrong way, this is really you in the pictures right? Of course I have no reason not to believe it, but if that's you, you are extremely attractive. Just wanting to make sure before you actually win this thing and then you tell me it was a joke! (PS. Sorry again I have to ask, if anything if that's really you this can only be taken as a compliment)”.
Sadly “A__” / “T__” never writes back to me, so he’s out.
For the second fake entry I receive six (!) pictures of a very muscly and very attractive redheaded guy, who positively informs me that “I can show his face without a red box, as no one knows him over here”. This guy calls himself T__. Unfortunately for T__ it’s even easier for me to eliminate his entry this time, and I don’t even have to enforce my inter-continental domestic decor knowledge. These pictures of the beefy ginger guy have been around on the internet for years, and I distinctly remember wanking over them during ages 18 to 20.
Anyway, sorry I’m not posting the real contestants today, but I’ve run out of space. Definitely tomorrow.
I have 2 songs by En Vogue and I've played them 34 times
I have 1 song by the Engine Room and I've played it 7 times
I have 8 songs by Enigma and I've played them 34 times