I hear a voice with a Cockney accent coming from inside the cubicle: "I'm
gay but I don't take it up the arse," followed by a muffled reply that I fail to decipher. The
Cockney voice again: "Come
on. I'm queer; you're queer. Get your fucking knickers off and bend over." Another
muffled reply, heavy breathing, rustling noises. Losing
his patience, the man with the Cockney accent raises his voice: "I fancy you. You fancy me, don't you? Now then... bend
over!" The panting gets louder. I
wash my hands… and leave.
Fiction? Or reportage?
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