Look around. One of Nature's rarest assets, Red is reserved for emergencies and maximum impact: for strawberries and rubies, blood and brothels, roses and robes, fire and foxes, danger and devils, lipstick and wine. From dusk to dawn, She is saying "watch out boys" or "come and get it"!

Do Ginger Mingers really have the biggest bulges or is it just jealousy that has subverted the genetic grace and birthright of a red mop into some risible curse, not least amongst gay boys?

As queers, above all, might know, to be different - to stand out from the jeering crowd - is indeed a mixed blessing. And the pressure has proved too great for some with crimson curls. Instead of flaunting their crowning glory, internalised ging-phobia has misled many a red-head into denial, wearing silly closet hats, shaving or dying their pubes or turning into that colourful clown to deflect demeaning darts.

The result? We're hair-brushed from history and porn mag alike! There'd be hoards of horny red-haired role-models - from Greeks and Jews through to Scots and Celts - if only their colouring hadn't been hidden or suppressed, except where of use to abuse. If only queer Michelangelo had painted onto marble David's ravishing red locks; if only Nero'd been photo'd or Cagney and Tracy shot in colour.

Of course, gay red-tops Andy Bell and Jimmy Somerville can croon for England, but there's only one Gay Icon in the land these days. Blue-blooded cutsie Harry - who doubtless gets his red creds from William the Conqueror or Henry VIII - has stolen a march on hunk Prince Willy, inspiring countless private moments amongst a whole new generation of young male red-blooded red-rinsers.