Soy milk ... ohhhdearlord.

Oh what the hell. Story time!

Okay. I have horrific and mutilatory childhood memories of attempting to use soy milk on cereal as if it were regular ol' moo-cow milk.

Good GOD it was horrible. At least age-ten me felt mutilated. And disgusted. And betrayed. And horrified.

Soy “milk”. Gah. A fake! A fraud! A phoney! A faux-milk loathsome substitute skulking in milk cartons! Masquerading as good honest cows' milk! Corruption and foulness! Deception and disgust! Even the thought made me squirm.

And it appeared these sensations weren't confined to Soy. When I was about … ten, I think, I can to this day still recall various far-flung Conservative family members whispering. They whispered in furtive tones of both the Homosexual Agenda, and of the Vegetarian Agenda, in equal, nose-sneering measure.

At that age I’d heard of neither. But various loved ones insisted they were horrible. (Or at least, individuals who my mum claimed were loved ones (and looking back now, I doubt she felt much affection for these rellies but sensed it wouldn't go well to “make a fuss” about her concerns, and yup I use that phrase deliberately)). These alleged Loved Ones stamping their disapproval upon both Agendas surely counted for something, right? Right?

Apparently this horrid disgusting fake soy crap was this Vegetarian/Homosexual Agenda hard at work, polluting our childrens’ bedrooms. But child-me deemed these bedroom desecrations actually kinda awesome. My only reference point, then, re boudoir infiltrations was Father Christmas or Santa Claus or Sergeant Spacedicks or whatever the hell he’s called these days. That sounds amazing! Bring on the Agendas!

But 10yo-me didn't much relish the vibe these distant rellies oozed. They stunk of cigarette smoke and whiskey. They wore ch0nky horn-rimmed glasses and stinky cardigans. They played snooker in dark pubs. They were so fat they waddled and listened to horse racing radio and they got out of breath attempting long sentences, let alone long walks ...

... But ...

... If they shared my entirely reasonable and correct volcanic loathing of soy milk and this Vegetarian Agenda, then they couldn't be all bad, right?

Fast forward a few years. Teens-me discovered there's a Thing called "Gay".

I discovered that some of my friends possess this Gay.

And my first reaction was this same squirmy loathing produced by soy milk.

I could not for the life of me figure out why. Half a dozen of my childhood friends turned out to have some Gay. They’d been cool cats whilst small children and remain cool cats as teens. Why this revulsion? Where’s it coming from?

Then I chatted more with a few of them, learned more about recent decades of historical gayness, and the word "Agenda" reared its head.

I was astonished to discover Gay and Homosexual meant the same thing. And this fired off a whole bunch o' childhood memories.

And I was enlightened.

(Incidentally, I read a interview some years back of the former New Zealand prime minister Helen Clark: at age seven, she had a similar unsettling epiphany upon discovering that “chooks”, those adorable birds which cluck and lay eggs and scratch the ground for insects and are your dear friends, were the same things as “chickens”, the glad-wrapped meat in polystyrene containers from the supermarket.)