My friend Sarah Carey writes a column for the Irish edition of the Sunday Times. This week, she discusses the daunting array of latent homosexuals in her neighbourhood:
Rugby matches are a fertile source of rich, macho latents. Scrums, communal showers, collars standing up, plenty of sexist jokes and a fondness for big-arsed women. Latent, latent, latent.
I don’t necessarily agree with everything she says, but it’s kind of amusing. Having both lived in Ireland and the much more out-and-about Vancouver, I think that Catholicism and all its fingers in Irish culture keeps a lot of Irish men deeply in the closet.