Harry: Hey Butch, see how Dix walks up to the bar with his chest puffed up as if he’s John Wayne. He’s so blindingly obvious, isn’t he?

Butch: I know, but haven’t we all done that before one time or another? Good luck to him with the new barman. By the way, how’s Ian? How come he’s not joining us today?

Harry: Ian’s fine, busy teaching as usual. And on top of it, the amateur dramatics group he’s been part of for several years has started rehearsing for an all-male version of The Pirates of Penzance, so I doubt you will see much of him until the show’s run is over.

Butch: Typical Ian, where do you find a multi-talented husband like him? Does he have a big role?

Harry: Not this time, he’s just one of the pirates in the chorus. Well, he enjoys taking part, which is the most important thing. Apparently, they are going to make him wear this big handle bar moustache to go with his beard, it’ll be hilarious. I’m not sure Gilbert & Sullivan is your cup of tea, but surely Ian is more than happy to find you a ticket.

Butch: Well, normally singing and dancing is not really my thing, but an all-male version sounds like a laugh. Do keep me posted closer to the opening date, since I’d love to see Ian on stage again. So, what is it like being married to a pirate? Arrrg!!!

Harry: Never a dull moment! Been four years already, who can believe it? Did I tell you a couple of weeks ago, Ian surprised me with a long weekend in Cornwall for our anniversary?

Butch: No, you didn’t. How romantic of him? Where did you guys go in Cornwall? Don’t tell me, it’s labelled with a big black cross on the map! Arrrg!!!

Harry: As if! We stayed in a nice little B&B about ten miles from St Ive by the coast. We’ve talked about doing it for some time, but I’ve no clue Ian had secretly organised it behind my back.

Butch: He’s really sneaky, isn’t he? Did you guys pillage any village and rape their virgins? Arrrg!!!

Harry: Damn, I knew there’s something we’ve forgotten to do!

Butch: It’s perfect character research for Ian’s upcoming pirate role. So, did you see any of the sights, or spent the whole time on your back, admiring the ceiling lights in the hotel room? I hope the B&B gave you a bed solid enough to withstand all the abuse you guys gave it.

Harry: Hey, what are you trying to imply? OK, we’re both chunky guys, but we’ll probably look tiny compared to some of the hippos you had corrupted through the years.

Butch: How dare you call my tricks hippos? Does Ian know you have a mean streak?

Harry: I’m just kidding. Obviously, I don’t mean it, I’ve met plenty of sexy chubby guys in my day.

Butch: There’s nothing wrong with the fuller figure, and appreciating them. God forbid, you could be that big one day yourself, judging from how much you and Ian love your food.

Harry: Well, to tell the truth, the bed did creak a bit. Thankfully, it survived our assaults and stayed in one piece. As it turns out, that B&B was run by an older gay couple. They were very friendly, and I doubt there’s nothing they haven’t seen before. Every morning, they served us huge platefuls of full English breakfast which certainly didn't help our waistlines.

Butch: I love a big cooked breakfast, really set you up for the rest of the day.

Harry: Me, too. When we checked in, Ian briefly mentioned it was our anniversary, and I couldn’t believe they surprised us with a little bottle of champagne to wash down our breakfast.

Butch: How generous of them? It’s the little things like that those soulless large hotel chains lack.

Harry: I agree. But we hardly spent any time at the B&B. There’s so much to see, we could spend a whole week in Cornwall and still barely scratching the surface. Have you ever been?

Butch: Not yet, but it’s definitely in my “to visit” list. I know there are some stunning bike rides along the coastline I’d love to try out.

Dix: Excuse me. One frothing pint for you. And one for you.

Butch: Hmm… You’ve gone a long time. Have you been chatting up the new barman? What’s he like? Have you fixed up a date yet?

Dix: You’re nosy, aren’t you? Well, if you absolutely have to know, he’s called Trevor. He moved here from Scotland a few weeks ago with his husband, who’s got a new job here in the city. Tell me, why are all the sexy ones already taken? It’s so unfair!

Butch: Such is life, better luck next time. Talking about married men, Harry was just telling me Ian had treated him to a surprise anniversary weekend in Cornwall recently.

Dix: Oh, fantastic! I hope you two had a fun time. Why can’t I find a husband like that?

Harry: I’m sure you’ll do one day.

Butch: Anyway, cheers everyone. Salut i força al canut!

Harry: Salut i força al canut!

Dix: Salut i força al canut! You know, I love Cornwall. Used to visit with my mother when I was young. Beautiful cliffs and beaches there. Did you guys try any Cornish clotted cream tea?

Harry: Does a bear shit in the woods? Of course, we did. I know those scones and cream are full of calories, but we just couldn’t help ourselves and even asked for seconds.

Dix: Easily done, and I doubt you were the only ones. Did you do it properly and spread the jam on the scones before adding a big spoonful of cream?

Harry: Definitely, Ian insisted we had to follow tradition and do it the Cornish way.

Butch: What are you guys on about? Really, what difference does it make? They’ll all end up in the same place anyway, namely my stomach!

Harry: You’re such a philistine! Wars have been fought over whether it is jam first or cream first.

Dix: For your information, next door in Devon, people always put cream first. The locals in both counties are very fussy about it. By the way, Harry, did you visit the Eden Project? It’s somewhere I definitely like to see when I go back.

Harry: Yes, we spent a whole day there, and probably the highlight of our trip. It’s absolutely enormous, plant lovers like you will be in your elements there.

Dix: Tell me about it. Unfortunately, it wasn’t opened to the public yet last time I was there. I’ve always found botany fascinating, and it’s my favourite course at uni. Obviously, I now have professional interest too, since I run a small gardening centre.

Butch: You and your green fingers. It’s a shame, I don’t have a garden. Otherwise, I’ll be picking your brain all the time.

Dix: That’s a thought, maybe I should give Trevor my business card, just in case he and his husband needed help with their gardening needs. Or any other needs!

Harry: Is any man safe from you?

Dix: You’ll never know where new clients might come from these days. If after planting, they ask me in for a cup of tea and fool around, who am I to say no?

Butch: The dirty, sweaty gardener got lucky! Sounds suspiciously like a corny porn plot line to me.

Harry: Oh, I think I’ve seen that one. Is it “The Naked Gardener”, or “From Flowerbed to My Bed”?

Dix: If only! In all my years in the gardening business, nothing of the sort ever happened, but one can dream.

Butch: Never say never! I can just picture you gardening in the buff, getting all muddy and sweaty.

Dix: I don’t mind stripping off when the sun is out, but there is no way I’m getting my dangling bits anywhere close to those stinging leaves, thorny branches, and nasty biting insects. It’s bad enough sometimes it looks like I’ve been self harming simply after clearing brambles.

Butch: And I thought you’re really tough. I read somewhere there are guys who get a kick from being flogged with nettles, and even rub the leaves on their sensitive private parts.

Dix: Ouch, ouch, ouch! Do they really? That must seriously sting! I’ll never weed nettles unless I have my thick gloves on. I can already feel that burning sensation just at the thought of it.

Butch: Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it.

Dix: No, thank you. Go try it yourself! But, can I watch? I’ll even provide the nettles.

Butch: Yeah? It’ll cost you, how about a grand?

Harry: No doubt, there are masochists who will do that sort of thing for free. Talking about nettles, I once had nettle sorbet at a posh restaurant, and it even had little pieces of the leaves mixed in. It was surprising refreshing, sweet and a little herby.

Dix: Interesting, that’s new to me, but I’ve tried nettle flavoured beer which is not bad. Do you know, nettle is a well-known ingredient in tea making, too?

Butch: Is that right? I’m not a big tea drinker, but I won’t mind trying nettle beer myself. Aren’t you a walking encyclopaedia on all things plant related?

Dix: That’s literally my job! I’ll buy you a bottle if I see it again. And one for you too, Harry?

Harry: Sure, love to try anything new. Well, that’s apart from getting nettles anywhere close to my genitals.

Butch: You’re all so vanilla! I’ll be happy to administer it to anyone who is more – should I say – “unconventional and adventurous”.

Dix: I know you like to put on this dom master persona, but I’ve no idea you’re a sadist too!

Harry: Butch was obviously joking, I won’t take him seriously. Talking about trying new things, while you were busy getting beers and chatting up the barman, I was telling Butch my Ian has just started rehearsals for a new all male version of The Pirates of Penzance. I’m not sure whether you like musicals, but if you want to see Ian prancing around on stage dressed as a pirate, I can ask him to get you a ticket.

Dix: Sure, why not? I rarely go to the theatre, but I’m opened to suggestions, especially if Ian is in it. He was really funny when he played the guy who turned into a donkey last year. I was laughing so much I nearly fell off my seat.

Butch: Yeah, I remember their take on A Midsummer Night’s Dream got loads of stars from the critics, and Ian was fantastic playing Bottom.

Harry: Trust me, he has plenty of practice playing “bottom”! Can you believe one night after the run, I found him waiting for me in bed wearing that silly looking papier-mâché donkey head? He nearly gave me a heart attack.

Dix: For real? What’s he thinking?

Butch: If you ask me, I would just mount his hairy arse and give him the ride of his life. Seriously, Harry, I didn’t know you guys are so kinky! I’m impressed.

Harry: We are not! Well, after I picked my jaw up from the floor, I told him he can play Bottom in bed any time, but I’m no fairy and certainly not into bestiality. He chuckled a bit and as if by magic, he was transformed back to his beary self in the blink of an eye, and showed me how good a bottom he was.

Dix: Lucky you! So, what happened to the donkey head?

Harry: Ian couldn’t face throwing it away, since he was really fond of the role. I believe it’s been safely stashed away somewhere in our garage for prosperity.

Butch: I suppose that’s a change from all these puppy play all the rage these days. I know there are those into equine play too, but donkey play is definitely new to me.

Dix: You could be a real ass when you put your mind to it. Does that count?

Butch: I’ll show you how big an ass I could be if you don’t watch your tongue.

Harry: Easy children. Butch, out of curiosity, have you done any of these pretend animal play business with your fuck buddies?

Butch: Are you interested in giving it a go? You know, I’ve no problem with role playing, but somehow the whole doggy thing does nothing for me. So, not really. I rather play with a real woofer. For the guys who are into being treated like an animal, good for them.

Dix: Personally, I don’t get the whole submissive thing in general, if you ask me. I already get enough shit from demanding clients at work, don’t need more during my private time.

Harry: I understand. It seemed to be popular among many CEOs, or men in position of power, but obviously with plenty of exceptions. I reckon after bossing people around all day, they like to be on the receiving end and following orders. Funny world, isn’t it?

Butch: I’ve met a few guys like that, mostly rich, paunchy businessmen. All expensive tailored suits and ties during the day, and wanted to be treated like dirt at night. They see my size and suddenly eager to serve me on their hands and knees. I guess in their fantasy I’m a builder or something, little do they know I too sit in an office in front of the computer all day.

Dix: Whatever floats their boat. People do say the most important sex organ is the brain. Then again, I don’t blame them, I won’t like to mess with you if we cross in a dark alley.

Butch: Do you think I look that scary?

Harry: You do build like a brick shit house, but we know you are really a pussycat deep down. It could be something to do with your thick beard and bushy eyebrows.

Butch: I don’t have bushy eyebrows! Well, perhaps a little. I get it from my old man, and it’s just going to get more out of control from now on. It’s not my fault I have hair sprouting all over the place.

Harry: Don’t complain, loads of guys will be jealous of that thick carpet of chest hair and wish they are a fur ball like you.

Dix: I for one, but doubt there are many others outside the bear community. I kept seeing hair removal adverts all over the gay media, which surely means the smooth hairless look still dominates the gay world.

Butch: There’s not enough wax in the world to rid me off my body hair!

Dix: Waxing always sounds like some kind of medieval torture to me. Can you imagine having all the hair on your balls or butt crack yanked out? I’ve no idea how women shave and wax all the time. They must have a very high pain tolerance level.

Harry: And even higher vanity level. I can't believe they are now making their men shave off every single hair below the neck too. This smooth prepubescent look doesn't do anything to me.

Dix: Tell me about it. It must be really scratchy and itchy when the hair grows back all stubby. Between you and Ian, you must shed enough hair to stuff a small cushion every month.

Harry: You don’t say, and the plug hole in our bath is constantly blocked, but I’m not complaining.

Butch: Oh, gross! I don’t need to know that! Can you please warn me before you overshare next time, so I can cover my ears?

Harry: What, those hairy ears? I bet it’s just as bad for you, if not worse.

Butch: Maybe, but I don’t tell everyone about it.

Dix: It’s only natural and one of the curses of being a hairy bear, or married to one. I like my men furry, so won’t have it any other way.

Butch: Talking about the curse of being hairy, don’t you find it takes forever to dry off after a shower? It’s like trying to dry a towel with another towel. They should invent a full-body hair dryer for hairy men like me.

Harry: Now that’s a thought, I think you’re onto a winner there. I’ll be the first in line to buy one, imagine all the time I’ll save in the morning.

Dix: I don’t understand why you’re moaning about being hairy, I wish I’m as hairy as either of you.

Harry: Give it time, you might do, but you look good as you are.

Butch: I agree with Harry for once. Do you know I was already quite hairy during the last few years of school and was called a gorilla, yeti, or missing link?

Dix: Kids can be so cruel!

Butch: Fortunately, I wasn’t that insecure to let it bother me. In return, I just called them immature little boys with tiny balls, and that normally shuts them up.

Dix: Quite right. Surely your size helped too.

Butch: True. I wasn’t small back then, but not as big as I am now.

Harry: You’ve certainly bulked out a lot since we first met all those years ago.

Dix: I’d love to see a photo of you in your schoolboy days. It’ll be fun to do one of those “Before and After” recreation of old photos to show the difference.

Butch: Not sure any of my old photos have survived after all these years. There weren’t that many to start with, since taking photos is nothing as ubiquitous as today.

Harry: I think my old film SLR camera from my youth is still somewhere in the house. Those were the days, constantly worrying about running out of film, waiting for the half-taken roll to finish before eventually taking it to be developed. I kind of miss the excitement of opening the envelope sleeve and flicking through the photos finally for the first time.

Butch: Just to find most of the shots were actually rubbish! At least there’s no taking endless selfies in those days. Thank god.

Harry: No, I can’t stand people stopping in the middle of the street out-of-the-blue posing for some pointless selfies. People seemed to pay more attention to taking photographs in the good old days than causally snapping away.

Butch: Yeah. And also, since most people depended on photo shops to develop their photos, virtually no one has any naked pics of themselves unless they owned a Polaroid.

Dix: Yeah, times have certainly changed. I won’t know what to do without my camera phone. How do I document my every move and instantly share them with all my followers?

Butch: I didn’t realise you are one of these “influencers”! Do you have a massive following? I thought you only take pics of your cock, or arse, to entice and deflower daddy bears.

Dix: I have you know my photos of exotic plants get plenty of likes.

Harry: Don’t you two start again. Nature calls. Are you guys ready for another beer? I can get them on my way back.

Dix: Thanks, Harry. Same again, please.

Butch: Me too. Thank you very much. I promise I’ll be on my best behaviour in your absence. By the way, don’t forget to take your phone with you in case you want to take a few selfies of you pissing and share them with all your online fans.

Harry: So that’s one pint of beer for Dix and nothing for Butch.

Butch: Come on, lighten up! Where’s your sense of humour, Harry?

Harry: Probably already in the gents by now! Better go, otherwise the only selfie you’ll see is of me pissing all over your shoes.

Butch: In that case, you’re still here? Go, go, go!