

Categories: Media Ted comic
Tagged: christopher bryant, gay rights, homosexuality, marcie, media ted, mihkel mõttus, mrs dalloway, picture of dorian gray


Categories: Media Ted comic
Tagged: christopher bryant, gay rights, homosexuality, marcie, media ted, mihkel mõttus, mrs dalloway, picture of dorian gray


Categories: Media Ted comic
Tagged: christopher bryant, comic strip, gay rights, homosexuality, media ted, mihkel mõttus
The following tale of Alexander the Great’s visit to a small village in the mountains outside of Ecbatana in Persia was discovered forty years ago. The tale was written on stone tablets. It has been translated from the Persian and then rendered into the modern idiom by the radical queer movement Who’s The Denialist Now? It is estimated that the story can be dated 324 BC although its authenticity cannot be verified. It is known that Alexander was in Ecbatana at this time.
I had heard all the stories. Great warrior as a blond as the sun, whatever that was supposed to mean; covered in as many wounds as he was muscles, which sounds like a new category of fetish all in itself; takes lovers in every town even though he had his eunuch, his ‘best’ friend and his ‘wife’ in tow, which is too nasty to think about. I hated him years before I saw him.
Then, I never thought I would have to see him. Alexander the Great. He had to come to this village, didn’t he? His retroussé nose sniffed the hills as he luxuriated in Ecbatana and he said, “You know, Hephaestion, I think I’ll teach the mountain dwellers ‘round here a thing or two. So much better than city folk. I mean, they’re already hip to the square. Mountain dwellers are so … what’s the word I’m looking for? Innocent. Persian hicks always scream louder, anyway, when you …” Here he would trail off and wink.
Categories: Short Fiction
Tagged: alexander the great, bagoas, bryon fear, hephaestion, homosexuality, julius caesar, polari, william summers
Why write a speculative and perhaps scurrilous story about Alexander the Great?
The main reason is that there is a romance surrounding Alexander that does not take the hard facts into account. And of course by hard facts I mean the pillage and plunder. Why on one hand is to acceptable to praise Alexander but oppose the Halliburton/Microsoft sponsored war in Iraq? True, Alexander at least had a culture to bring to his conquered lands, whereas the Bush junta had … Microsft contracts, Halliburton contracts, faux rhetoric about freedom and democracy that in effect meant control of the oil fields, and governments that would not get in the way of such control. And Hollywood films of course.
There was not the hypocrisy in the campaigns of Alexander, which provides an historical tick, and also the culture of the time did not question the politics of limitless conquests. And didn’t he do well? All that conquering by the time he was 29. Julius Caesar at 32 wept beside Alexander’s grave because he had yet to really get started on his conquering.
I don’t like warmongers, no matter what period in history they arise. One should always understand and contextualize, of course. In the end, I see Alexander not as a romantic figure but as a murderer.
This is why the story was ‘translated’ into the modern idiom. It is a form of revisionism written by the vicitm.
Alexander was in Ecbatana at this time, and Hephaestion was indeed poisoned there. Alexander’s grief and rage provide a fascinating insight into this hero who wanted everything his way and his way only.
Categories: Short Fiction
Tagged: alexander the great, homosexuality, julius caesar


Categories: Media Ted comic
Tagged: christopher bryant, cross-dressing nuns, gay marriage, gay rights, homosexuality, media ted, mihkel mõttus
Robert Astrid collected a roll of sellotape, a scalpel and all the things that were needed and moved them into the cluttered back room that doubled as his artist’s studio. On a desk piled high with magazine cuttings he was using to make a collage of an East End street scene, he placed two cameras – one Polaroid, one digital, and a large pair of scissors. He returned through the kitchen to the bedroom and struggled with the battered trunk. It was too heavy to lift, so he took the handle at one end and dragged it along the floor until he reached the gripper rod between the kitchen and the back room, at which, it lifted frayed, mildewed carpet, unhousing a family of silverfish. “Bloody things.” He stamped on them and tugged the man-size trunk into the studio and set it down at the edge of the room. Then he emptied its contents onto the floor: props, costumes, toys, a collection of DVDs, a leather harness, lubricant. From the DVDs he chose one that would set the tone for the night.![]()
Outside, on the opposite side of the street, wearing his favourite black leather jacket, Jonathan was looking up at Robert’s first floor window. The flat in Goswell Dwellings was on a narrow street bordering a typical East-End square. It adjoined a converted pub, which had, when Jonathan visited ten years ago, been home to an array of gangsters, pimps and filth, with half of them staggering out on to the street. To think he used to find all this charming. Hardly where you’d expect a famous artist to live. Though, even now, with the pub sign painted over and its notorious street-peddlers gone, Old Shoreditch Road had not lost its otherworldly appeal to him.
Categories: Short Fiction
Tagged: bryon fear, justin ward
In which the Sci-Fi Convention comes to town, which leads Ted and Marcie to dreams of heroes whisking them away …


Categories: Media Ted comic
Tagged: gay rights, han solo, media ted, sci-fi convention, seven of nine, star trek, star wars


Categories: Media Ted comic
Tagged: christopher bryant, media ted, mike mottus
When I walk into a bar, or the gym, or a frakking Starbucks, or, like, wherever, I know people are looking at me and thinking, ‘if only he could be mine,’ or ‘if only I could be that fabulously beautiful,’ or ‘I could drown in those blue eyes, full of sensuality and light.’ Well, maybe, if they were as articulate as yours truly – or mine truly: hands off girlfriend! – but most of the time they probably just think ‘phwoar, grunt.’
That said, life can be a little hard if you’re blond – like I – and pretty – like I. There is no way that people will take you seriously, no matter what you may or may not say. My blond hair and my brain and not one and the same. Not all pretty-boy blonds are self-obsessed!
I decided to do something about that mired perception and have embarked, fabulously, on a career in retail.
Retail? you may ask.
Retail is for those who have people skills, who bring joy to the downtrodden on the High Street looking for a way out, a way up, and a dream of fabulousness which, with the right outfit and the right state of mind, could be theirs.
Categories: Short Fiction
Tagged: bryon fear, saint of retail, william summers