You know those nights where you are mysteriously popular? When you find yourself the centre of attraction, the belle of the ball, and can't figure out why? Why this particular evening? Is it this shirt? My hair? Am I giving off special pheromones?

I had one of those evenings on Saturday. Marcus and I went to Queer Nation in Brixton. As I put it the next day, "I had more black men sniffing round me than a Dalston crackhouse!" Fortunately, Marcus was more amused than anything else.