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Boy Banned

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Prowler, London, 2001
(price: 7.95; 268 pages)

The blurb on the back:

Four young men are about to get the biggest break of their lives. In a hot new boyband, they ride into the pop charts on a wave of sex and success. But they're not like every other clean-cut bunch of cuties: they're gay, they're out and they're horny as hell.
In this fresh new erotic novel from the author of
The Captain's Boy, fame is the biggest turn-on of them all...

'You certainly have high opinions of yourselves, I will say that. Now what is your band called?'
Joe crossed his arms and grinned sheepishly at the older man. 'The Big Boys.'
'Interesting name. What's the reason behind that?' Nick gazed unblinkingly at Joe, who returned the stare. 'Well...we liked the name, and it sounds good and er...'
'I hope you live up to your stage soubriquet.'
Paul looked puzzled. 'Our what?'
'Your band name. If you call yourselves big boys, it seems only right and fair that you should be.' A palpable tension seemed to be hovering in the air about the three men.
Joe broke the silence, shifting a little in his seat and spreading his legs slightly, easing himself forward an inch or two, his tight trousers emphasising the bulge within them.
'I've had no complaints so far,' he said.

It's been an established fact of British pop music ever since the days of Larry Parnes ('shillings and pence') back in the 1950s that the best teen stars appeal equally to little girls and gay men. Consequently (or perhaps causally) many of the best managers and producers have been gay. On the other hand, the convention was that most of the stars themselves were straight.

Then, in the 1990s, the latter part of this equation changed to accommodate the rise of the boy band - turned out that there simply aren't enough straight young men left in this country with decent bodies and the ability to dance convincingly. (I'm not sure that there are any.)

So the premise of Boy Banned is a perfectly plausible extension of reality: an out boy band trying to sell their music to the kids. Except that the novel isn't really interested in the music as such. The real point to the book is ... well, take this shower scene, for example:

'You have a great cock.' Paul shouted above the roar of the water, weighing the bollocks in his hands, enjoying the size and feel, rolling them between his palms.
'Thanks. Yours is very nice too.' Jodi reached down and took it in his hands, gripping its semi-recumbent mass tightly, rubbing soap all over it, before letting the powerful jet of water wash the suds away. (p.142)

You get the picture? As far as gay porn goes, it's not my cup of meat, but then I guess it's not aimed at me, just as boy band records aren't aimed at me. It's got some nice jokey touches though - chapter titles like 'Roadie Rage', 'Fourgy' and 'At The Queen's Pleasure', for example - and it's literate enough. Recommended as a curio at least.


Like this? Try this...

Paul Magrs, All The Rage
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