You are not my people

Last night Thom and I went gay clubbing... for the diggers.
Connies was having a "uniform" night (LOL. THAT'S sensitive. THAT'S what the Anzac's fought and died for) and as we had both had such a shocking week we felt like going out and getting boozed. The options were Rise ("do you like your hardcore, do-do-do do-do-do") or Connections. So we took the latter. Neither of us had been there for almost a year and neither of us, therefore, had seen the renovation.
The reno looks good, actually.
But let me say on the record, the people in there were not my people.
Perhaps I'm old, but the pre-pubescent hairless twinky snap-in-the-wind super baby-queens running around as if they owned the place made me feel just slightly sick. I don't know how paedos do it. I couldn't. When did 18-year-olds weighing 45kg get such an "I'm so hot" attitude. Kid, you're fucking emaciated, put your shirt back on. Or are you dressed as a POW? You are not my people.
And there was the MOST hideous drag queen who was also rolling around as if she owned the place. She had a little flunky stuck to her side like some kind of rass and I overheard her say something about calling security because she wasn't going to put up with something or other.
All I could think was "darling, who the fuck are you?". Answer? "You're a delusional fat guy who has sandwiched his cock up his crack and squeezed into a Miller's Fashion Club size 34 bargain basement no-natural-fibres-were-harmed-in-the-making-of-this-garment frock, looked in the mirror and for some reason, instead of shooting yourself, you've decided to go out on the town. You and your sucker fish friend, you are not my people.
There was hardly anyone there I recognised. A couple of weathered faces I remember from a few years ago (when they were less weathered. Don't let anyone tell you the drugs don't work), but only faces, no one to talk to.
I remember now why I don't go there. Don't get me wrong, I'm glad it exists and that there is somewhere for these people to go and to be safe, but it is not for me. I know I'm not the blokiest creature on God's Earth. But I'm not those people. And that's enough to give thanks for.
Give them three or four years and perhaps they'll feel as I do.