Straight is in a club that’s built into the railways arches, so you get an instant sense of claustrophobia, which adds greatly to the air of illegality that we all seem to crave. The main room is long and dark with a stage set up at one end in the shape of a boxing ring, complete with ropes. Stuart is greeting people at every step, kissing and hugging and whispering, he seems to know every single person in the club, and all I can think is that if this lot are straight then I don’t hold out much hope for the continuation of the human race.

Time seems to have collapsed because before I know it the lights are glaring down on the boxing ring, all the seats around us are taken, there’s a sound of roaring in the air and I have a very sore mouth, as if someone’s been sandpapering it. Stuart too is looking a bit chafed around the lower face, and I realise that we’ve been kissing violently for a very long time, and we have our hands down each other’s trousers, but I’m relieved to say that I haven’t come, in fact I feel completely anaesthetised from the waist downwards.

A couple of young men are skipping around the ring in boots and satin dressing gowns, but there the resemblance to boxers ends, because they both have sculpted eyebrows and careful hair. The referee is a drag queen who seems to be in every club in London every night of the week, and she’s doing some spiel about ‘hitting below the belt’ and ‘getting licked in the ring’ which the contenders don’t seem to understand. Then someone rings a bell, the drag queen climbs out of the ring and gives us all a good view of her gusset, and the dressing gowns come off and, surprise, surprise, they’re naked underneath. There’s a loud cheer and they start dabbing at each other with their boxing gloves, like kittens. The drag queen is running around squirting baby oil into the ring, and soon the boys have slipped over and are wrestling on the floor and having sex.

This doesn’t interest me greatly, although Stuart seems quite keen, so I go for a walk to clear my head. Whatever drug he gave me in the cab is wearing off, and I feel restless and anxious. In the adjacent arch, the lights are out and the music is at ear-splitting volume. I step inside, and there are hands all over me, drawing me in, and I feel a couple of penises brushing against my hands.

I step out smartly and go to the toilet, but I can’t pee because I am still erect, although I really don’t feel at all horny now. There’s a guy at the urinal next to me, wanking away furiously, glaring at me with a horrible hunger in his eyes, and I recognise Sauna Slut from the gym, but he doesn’t recognise me because he has that glassy, unseeing look that you get in a dying rabbit.