The Collar and the Cab

In an act of pure opportunist self-promotion and in the hope of selling some I am publishing some extracts from my new book The Collar and the Cab on this blog. There are 35 chapters so it will take a couple of months to offer a little from each. 

34
Alwoodley – Encounters with
the Gay Community

 This is the point at which I should come out. Allow me to be
honest about myself and confess that I am about as “straight” as I
imagine it is possible to be. I find the male form, apart from a few
notable exceptions where I find myself in envy of the physique
of professional footballers and the like, to be unattractive in
the extreme, and the thought of kissing another man is about
as attractive as getting into a clinch with an amorous camel. It
was, perhaps, because of this strong heterosexual orientation,
and the traditional view of homosexual activity adopted by the
Church, that I also have to come out as one of those who saw no
real place for gay people in any Christian community. I confess
this now with both embarrassment and shame, and with sincere
apologies to those who may in any sense have suffered from the
prejudices of people like myself. I owe the change in attitude
to the experience of driving a cab around West Yorkshire,
especially on night shifts.
I had no idea even of the existence of the “Gay Quarter” of
the city until the first time I visited it late one evening at a time
when I was still becoming acquainted with the different varieties
of night-life on offer. The name on my screen read “Stephen”
but I was honestly convinced that it must have been a mistake
as what must surely have been a Stephanie emerged at a rate of
knots wearing a long, flowing dress and high heels, to climb into
the back seat offering the absolute minimum of exposure to any
of the general public who may have been watching. Somewhat
nonplussed I awaited instructions, which emerged from an
unmistakably male set of vocal chords. This was a whole new
world, and for almost the only time in my taxi-driving life I
really didn’t know what to say. What sort of banalities could I
share with this character that wouldn’t run the risk of sounding
inane, embarrassing or offensive? Nothing came readily to
mind, and this was clearly the common lot, as Stephen seemed
either unable or unwilling to make any small talk. A mercifully
short journey to what I would later recognise as the hub of the
Leeds gay night-time scene ended with the opening of a beaded
clutch-bag to pay the fare before Stephen disappeared into a
doorway with marginally less haste than exhibited earlier.
Thankfully Stephen’s apparent embarrassment was to prove
to be unusual. Subsequent journeys to and from the same area
taught me the obvious but, to be honest, completely unexpected
truth that those in the homosexual community are just normal
people like anyone else; it’s only their sexuality that doesn’t
conform to the traditional expectations of society. The presence
of a gay man in my cab was as unlikely to lead to a request for
sexual favours as if the passenger was female, and I could freely
chat to them about the same sorts of things I could chat to
anyone else about. This sounds so ridiculously obvious now, but
at the time the supposed “Christian” attitude I adopted to the gay
community, born of the same sort of ignorant defensiveness that
created my erstwhile prejudice against taxi drivers, seemed to
make complete and irrefutable sense. It was, of course, justified
by the rather selective texts from the Bible I used as a bulwark
against the trebuchets of common sense.

 

 The most significant encounter with someone of a different
sexual orientation is etched on my memory because it was this
experience that forever changed the way I thought about the gay
community as a Christian.
Gary was an executive with a multinational company who
for whatever reason had been working late into the night and
called a cab to take him from central Leeds to the other side of
Bradford sometime after midnight. This was a terrific job to get
for two reasons – firstly the length of journey meant a sizeable
fare, and secondly he was sober – a rarity at this time of night,
so there was a decent chance of a sensible conversation with an
interesting individual. We soon started chatting about a range of
subjects and, as was normal, he asked whether I had always been
a cabbie as I didn’t really sound like one. I revealed my former
profession, he expressed polite interest, and the conversation
moved on.
It was as we were approaching the centre of Bradford that
he just dropped the question out. ‘What does your church
think about homosexuals?’ This was fine – I had a readymade
answer that had been rehearsed in countless situations
for decades, and had always served the purpose well. It went

something like this; God designed people to be heterosexual
and therefore homosexuality is not in line with what he
requires. Some people, either through nature or nurture, find
themselves attracted to people of the same gender. This is not
sinful in itself, but if they have sexual relations with those
they are attracted to that is wrong, and something the Church
should not encourage. I was also anxious to put adultery and
fornication in the same category, just to demonstrate that I was
not really biased.
There was silence for a good 20 seconds before Gary
responded.
‘I’m a homosexual. Always have been. I’ve spent endless
years asking God to make me straight, but it isn’t happening,
and I’ve given up trying. Does this mean God doesn’t love me
and won’t want me?’
This was delivered without even a hint of accusation, selfpity
or rebuke, just as an honest enquiry. I was struck dumb as
the crass stupidity of the simplicity with which I had trotted
out a particular line in rhetoric struck me between the eyeballs.
What a pompous prat I must sound like.