Man's World

PRAISE FOR RUPERT SMITH

‘I was startled and fascinated by Man’s World in which Rupert Smith draws a meticulously researched, thought-provoking comparison between gay life in London of the repressive 1950s and in the hedonistic present. The impact and significance of this accomplished novel has to do with the way it suggests how much has changed for the liberal better while showing what damage to themselves and others narcissistic gay pleasureseekers still do’ Nicholas de Jongh

‘A very good writer, and his novel looks at the lives of gay men both in the present day, and 50 years ago – so much has changed, so much hasn’t’ Stella Duffy

‘A writing talent that is distinct, absorbing and witty … A sensational book, funny, smart and compelling’ Attitude

‘Man’s World has a great deal to say about friendship, solidarity and being true to yourself. That it does so in such a witty and warmhearted way is testament to Smith’s ability to spin an engrossing story … A delightfully funny book that is both moving and thought-provoking’ Cathode Ray Tube

‘Sharp observations of character and situation, and some classic one-liners to remember’ Chroma

‘Smith’s new novel examines gay life in London in a particularly inspired way’ DNA Magazine

‘His most ambitious novel to date … As befits a writer who loves gay history but is very much part of gay culture in 2010, Smith brings both worlds vividly to life’ QX

‘A witty page-turner’ Gay About Town

‘A smashing book’ Paul O’Grady

‘Lethally accurate, spitefully funny and occasionally genuinely chilling’ Charles Spencer, Sunday Telegraph

‘Hilarious showbiz satire … A riotous romp’ Christina Patterson, Observer

‘Pacey, funny and cheerfully vulgar’ Kate Saunders, The Times

‘Hugely ambitious and deliciously witty’ Paul Burston, Time Out

Man’s World

RUPERT SMITH

For Marcus

and

In memory of Tim Clark

Contents

Praise
Title Page
Dedication
01
One
02
Two
03
Three
04
Four
05
Five
06
Six
07
Seven
08
Eight
09
Nine
10
Ten
11
Acknowledgements
About the Author
Copyright

01

Jonathan was supposed to meet me at nine o’clock this morning, but he turns up at eleven with some story about how he went out with his yoga teacher last night and they ended up getting drunk in Soho and going back to the yoga teacher’s house, where Jonathan spent the night, and now of course he is being quite coy about what if anything actually happened. I’ve said all along that the only reason he got into yoga is so he can keep his legs in the air for extended periods of time.

By the time Jonathan actually turns up I’ve started loading the van myself. I’m going up and down in the lift completely knackering myself, although on the third or fourth trip I realise that it’s actually like an extra session at the gym and is working my quads, glutes, calves and hip flexors quite hard, not to mention burning a lot of calories, which is no bad thing because I had pizza last night. And even though I only really ate the cheese and pepperoni and mushrooms off the top, and threw the base into the bin, I’m sure that I accidentally had some bread, which means I broke the most important rule of all: no carbs after five p.m. So I start using the stairs instead of the lift, and it’s taking ages longer than it’s meant to, not least because I’m doing it on my own, but when I’ve done about ten trips I take a photo of my abs on my phone and they are looking really defined, so in fact when Jonathan arrives I’m not cross with him at all but in quite a good mood.