Welcome to yet another glorious (in someone's opinion, maybe) episode of Happiness Patrol, a Fanzine for Lesbian and Gay Doctor Who Fans and Friends-in case you didn't read the cover and bought this without knowing what it was (10 or so sheltered fans simultaneosly drop the fanzine and run screaming). Well, to those of you who are left, we hope you all had a Fabulously enjoyable Sydney Gay and Lesbian Mardi Gras Festival, and have all dismissed the glimmer of hope that one day us Doctor Who fans could have a float in the Parade. Don't worry, it's a normal post-Parade feeling... everyone focuses on the outrageous excitement of one Saturday night, forgetting the hopeless disorganised structure of fandom. Will we ever learn? (Ask us the day after the 1998 Parade).

Yes, we're back... and in some minds, it's about time.

This issue we explore a number of issues, and have a bit of fun along the way. We've expanded the base of writers and artists who have contributed to this episode, and thanks go to each and every one of them. Don't forget that you are all welcome to write in with what you think about the various issues, etc, that are raised by this fanzine... or anything at all, really, that's related to being a gay or lesbian Doctor Who fan.

Finally-warning, politics ahead-while things have certainly improved in mainland Australia for gays and lesbians in recent times, and while we may want to forget the serious stuff, the fact is that proclaiming our sexuality the way we have is a political act. There are a number of newspaper clippings about the place in this episode that serve to remind us just how far we have to go. There are a myriad of different issues that concern us, and many we haven't even begun to explore.

And this episode is the "Mardi Gras" episode-and that, too, is something to think about.

"Ainderby Quernhow (n.)

One who continually bemoans the 'loss' of the word 'gay' to the English language, even though they had never used the word in any context at all until they started complaining that they couldn't use it anymore." From page 4 of the The Deeper Meaning of Liff by Douglas Adams and John Lloyd (thanks to Neil Hogan for sending this to us)

"One other niggle was the discussion with the past and present presidents of the Doctor Who Club. Somebody raised the question about the number of gays and lesbians who are involved in the organisation of fan clubs. Hell that's news to me. I didn't know you had to be a homosexual to like Doctor Who. I'll get my mum to knit me one now! Okay, it's an old joke, but I didn't like seeing a number of people trying to impose their personal sexual politics onto what was originally a show for kids."

Mark Allen, Data Extract # 124

The trouble with being ignorant and possessing a PC is that you can make a bigger fool of yourself than you ever realised was possible. Mark Allen has been kind enough to provide us with an example.

Mr Allen had a problem with the presidents panel on the Monday of WhoVention 3. He seemed to think it was inappropriate that people were happy to talk openly about their sexuality. He clearly has no problem with adults generally enjoying Doctor Who (being one himself), interpreting it in their own adult way and seeing things they can relate to in the show. So why should he have a problem with poofs and dykes doing the same?

It must be that good ol' we're-going-to-take-over-the-world-by-recruiting-all-the-kiddies conspiracy again. Of course he didn't actually say that, he just said he had a problem with people "imposing their personal sexual politics" onto a kids show. However look carefully and you can see that "all gay men are paedophiles" argument looming on the horizon. The idea of adult poofs and dykes and kiddies (who may or may not be gay themselves, remember) enjoying the same program and being able to relate to it seems to make some people uncomfortable.

That aside, it does raise another very interesting question, far more interesting than why so many poofs and dykes are running fan clubs. After all, that one's obvious: we're far more organised and we've got more style. But what about fans? Why are so many poofs and dykes fans of Doctor Who?

This is something I've pondered on a little myself, and really, the concept of the Doctor as a gay role model is not as ludicrous as people like Mr Allen believe it to be.

Television is a powerful medium. The Australian Government were not overreacting when they had a Royal Commission in 1948 to decide whether or not Australia should have television. They understood the power it has to teach, to inform and ultimately to influence people's values and change society (remember, television changed the course of the Vietnam War). And who watches the most television in our society? Children do, when they are at precisely that age when they are forming their own set of values and beliefs. Parents like to believe that they have the biggest influence on their children in this respect, but really, kids spend far more time with their electronic baby-sitter than with their parents.

Whether they intend to or not, all television programs teach values of some kind. Unfortunately they're usually values like violence is a solution to your problems, and power is demonstrated through violence. What does Doctor Who teach us?

The Doctor is a pacifist. He abhors violence and violent solutions because the lives of your "enemies" are just as precious as the lives of your friends. He refuses to see everything in black and white, often searching for a middle ground, a compromise that will see everyone survive. The only hatred he holds is hatred for abusers of power and those that lust after it. In a way, he is a socialist. Most important of all, he looks beyond the surface to see what is underneath. In short, the Doctor teaches us the value of tolerance and understanding, of appreciating the differences between races (human or alien), rather than fearing them.

While we don't all share the same politics, I'm sure many of us share the values outlined above. Without them, our chances of ever be accepted as human beings by the rest of society are practically non-existent. The Doctor is the only fictional hero I can think of who espouses these values, which explains why so many poofs and dykes find him acceptable as a hero and role model. Which is good, because role models for us are few and far between.

Some of us would have felt this way long before we realised our sexuality, and some of us afterwards. I know that for me personally, I liked Doctor Who as a child for the same reasons I do now. I liked the way the Doctor didn't take the easy, violent way out of a problem. I liked the way he would never sacrifice even one life to save thousands, because even one was too many. I liked the way he disagreed with the Brigadier, demonstrating that those on "our" side are not always right either.

I don't believe watching Doctor Who turns us into poofs and dykes-that would really be a kind of magic. However I do believe that as children we think critically of the concepts and values we see in the world around us. Doctor Who attracted me because I liked the values it taught me. As an openly lesbian adult, my continued enjoyment of the show stems from the fact that the Doctor is a hero I can truly admire. I see in the Doctor a reflection of many of my own values and feelings, and the number of poofs and dykes who are into the show proves that others feel the same.

No other program is screened in as many countries, with fans of all ages from literally dozens of races and cultures, with vastly different religious backgrounds and political beliefs. And although certain hetero individuals may not like the idea, to add "sexualities" to that list is merely to make it complete.

"Oh, to be Out, to be Out!"

I was thinking of writing a Letter of Comment (a LoC), but I think it's ended up more like a Letter Inducing Comment (a LiC)-oooh, sounds exciting doesn't it? I'm actually hoping someone will reply for the next episode of HP, either flaming me or merely shedding some more light on the subject. And the subject is?... Melbourne's desire to be Out (insert gasps of horror and incredulity here).

There's a theory going around (not just in Sydney) that Melbourne fandom is just bursting to jump outta that TARDIS, not unlike Sydney fandom 3 years ago. Sydney also used to be in the awkward situation of certain people knowing certain other people were gay but not knowing that anyone else knew (it really isn't as complicated as it sounds). So everyone was tip-toeing around, too afraid/confused to say anything, and not realising just how much they had in common.

Is that what Melbourne fandom is currently like?

Not living in Melbourne certainly raises some doubts as to the validity of me writing this, but it is after all just a thought, not a fact. However, being so far removed may actually make it easier for "us" to see the what's really going on. Gradually news of various Melbourne fans being gay seeps through to Sydney, and whether or not each of the rumours are true, it does make one think-if Sydney-siders, being so far away from the actual source, are still aware of fan-after-fan popping out of the closet (or at least admitting it to someone), I wonder just how many more there are who we are not aware of? Who Melbourne fandom is not aware of? How many of you are there in Melbourne, thinking you're all alone, but really surrounded by a "camp" of others? A "camp" of others? Ooh, I think I've coined a new term-a "camp" of gay boys, and a... well, nothing original here-a "pack" of dykes (there's just no improving on that one). Anyway, back to it. I only hope that the reason Melbourne is still so closeted is only because there hasn't been the right time to emerge, and not because it is impossible for them to do so. Well, now is the perfect time to go and tell all those other people you're a closet... "Horns of Nimon" fan. Carpe Diem... Seize the day!

See, I'm what would be considered a Doctor Who neophyte and apart from a delusional friend in Year 4 who would tap on every tree he could find (to see if it was the TARDIS) I had almost no exposure to the series. Anyway, my question is-

Why did the good Doctor never make it to the big time?

Sure, he's popular with some sci-fi fans, but he has never enjoyed mainstream popularity. It can't have been the cardboard sets and questionable acting skills fo the cast because Star Trek had both in abundance and enjoyed a more mainstream audience. Could it be because it is British? I don't think so. James Bond was British to the core and also had bad sets and worse acting, and look at its popularity.

So, what could it be? What do all these terrible yet popular shows (Baywatch, Melrose Place, etc...) have that Who did not?

The answer is SEX! or sexual tension. Even shows with excellent production values such as X Files and Star Trek: the Next Generation have at least a touch of sex in them. But because the Doctor didn't get to play nurse with anyone, his popularity suffered.

Imagine, if you will, Tegan whinging and whining (I know that's hard to do, but do try) then the Doctor walks to her and seals her mouth with his and they make wild love on the funny computer thing with the thing that goes up and down in the middle. Or, better yet, Ian and Ixta (the Aztec warrior) reveal their true feelings and instead of fighting escape into the deep dark jungle.

And think of what could have been done with Paradise Towers...

Marty

Dear Sarah and Mel

I just kidnapped D--- G------'s copy of Happiness Patrol (he was reading it in the cafeteria at lunch), and thought it was really good.

I'll definitely try to find time to write something about it. I was thinking about maybe writing something about how people reacted to D--- and myself reading it in the cafe-it got a lot of interest, but people seemed to have a confused (if that makes any sense) attitude towards it. They seemed to want to treat it as just another fanzine, but they couldn't quite manage to do this, even though they thought it was really good. Most of them aren't fans of Doctor Who, either, so that wouldn't help.

Oh well... I'll definitely write something about this, and get back to you.

Anyway, I hope you get a really good response to Happiness Patrol, it certainly deserves one.

Cheers,

Polly

"We are, please God, a nation of very fierce, proud rabbits." Francis Urquhart, To Play the King

Warning:

This article is rated M, for viewing by mature adults aged 15 and over. It contains:

A-Adult Themes

S-Sexual References

E-Embarrassing Intimate Discussion of Personal Issues

'In the evenings, the Doctor would serve a mug of something hot, and he and Ace would talk about history and politics and science. Then he would say that he had some loose ends to tie up, and bid her goodnight' (Timewyrm: Revelation)

Gay men can get really fucked up in their attitudes towards sex.

This is not to say that straight men are not fucked up in their attitudes towards sex. Or straight women, or dykes come to that. In fact, everyone's fucked up about sex. But poofters have particular institutions and ways of learning about sex that fuck them up in specific and interesting ways. In particular, there's something about the relationship between sex and intimacy.

And beats. Especially beats.

Kate Orman has suggested that one of the things that leads gay men to Doctor Who is the fact that the program doesn't shove heterosexuality down your throat. Unlike Star Trek, where you have to be either really dense not to notice the relentless straight romance that seems to inform every storyline, or really ingenious in producing subtextual readings on the slightest of clues ('No, honestly, Crusher and Troi are lovers-they're totally butch-femme'), Doctor Who has never forced characters into heterosexual clinches.

This is important. It's not important simply because this allows space to make easy readings of poofter activity in the program. I don't really care if the fifth Doctor and Adric ever had sex-even though we never saw anything on the screen that would explicitly contradict that possibility. In fact, I care so little about it that I can honestly say that the idea had never even occurred to me until I wrote it down just now. It's not important. The fact that Dibber might be an arse bandit appeals more, but that's an exception. And yes, I did once buy a fanzine just because it had a picture of Jason Connery topless on the front of it. But that's not the point.

The point is that Doctor Who has offered the possibility of relationships outside of sex. Intimate, caring, life-completing relationships that don't involve genitalia. The kind of relationship between Ace and the Doctor, for example.

Beats are a specialised part of poofter culture. Straight men and women don't have beats. Neither do dykes. The possibility of going to a quiet location and having sex with a complete stranger-quickly, relatively cleanly and with no embarrassing conversation afterwards-is a boon that only our culture seems to have developed. And its place in that culture should not be underestimated. Take something like glory holes, for example. The concept of glory holes was developed in a situation where if two men actually got into the same toilet cubicle, they were likely to be arrested for gross indecency and beaten up by police. So you drill a hole in the toilet wall large enough for a penis, or an arm (or even, in some of the more spectacular cases, an entire human head). This facilitates quick, efficient sexual contact that won't lead to an embarrassing criminal record.

But emerging from sheer and painful necessity, such sexual practices have evolved into a kind of aesthetic of sex in gay male culture. In the safe commercial spaces of sex-on-premises venues, bizarre decor is set up specifically to replicate the glory hole culture of beat sex. Special cubicles are created, holes drilled in their sides, their sole purpose to facilitate sex where you can't see whose lips are on your dick. No expense is spared to create a safe, comfortable (expensive) environment in which gay men can perform exactly the same kind of anonymous sex that we find in parks and public toilets.

This is not to say that gay men can't establish loving, intimate long term sexual relationships. And it's not to say that every poofter does the beats.

But it is to say that our culture has a possibility of thinking about sex in different ways, ways that are facilitated by our history and our commercial venues. We have access to a reality in which sex is cheap, plentiful and completely meaningless (for straight men, as far as I can gather, this is largely a fantasy). Sex can be cheap, plentiful, completely meaningless-and devoid of any kind of intimacy.

On top of this, add the fact that we live in a culture which generally does not validate intimacy between men and men, or between women and women. God knows, I hate the concept of marriage, and if I ever do end up at an altar, it's going to be bound hand and foot as some kind of sacrifice. But in a culture where marriage is seen to be the ultimate end point of human existence (or at least an important part of it, leading to and intimately tied up with having babies, buying a house and investing in a really good lawnmower), the fact that both the law and public opinion still deny the possibility and validity of queer marriages means that there are no immediate and obvious models for us about how we're going to perform our intimacy. The public image of intimate sexual relationships-marriage-is denied to us.

Ace and the Doctor are not married.

I'm trying to make sense of why I can watch seasons twenty five and twenty six over and over, and each time I get to the end of 'Survival', there's something inside me that kicks and cries out. Why is it that the relationships between the Doctor and his companions are just so special? What is it that makes the kiss between Grace and the eighth Doctor so completely wrong that I have to pretend it doesn't exist if I want to retain my sense of all that Doctor Who is?

Ace would give her life for the Doctor. The Doctor would give his life for Ace. In (often monogamous) relationships over the decades, the Doctor has spent years with his companions. The relationships he has developed with them have been intense, demanding, all-consuming. Of course the best way for a companion to leave the show was to fall in love: they couldn't bring their partners on board. The relationship between Doctor and companion transcended anything that mere sex could establish. The Doctor/companion relationships were life defining, life changing, live giving.

If you learn your sex on the beats-as many gay men do-then it's not surprising if you imagine a relationship between sex and intimacy which is less than direct. Whereas heterosexual women, for example, are still told in endless Bride magazines that virginal white is the thing to be wearing when you devote yourself to love and honour (and obey) the man of your choice, that's not something that beat culture teaches you. Sex doesn't mean intimacy.

And, by simple logic, intimacy doesn't mean sex. The latter can become so divorced from the former that sex gets in the way of intimacy, rather than cementing, confirming or promoting it. It can be more intimate to spend a night with someone and not have sex, than it is to get naked and do the horizontal bootscoot.

The Doctor and Ace don't have sex. They have a relationship which is more intimate than any conventional marriage. They rely on each other: they are, literally, each others' worlds: they take nothing else with them from one planet to the next. If you've learned from beats that sex doesn't guarantee the kind of intimacy that so much of culture tells you that sex is supposed to guarantee, then Doctor Who's image of a relationship without sex can be a tempting and beautiful possibility. Sexual relationships on television look false: you always know that it's never going to work. They'll fall out of love, they'll be rooting someone else in a week, they don't really love each other. Sex and intimacy? Pah.

But the Doctor and Ace: a kind of love that doesn't merely involve gonads and mess, something that lasts without the petty physical involvement-that is something more. That is a relationship that might justify all of the crap that's sung in top ten hits about how falling in love makes life worth living, makes everything worth while. The Doctor makes life worth living: if you've done the beats you know that sex doesn't. The hot cocoa and the talking about politics, history, science, isn't just the cup of coffee before a quick root.

So there's the thesis: the strong, loving, trusting relationship between the Doctor and Ace is one of the only ones on television where the partners aren't rooting, or hoping to root, or looking for a way to root. It's a relationship which is emotional, intimate, committed and vitally important, above and beyond sex. It does not rely on sex. And for a gay man whose learned about sex from beat culture, whose been jaded on sex by beat culture, it is the most incredibly attractive version of human relationships.

Or perhaps I'm just a bitter old queen. take nothing else with them from one planet to the next. If you've learned from beats that sex doesn't guarantee the kind of intimacy that so much of culture tells you that sex is supposed to guarantee, then Doctor Who's image of a relationship without sex can be a tempting and beautiful possibility. Sexual relationships on television look false: you always know that it's never going to work. They'll fall out of love, they'll be rooting someone else in a week, they don't really love each other. Sex and intimacy? Pah.

But the Doctor and Ace: a kind of love that doesn't merely involve gonads and mess, something that lasts without the petty physical involvement-that is something more. That is a relationship that might justify all of the crap that's sung in top ten hits about how falling in love makes life worth living, makes everything worth while. The Doctor makes life worth living: if you've done the beats you know that sex doesn't. The hot cocoa and the talking about politics, history, science, isn't just the cup of coffee before a quick root.

So there's the thesis: the strong, loving, trusting relationship between the Doctor and Ace is one of the only ones on television where the partners aren't rooting, or hoping to root, or looking for a way to root. It's a relationship which is emotional, intimate, committed and vitally important, above and beyond sex. It does not rely on sex. And for a gay man whose learned about sex from beat culture, whose been jaded on sex by beat culture, it is the most incredibly attractive version of human relationships.

Or perhaps I'm just a bitter old queen.

Did you know that there's a hierarchy of sexual abuse? It's clearly defined, with certain types being much, much worse than others.

The worst is when an older man sexually abuses a younger man, or boy (defined as under 18 by the Wood Royal Commission in NSW). The least bad-hardly worth bothering about, really-is when a male client doesn't pay for a female prostitute's services. And the whole concept of a husband raping his wife is surely a contradiction in terms as the wife is supposed to love, honour and obey her husband. Besides, they got married, so surely they wanted to have sex-it's consensual by the very act of getting married.

You would be forgiven if you thought the above was true, especially if you'd been following-even casually-recent news. Paedophilia, pedophilia, (boy) child sexual abuse-whatever you want to call it-is treated like a crime against humanity. It's considered evil incarnate. The barest taint that you might be a pederast or a paedophile is enough to exonerate your accuser, even if there isn't a shred of evidence against you.

And it is evil. Abhorrent. It scars the victim/s for life.

But the same goes for sexual abuse of any kind.

So what's this got to do with Doctor Who? Mr Allen in Data Extract (see page 3 for the relevant paragraph) has accused us of foisting a sexual agenda on a kids' show. I don't think that Doctor Who was ever a kids' show, but that's a moot point. And, indeed, as no one even had sex in the series sexual abuse per se doesn't have much to do with the series.

But it has heaps to do with fandom.

Back in the May 1995 edition of Strange Matter (# 13) there was an article published by Andrew McKinna called "When the Shit Hits the Fans Part II: Dweebdom". The entire article was a confused rant about Doctor Who fandom, and included the following assertion that "you cannot be a truly certified fan unless you are homosexual. ... I don't have a problem with that at all, but it's always going to be something the media is very interested in. They view fandom as being odd enough in itself, but for it to be odd and queer? They'll have the proverbial field day. What I do have a problem with is paedophilia" (my emphasis).

Yes, there's that linking, and this time with the accusation that "at least two leading Doctor Who fan clubs in one state knowingly allow confirmed paedophiles to associate themselves unsupervised and alone with young members." I have to say that Andrew's full story, learned directly from him through correspondence and a follow-up article in Bog Off! X, was a lot less of a gay-bash and more of a powerful expose. I know his experiences affected him, just as I know that other experiences within fandom have affected other fans. A friend of mine, when she was 17, had great difficultly explaining what "no" means to a guy who was 20. The two had met at a fan meeting, shared some interests, and he thought that was all he needed to have a shag. Bzzzt! Wrong.

Both are, I hate to say it, fairly common in life in and out of fandom-and it shouldn't be common anywhere.

The problem inherent in Andrew's article and other things I've read recently is the automatic linking of sexual abuse to sexual preference. Statistics show that most child sexual abuse is perpetrated by straight men, and even when they are abusing boys they still identify as heterosexual. As feminists often cry, rape isn't about sex-it's about power. Yes, there are gay men who sexually abuse others. We'd be stupid to deny it. There are also dykes who abuse lesbians, and straights who abuse each other.

The danger lies in when people start throwing the word 'paedophile' around. Two things happen: first, the idea that all gay men sexually abuse children gains currency; and secondly there is confusion over how paedophilia is defined. The Wood Royal Commission into Police Corruption in NSW has defined a child as someone under the age of 18. A man of 19 in a fully consensual relationship with a 'boy' of 17 could be arrested as a paedophile when really he is only breaking the discriminatory age of consent laws in NSW.

It's that which stinks.

If a man of 19 sexually abuses a boy of 17 then he should be arrested-but as a sexual abuser, not a 'paedophile'. The bandying about of such terms only confuses the very real and terrible issue of sexual abuse. It's sick that in our society 'paedophile' is a more emotive term than sexual abuser. Sexism and homophobia both play a role as to why, linking in with that hierarchy mentioned at the start of this piece. And also check out the image of the waist-coated (leather?) bear that adorns the cover of a recent book...

The age of consent laws, too, raise major questions. Fact is, some teenagers as young as 13 or 14 can be ready for fully consensual sex with another. Knowing that confuses the tabloid certainty somewhat. What if a kid of 15 wants sex with an older person? And then there's the inequality for gay men.

Rather than bickering about what's worse, we should be trying to stop sexual abuse in whatever form it takes.

How often do you find yourself watching a seemingly innocent (for innocent read straight) TV show when you're suddenly bombarded with homoerotic images (ie an intense queeron field, for you Trekkies)? Well, a couple of weeks ago I was experiencing this particular situation when a friend said, "Why must you think everyone on TV is gay?"-in an utterly disapproving tone, I might add. I'd have to say that I found this statement quite rude, though at the time I was too confused by the fact that the accusation was in fact coming from a dyke (albeit a "newby" dyke). Anyway it made me think (oh no, head's gonna explode, warp core breach imminent!).

I'm sure it's not just me. I think quite a number of gay people tend to focus on any vague (ie non-existent) gay aspects of TV characters for exactly the same reason everyone else believes TV characters are all straight-we are all searching for role models in the outside world, someone we can really relate to.

It's not like anyone ever gets pissed off at me because I want, and expect, Rachel and Ross from Friends to get together. I didn't hear anyone saying, "Why must you always assume these people are straight?"

The Celluloid Closet is a film that makes an important point (well, more than one point actually). It is fear of censorship that forces some film makers to purposely disguise the gay elements of their productions to avoid controversy, while secretly leaving a trail of clues for those of us "in the know"-those with established Gaydar. If you ever have the opportunity to see The Celluloid Closet I highly recommend it. Even if this whole academic analysis concept doesn't appeal, the film still gives you a hilarious insight, not only into some "well-known" gay films, but also into more closeted films like Ben-Hur and hundreds of ancient black and white romances.

The majority of straight people seem to put this whole psychological phenomena down to pathetic desperation on the part of homosexual people, and personally, sometimes I feel that way too. I can't help it. It's just like anything else, if society rams some idea hard enough into you, you eventually begin to see things their way. But I did say only sometimes... 99% of the time I'm perfectly content drooling over the likes of Scully or Ellen to bother myself with the logic of what I'm doing.

I THINK THERE'S SOMETHING IN THAT FOR ALL OF US, DON'T YOU?

This obsession with linking things to sexuality applies not only to TV, but to normal social interaction as well. Just the other day I watched myself desert a straight female friend of eight years, for a fleeting trivial conversation with a dyke I've only met once before. Oh, and there was no sexual attraction in it either.

We are like a whole different species, and it's natural for like-minded people to draw together. I think there is a certain ignorance of that fact in some parts of fandom, sure we're "all" Doctor Who fans, but it goes further than that-nobody is defined only as a Doctor Who fan, there are many other categories beneath that. There are Doctor Who fans who like heavy metal music as opposed to those who like classical music. These people will develop varying levels of friendships with other fans, the greatest of those friendships being with other fans who express the greatest number of interests in common with themselves. Hence the fact that fandom is segregated, and groups of fans sometimes go out together socially, not always as part of a "meeting". EFGness seems to be a common way of explaining why certain people are left out of certain gatherings, as some people cannot see the difference between a group of friends going out socially and a group of fans having a "meeting". Sydney fandom has had this problem and it all stems from a group of fans having bonded on another level as well as through Doctor Who, and therefore have taken their acquaintance and moved it to the next level, to become social friends. EFGness is an excuse, it's passé, get over it.

School can be hell at the best of times. And if you're not straight, it can be a lot worse. Even if you're firmly in the closet, getting through the days becomes an undercover operation where you have to hide your feelings, laugh along with the gay jokes, and do everything to convince them that you're 'normal'.

I was first called a lesbian when I was in kindergarten. My best friend and I had been walking around with our arms around each others' shoulders and suddenly one of the older kids called us lezzos. At that stage I didn't know what it meant, and I didn't know that I was attracted to women, but it still hurt. The guy ruined a perfectly innocent hug with my best friend... and that's set the scene for the way homosexuality has been talked about throughout my school career.

They didn't even get around to teaching us anything about homosexuality until I was 13 or 14. In Personal Development we did a unit on sex, which was supposed to include a section on "alternate" sexualities. Our teacher, who was also our principal, gave us a page of notes headed "Shame, Guilt, Sin" and left it at that.

By that stage I'd been called a lesbian a few times, mainly because there was an older girl who I idolised. I hung around her all the time, wrote to her, drew pictures of her... Eventually her friends got sick of me and started being bitchy. The most insulting thing they could come up with was "lemon" and it frightened me away. During this time, I was also the only girl doing Woodwork and Metalwork, and I'm surprised that the guys in the class didn't call me a dyke. Around this time we were taught in Religion that homosexuality was a 'disease' which could be 'cured' with electric-shock therapy.

Towards the end of high school I started noticing my feelings for women. Getting changed for PE lessons was a nightmare: I'd be so worried that girls would notice me looking at them so I made a point of Not Looking, which was probably even sillier. I fell in love with a girl from my Drama class and more than once she'd catch me staring at her, and make some kind of comment. One of my friends adored our Drama teacher and made a New Year's resolution to get him divorced from his wife, while I realised that I was worshipping one of my female teachers in a similar manner.

I realised that there was no way I could tell people this, though. I was at a private Catholic school, and as far as I know they're not bound by the anti-discrimination act. If a neighbouring Catholic school was able to expel a girl because she'd moved in with her boyfriend I was pretty sure that my school could (and probably would) kick me out for supposedly going against the Christian ethos of the school. So I kept my mouth shut.

At our school they have an annual Theatre Sports competition with teams form Year 11, Year 12, as well as a staff team and an ex-students team. Last year's ex- students called themselves the "University Gay and Thespian Club", but on the program it was magically shortened to "Uni Thespians". Not to be outdone, the team showed up on the night wearing t-shirts that had their full name on the front and-just to make it obvious-"It's a pun on the word 'lesbian'" on the back.

The people I hung around with at school weren't exactly gay-friendly, resulting from bad experiences with a (male) teacher at a previous school who like to help the guys tuck their shirts in. They made lots of gay jokes, and sometimes I'd laugh along, but sometimes I'd point out how flawed, biased and downright homophobic they were being. I never got up the guts to tell them about myself. The only school friend I ever told was our school captain when we were having lunch together after an HSC exam. He was speechless, which is really saying something, but he hasn't told anyone.

I actually consider myself lucky. No one ever suspected that I was anything but straight, and no one spread rumours about me. I haven't been called a lesbian lately, I haven't been threatened, and I haven't been bashed. But there was a price paid for my security. I couldn't comment on the women I found attractive, or speak out against those gay jokes, or challenge the things we learnt in Religion. Basically, I couldn't act the way I wanted. I couldn't be me.

I'm out of school now, but I know there are more gay people trapped there and I sympathise. Surviving school is stressful enough without having to hide who you are. In the schools I've been to there was no support for queer students-for the last two years, my school counsellor was a nun! It shouldn't have to be like this. I mean, aren't they supposed to be the best years of your life?

One thing I've found, since getting to know quite a few gay people through fandom, and understanding their 1 society, is that I've become disillusioned with my own.

My 'straight' society features thousands of belief systems that have no bearing on gay society. It means that I've lost interest in hundreds of different things.

This isn't a bad thing. The 'hundreds of different things' I was interested in weren't adapting to my openmindedness so they held no interest anymore.

I've stopped watching a lot of TV 2 because it's too straight and I've stopped socialising with groups of people who are too parochial or straight-minded (unless they're discussing group sex) 3. This does, of course, mean I develop an instant dislike of anyone who believes negative things regarding gay people and who aren't likely to change their mind 4.

I'm curious to know how gay people cope with this. I can see that, if I was gay, I'd be bitter and twisted like the Master and calling everyone "insolent primitives".

Is the fun that gay people put in fandom one of the releases for this pent up frustration? And, besides sex, what other avenues are there? How do you cope?

Some people have said that gay people are attracted to Doctor Who because the Doctor is like a gay icon in the sense that he has assistants and never attempts anything physical with them (that we've seen).

Straight men are attracted to the Doctor because he embodies the intellect surviving over strength. The Doctor appeals to the weak-but-mentally-able in us. The Doctor also represents what we'd like to see in a father. How do gay women see the Doctor? Is he like a grandfather?

But above all, the Doctor represents a society that is different from our own. A society that we can never hope to join. Rather than fag hags, the Doctor's female companions are intelligent pets. To be guided, to fetch the stick and come back when called, to be taught new tricks.

The Doctor is part of a society that is disliked, ridiculed or feared by other races. But he keeps a stiff upper lip. He knows who he is and that's all that matters. It doesn't matter whether anyone else does. But like me, he is disillusioned with his own society. Perhaps this is the common area between myself and my interest in the programme. And, my discovery of the gay world has not only increased the rift between me and the straight world around me, but also cemented my interest in Doctor Who.

But in one of the real worlds, the gay world, it's difficult to be yourself.

An escape could be likened to a transmigration of personal feelings onto a physical, but fantasy medium, making it easier to deal with. Is this what is happening with gay Doctor Who fandom? Doctor Who is a catalyst for recovery and finding ones sense of self? Perhaps it's like that for all societies for all types of religions. Perhaps it's just the ingredients that are different and the recipe is still the same.

Me, well I'm taking the KD approach (no, not lang!) A good sense of humour is always best.

I think I'll put on "Time Lash".

(1) I say 'their' because, as hard as I tried, and even attempting to become gay for a short period to see what it's like, I can never join it.

The society is completely alien to me. I can understand it but I can't relate to it or become emotive about it. I can be supportive, constructive, helpful and enjoy some of the things that the society upholds but, ultimately, I am an outcast purely because my mindset, my orientation and my likes are unrelated. Like two train tracks that never meet (well, occasionally).

(2) Actually, I've just discovered how interesting SBS is. So, after eight months of celibacy from TV, I'm looking at a diverse interest base. Manga, here I come!

(3) Group sex usually means the 'straight' people discussing it aren't closed minded about same gender sex. Actually, those interested in group sex are more than likely to be concerned with pleasuring themselves rather than worrying about who or what it is that is giving them pleasure. But that's another topic.

(4) I have a lot of patience with people. Most people I know, once past their worries, are pretty accepting (if reserved). I'm talking about the people who go and hunt gay people down in packs. Hurting people because they're different, and, more than likely, because they're attracted to them themselves. Obviously no one is beyond help. But if help means thirty years of convincing, I don't think so!

Don't worry, be happy, now. Doo, do, do, do, do, do,do,do,do,do,do, doo.

And now a by no means comprehensive collection of gay and lesbian references in the mainstream TV shows we know and love. Feel free to send in examples from other TV shows for the next episode of HP.

"My parents made me try it out"

Smithers' excuse for visiting the Springfield Burlesque Parlour.

"Ooooh, Smithers you turn me on!"

Smithers' computer screen saver.

"Sorry Mr Burns, I must have taped over it."

Smithers admitting he taped over Mr Burns' conquering war music, with ABBA's Waterloo.

And now an upcoming discussion between Mr Burns and Smithers, from the Mulder and Scully episode:

"So another Friday is upon us, what'll you be doing Smithers, something gay no doubt?"

"Wha... What?!"

"You know lighthearted, fancy free. Mothers lock up your daughters, Smithers is on the town"

"Ha, ha, ha, exactly Sir".

"I don't need a man to make my life complete. I am not going to have the job you want me to have, I'm not going to date the man you want me to date, I'm not going to wear the clothes you want me to wear. It's my life, I want to live it my way. Just face it, I'm not you Mum."

"Know your nipples... well I'd like to!"

Ellen reads a gynaecology pamphlet with her new friend Chloe.

Ellen: And it's dressy... jackets required.

Audrey: Looks like someone's going to have to buy a cocktail dress.

Ellen: Jackets required was for me, Audrey.

At a book signing by Martha Stewart.

Peter (to Martha Stewart): To Peter, I see your face in every pan I use. All my love, Martha.

Peter runs, squealing and all excited, to show his friends his autograph.

Ellen (to Martha Stewart): Well, I'm sure his wife's going to enjoy that, huh.

And from Jeffrey...

Darius: Who's Martha Stewart?

Patrick Stewart's character: Leave this house!

Hale: "Reckon you could kiss me stranger?"

Pace: "If I kissed you, boy, those cherry red lips of yours would burst into flames. You'd die of pure pleasure!"

Monica: Alright. Tell me if this is too cute: Lesbian wedding-chicken breasts.

Racheal: Oh god, I think I'm going to be sick.

Monica: What? It's not like I'm putting little nipples on them.

Deb: Only 96 hours 15 minutes and 12 seconds until Mum and Dad finally meet Joan.

Jamie: Relax. I'm sure the big news was that you have a girlfriend.

Paul: Now you're just giving them a face to attach to all the sleepless nights spent crying.

Deb: Thank you, Paul. See how nice I am when you come out of the closet.

Mr Nutt: You'd be surprised how many women find my size intriguingly alluring.

Mulder: And you'd be surprised how many men do as well.

Recently I read two reviews of "Damaged Goods"; one in Dreamwatch # 16, the other in a Western Australian fanzine Gallifreyan Graffiti # 133. Both reviewers were unable to decide whether the novel was 'good' or 'bad'-and both seemed to have problems with its portrayal of homosexuality.

My own opinion first: the novel is engrossing, moving and entertaining. Most importantly, "Damaged Goods" treats Doctor Who myths with innovation. But have part of the fan pantheon been damaged in the process? Does the reviewers' uncertainty reflect theocide, or merely expose petty prejudices?

The Dreamwatch reviewer on homosexuality in the novel: "this subplot was basically irrelevant to the main storyline." Had he paid the slightest attention beyond the Doctor defeats monster business, this fanboy might have recognised an examination of 'silences' and their destructive effects. The David Daniels/Harry Harvey (queer pride/shame) relationship is as thematically important as Mrs Jerricho's concealment of her past. Reading Happiness Patrol # 1, with writers discussing the difficulty of 'coming out', of safe but crushing 'silences' of their own, I might say queer issues were most relevant to the novel. Of course it's Chris and David's interaction between pages 155 and 166 which disconnect these reviewers most. I found it refreshing that Chris didn't leave another young woman pregnant this time; but for some the idea of a companion having a gay 'twenty minutes' is too much. It is disconcerting to have central concepts challenged, but equally it's necessary to accept change.

The Gallifreyan Graffiti reviewer was more oblique-this is the fanzine of a club that treated "Transit" as hardcore porn, brown paper bags and all! But he does write that the novel is "complete with pimps, drug dealers, homosexuals... Herein lies my problem with the novel." Grouping gays with criminality, very suspect. Further, the review's conclusion is: "remember that 'exfoliate' means to shave." This implies that the 'normal' reader should be forgiven for thinking David (on page 59) had nipped off for a toss. Humour edging towards homophobia? Gallifreyan Graffiti has deep silences of its own to fact, it seems.

To be fair, both reviewers seemed to enjoy parts of this novel. But deference towards the twin gods-Nostalgia and Prejudice-ultimately held them back. More importantly though, fanzines such as Happiness Patrol, and novelists such as Russel T Davies, are providing means of expression for less blinkered fans. Nostalgia can be separated from Prejudice-perhaps it's just a matter of encouraging fanboys to read with open minds as well as open pages.

I'll leave you with a defining point in the seventh Doctor's characterisation:

The Doctor remained inscrutable. He seemed to be staring at David Daniels, as the boy insisted on giving Chris a hug... he smiled and returned the embrace. Chris looked embarrassed as he saw the Doctor watching, but the ghost of a smile seemed to illuminate the Doctor's face from within. (page 256)