Twinks After School
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by LAURA CLARK and ALEX BULLER, Daily Mail
A boy took his father's Viagra tablets to school and handed them out to his friends during their lunch break.
The youngster and five fellow pupils, all aged 12 and 13, were taken to hospital after swallowing the powerful anti-impotence drug.
He has now been suspended from his high-achieving school for 'actions which placed other pupils at risk'.
The six boys each took one of the blue tablets, but a classmate became concerned and alerted staff at the Forest School, Winnersh, Berkshire.
The pupils were taken to the Royal Berkshire Hospital, Reading. An ambulance service spokesman said: 'Their conditions were monitored regularly.
'However, they did not suffer any side-effects and they were fine. They were then released.'
The spokesman added: 'As far as I know, the Viagra did not have its usual effect on the children.'
Parents of the boys involved claimed the children had no idea what they were doing when they took the drug.
However, a sixth-former at the school said: 'I would not take it and it is a very immature thing to do.
'It's very dangerous to take something if you don't know what it is - it could have been lethal.'
Launched by Pfizer in a blaze of publicity five years ago, Viagra was seen as a breakthrough in the treatment of male impotence.
Although it should only be prescribed by a doctor, it is available through the Internet, meaning health checks on potential users are often not carried out.
Experts warned that the drug is untested on children.
Dr Alan Tang, of the Royal Berkshire Hospital's Florey Unit, which specialises in sexual health, said Viagra could be lethal if combined with other drugs.
'Viagra has not been tested on boys that age,' he added. 'In terms of dysfunction, it is not likely to have any particular effect. But it could combine with other medication which could be potentially fatal.
'In adults, it has been shown to be dangerous when combined with medication for some heart conditions. If my son did something like that, I would be quite horrified.'
The incident also led to calls for parents to keep a closer eye on medication kept at home. One father, whose son attends Forest School but was not involved in the incident last Thursday, said: 'Parents should teach their children more about what they are taking and the dangers of taking anything like Viagra, even check their rooms if necessary.'
Last year, 70 per cent of pupils at Forest School achieved five good GCSEs, putting it 864th out of more than 3,500 schools nationwide.
The school said: 'It is believed that a pupil brought the tablets in from home.
'The school responded quickly to the situation and, as a precaution-paramedics were called. All six have subsequently been discharged and are not expected to suffer any ill- effects. All of the tablets have been accounted for.
'The school has a strict no-drugs policy and a pupil will be temporarily excluded.'
Published by Associated Newspapers Ltd
Part of the Daily Mail, The Mail on Sunday & Metro Media Group
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Opinion
Comment: The truth about being a gay 16-year-old at an all boys boarding school
© 2022 PinkNews ⦁ All Rights Reserved
16-year-old Olly Hudson writes for PinkNews.co.uk about his experiences of being gay at a private all boys boarding school in the UK. He despairs at the homophobic environment and the lack of acknowledgement by the school that homosexuality even exists.
My name’s Olly, and I’m a 16-year-old from South Wales. I’m also gay. I decided to write this, mainly because I feel it’s time for someone of my background, to speak up for a whole swathe of the young gay population, who right now, are effectively ignored and left to fend for themselves by the mainstream media, and the environment in which they grow up.
I’m talking about being middle class. I’m talking about going to an independent day/boarding boys’ school, and I’m trying to get across to those who’ll listen, what it means to try and grow up in an environment where, perhaps, the most active and healthy part of any young person’s life, their sexuality, is repressed, ridiculed, though for the most part, willfully ignored by teachers and adults in positions of authority around them.
I haven’t always been a student at a private school, which for now will remain nameless. Until the age of 13, I, like most people, went to a comprehensive school. There, I was most comfortable and indeed spent most of my time in the company of girls. A seeming failure to ever really integrate and become ‘one of the boys’ was I’d admit, the main driving factor behind my decision to leave the school. When I reflect upon it, I wouldn’t have made the same decision to leave, had I my time again, though having not fully come to terms with my sexuality by the age of 13, this would never have played into any decision at the time. But leave I did, and I ended up in an all boys’ school. Again, probably not the most sensible decision on reflection, though that’s something that, really, I’ve realised more recently, as I finally accepted my sexuality, and came out to my closest friends.
I suppose, I wrote this too, to try and dispel a common-held ‘urban myth’ regarding boys’ schools, and boarding schools in particular. Generally, they’re seen as hives of latent homosexuality, places where boys, frustrated only in the company of other boys, inevitably turn to one another to experiment sexually, gay or not. It’s something widely caricatured in popular culture, though is let me assure you, a load of nonsense.
The reality is very much the opposite. So conscious are most of the boys in my school of the abundance of males (and rarity of females), not to mention the homosexual stereotype, that they go over and above to assert their masculinity, an apparently quintessential aspect of which is to see whose ‘banter’ can descend to the deepest depths of homophobic, inane, misogynistic abuse.
For most of the guys, this constitutes ‘banter’. In any other context, namely one in which women are present – i.e. real life – this would be abuse, though they refuse to see it as such, for who in an all boys’ school could possibly be offended or hurt in any way by this loutishness, when nobody who it affects is seemingly there to hear it? That is of course, forgetting the gay guys. There aren’t many of us, though naturally, there are more than you might think, though we are forced to sit there in silence, and endure an endless torrent of homophobic abuse, most of which is invariably ignored by male teachers. Would they continue if we outed ourselves? Who knows, but who are we to turn round and counter a class full of rowdy, senseless boys on a testosterone high? If we did, goodness knows the onslaught of abuse that would result.
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As I said, I think most of this comes out of an insecure, alpha-male desire to demonstrate conclusively to the other apes, that ‘I’m not gay’, but there are more, pernicious, and continually dangerous factors at play. I feel let down by those in positions of authority within the school. I feel angry, that in all my time at this particular school, I’ve had not one PSHE (personal, social and health education) lesson on the subject of homosexuality. Not one assembly on homophobia and its consequences. Not even the slightest acknowledgement – unless prompted – from many members of staff, that homosexuality even exists. I felt liberated in a recent philosophy class, led by an outside teacher, to be able to start a discussion on the nature of sexuality, and to really try and get my peers to acknowledge that being gay exists, and that it’s not something to suppress or live in willful blindness of. I think that was probably the first time I used the word ‘homosexuality’ in a classroom.
Although incredibly damaging to countless gay teenagers going through the school, this conspiracy of silence is also incredibly dangerous. How can we expect to do anything about the worrying rise in HIV diagnosis rates among young gay men, when from my experience, there exists not little, but zero homosexual sex education? Those who are perhaps less conscious of the risks of anal sex, owing often, to parental silence on the topic, are time and again being let down by a system which at present, is abjectly refusing to equip young men like myself, with the vital information to ensure that they run no risk of contracting a potentially devastating chronic illness.
I’ve thought about it more and more, and every time I do, it enrages me no end. That’s why homophobic arguments from the bigoted right against same-sex marriage, in fear that it might prompt the teaching of homosexual sex in schools, are actually life-threatening. In this case, prejudice, leading to silence on the issue, actually serves young men with a death-sentence.
I don’t pretend that things are all rosy for gay guys in state schools, because they most definitely aren’t. Prejudice exists in all corners of our society. But there can be no doubt that more is done, at least to make teenagers aware of the nature of homosexuality in the state system, than is done in the private sector, where it feels often, like the school has some kind of ‘don’t ask don’t tell’ policy in place.
I just wish that the taboo of talking about all things gay could be broken, and that has to emanate from the example set by authority. If senior teachers in private schools like mine, are making no effort to counter the disgraceful tide of homophobia that is just so virulent across the independent system, then we simply won’t see a shift in attitudes in this, affluent, and of course, influential sector of the population. And that’s the really scary bit. Unfortunately, the statistics tell us, that generally speaking, it’s going to be these guys who are the leaders of tomorrow, both in the world of business, and in spheres of political influence, and as a gay man, that scares me, it really does.
If you wish to write a comment article for PinkNews.co.uk, simply email news@pinknews.co.uk and one of the editorial team will be glad to review it.
Patrick Kelleher
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October 16, 2022
Huw Lemmey and Ben Miller
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October 6, 2022
Florence H R Scott
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August 16, 2022
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The cold, stainless steel urinal is a place where many men feel self-conscious. I know I certainly did when I was at school. But size wasn’t my issue.
15 Feb 2019 - 8:21 AM UPDATED 1 Jul 2020 - 2:53 PM
How it feels to be circumcised as an adult
“I think the issue comes down to the cultural aspect of, ‘I don’t want to talk about my d*ck. It works fine. I don’t want to acknowledge that it doesn’t.’”
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The cold, stainless steel urinal is a place where many men feel self-conscious. I know I certainly did when I was at school. But size wasn’t my issue. Appearance was.
Growing up as a 1980s Greek kid in an Australian school of children descended mainly from the British Isles, I felt my background acutely. I was ashamed of my long surname. I was embarrassed by my parents’ foreign tongue. I wanted to bleach my brown hair blonde and swap my brown eyes for blue. But above all, I wanted an inch of skin on my body gone. My foreskin.
It was a reminder of my difference in the most personal and intimate of places. A new feature-length documentary on Netflix American Circumcision , explores both sides of this controversial and taboo issue.
For me, it’s a topic which remains very personal.
"Eww, why does your willy look so weird…?!" was a refrain I often received.
I already had enough angles from which classmates could attack me. I didn’t need one more.
The majority of my male classmates had been circumcised. It was the practice at the time in Australian hospitals, but not in the Greek one where I was born.
At first, I tried to hide my shame. I went to one end of the urinal and turned away. When that didn’t work, I had to avoid the toilet during recesses and lunchtimes altogether, and time my visits to within class hours. This annoyed my teachers no end, and sometimes my bladder as well. But they didn’t understand.
The majority of my male classmates had been circumcised. It was the practice at the time in Australian hospitals, but not in the Greek one where I was born.
As a last resort, I retreated to the confines of the cubicle. It was the only way I could get any privacy. To avoid suspicion, I sat down on the toilet and pretended to do a number two, even ripping toilet paper at the end. A basic human function was taking up far too much time and energy.
Entering my blossoming teenage years, and despite my hopes, the hormone-charged teenage brain began to focus even more on the teenage groin. Embarrassment morphed into fear. What the hell would I do if I was ever with a girl? Would she avoid touching me there? Would she recoil in disgust? Would she tell the other girls? In my mind, the answer to all these questions was a resounding yes. Fortunately, a pair of thick glasses, bad frizzy hair, and a bumfluff moustache meant I was rarely in with a shot.
As a consequence, I stayed a virgin until my twenties. But by then, another fear had taken over – disease.
My foreskin wasn’t just embarrassing – it was congenitally tight. I was unable to retract it and stay hygienic inside. The medical term for this condition is phimosis . The word is from the Greek phimos meaning “muzzle”, which I found both highly appropriate and utterly charming. According to the Medical Journal of Australia , phimosis is common in young children but resolves in 99 per cent of cases by age 17 . I was in the remaining one per cent.
Doctors warned me of the increasing risk of penile cancer as I grew older. There were also risks of urinary retention, urinary tract infections, and sexual dysfunction.
The signs weren’t good. The older I got, the more my anxiety grew. Finally, at age 23, I could take no more. I decided to face my fears and confront the one word which had struck the fear of God in me for half my life: circumcision . Even the sound of it was like something being brutally incised.
I consulted a urologist; he was softly-spoken and kind-eyed. He explained there were risks with the procedure, but that there were with any medical procedure. "It’s a little more complicated at your age,” he explained, “but it’s still fairly straightforward.”
Reluctantly, I let him book me in. I told my friends that I was having a dental procedure and that they wouldn’t see me for a while.
Dressing into a paper thin surgical gown on the morning of the operation, I remember thinking, was I really going ahead with this? Was it the right thing? Was I mad? I had friends who had already fathered children. What if something went wrong and I never even got the chance to be with a woman?
I woke groggy from the anaesthetic. I had to brace myself to look down between my legs. They wouldn’t let me leave the hospital until I peed. Two weeks at home in baggy parachute pants followed, ambling around like an ageing cowboy. Sleeping was the worst. Unable to roll onto my side, I woke every hour with agonising muscle spasms, like an axe being plunged between my shoulder blades.
And then came the most painful moment of my life so far: the removal of my bandages. The young nurse at the local medical surgery was unlucky enough to perform the procedure. I screamed so loud that I swore I set off car alarms.
But then, there I was. All pink and smooth and circular, just like all the other kids. I wanted to find my old schoolmates and tell them – hey, I’m just like you.
Regular salt baths facilitated the rest of my healing. But was I functional? Losing my virginity not long after was a good sign. Eventually fathering kids
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