davywavy | Why don't I have a job in television yet? [2]

Television owners might be aware of the male-grooming phenomenon that is Queer Eye for the Straight Guy. What this show does is take your average heterosexual male and get a coterie of well-groomed gays to give him a makeover and change his grooming habits so he doesn’t wear three day old underwear and he washes every week whether he needs to or not.
All very well you might say, if you’re part of the Sex-and-the-city generation. However, in the interests of equality and modern, gender-neutral inclusiveness, I think it only fair to propose a series of “Straight Eye for the Queer Guy.” The format would be very similar, but reversed – five Yorkshiremen in string vests combine the wisdom of their years to give a gay man a makeover.

Yorkshireman 4 (looking round Gay Man’s conceptual living space in Docklands): Oh dear. Dear oh dear. (Sucks air through teeth). Got our work cut out here, lads.
Gay Man: But I had this place decorated by Nicky Haslam only last month! It’s immaculate! It’s a work of art!
Yorkshireman 4: That’s just it, lad! It needs the personal touch. You see ... (wisely) … it’s not a Home.
Yorkshireman 2: Aye, it’s too bloody tidy.
Yorkshireman 4: You know what this place needs, lad? (Gay Man shakes his head dumbly) Pair of week-old underpants draped ovver t’radiator. (He reaches into a Morrisons bag and brings out a pair of stained Y-fronts which he proceeds to drape artistically over the radiator, trying them this way and that and finally stepping back to consider the effect.)
Yorkshireman 3: And a half-eaten pizza down t’settee.
Yorkshireman 4: Aye. (He brings a half-eaten pizza out of the Morrisons bag and jams it down between the manicured ponyskin cubes. Gay Man makes a wordless moaning noise.)
Yorkshireman 1: And a cup of tea wi green hair on. (Produces mug).
Yorkshiremen (in chorus): Aye.
Yorkshireman 5: Don’t worry lad, lasses like a bit of a mess, it gives’em summat to chunter about while they’re getting tha tea.
Yorkshireman 4: And another thing, tha wants some pictures.
Gay Man (weakly): But I’ve got some pictures! (He gestures to the artfully mounted 7’ square black-and white photographic study of a nude male torso by Robert Mapplethorpe above the coffee table).
Yorkshireman 4 (producing a copy of the Sun, some kitchen scissors and Blu-tack): Nay lad, tha needs a few Tits.
Yorkshireman 1: (Opening fridge) And what’s this? Wine? And poncy imported foreign lagers? Nay, lad, nay. What tha needs…is Sam Smiths (Pulls a four pack of bitter from his carrier bag). ‘cos lager’s for puffs, like.
Yorkshiremen (In chorus): Aye.
Gay Man slumps into his Red or Dead Sofa and looks appalled.
Yorkshireman 3 (Sniffing): Does tha’ smoke, lad?
Gay Man: No.
Yorkshireman 3 (Nodding sagely): ‘appen. Tha’s got to smoke, lad. Woodbines or Regal King Size. Lasses love it. My lass smokes forty a day and goes like the clappers. That’s cause and effect, son. Cause and effect. If y’smoke tha’ll pull the lasses, lad. Trust me.
Gay Man: But I don’t want to ‘pull lasses’! I’m gay!
Yorkshireman 3 (Places a consoling hand on Gay Man's shoulder): Well, aye, but that’s because you’re a bit of a puff, like. We’ll soon ‘ave that out of yer.
(Cue montage of scenes including the Yorkshiremen stripping out the Pine Decking and replacing it with “a proper patio”, throwing away a selection of expensive male grooming products and replacing them with Old Spice, Brut 33, and Hai-Karate("...the three cornerstones of the mans bathroom cabinet"), and disposing of an exquisite collection of European art films and replacing them with boxed sets of Jean-Claude van Damme, Steven Seagal, and Arnold Schwarzenegger action movies)

So why don’t I have a job in television, yet?