RTV, OTV, RG, CD, TS, PTS - confused? So is Ken Hell, a PTV struggling to assert the rights of the Potential Transvestite and trying to come to terms with the fact that he hasn't pulled since that New Year's Karaoke Night down the Rat & Slapper. Altogether now:

'Kin 'ell, it's Ken Hell!

(P.S. do you like the lime green? It's the colour of the shell suit given to me by Mark Lawson for Christmas.)

Hi, I'm Ken. Welcome to my world. It's not very nice, but I'm nice, so I hope you'll come on in. Before you do though, I would like to make it clear that my name is Ken, the masculine, not bleeding Kenette or anything. Make no mistake, I'm a real man.

But as you've probably guessed, I'm a sensitive sort. I acknowledge my feminine side although there is NO RISK WHATSOEVER of it taking me over. I've done some pretty outrageous things, though.

I once walked past Dorothy Perkins and stopped to look at a dress in the window. And although I've never tried on a wig, I bought a stand in anticipation of the day when I will have my very own syrup to put on it. I think that polystyrene head in the closet symbolises my dilemma. It's sitting there right now, looking like a... symbol. Sometimes when I open the door I feel oppressed by the way it symbolises at me.

I'm a modern man, too. I moisturise daily, but only with baby oil, and only on my cock. Grrr. I'm not against those dark people and I once sat next to a man on a bus who had AIDS. Well, I can't be sure about that, but he looked a right bender to me. And there's nowt they can teach me about diseases anyway. 'Kin 'ell, I've had a few, I can tell you. I still have nightmares about that Glynis from the jamrag factory. That mucky bird had fanny fish. She gave me knob nuts!

Ooh, Mavis, no! Stop it lass! Sorry, Mavis is my doting whippet/rottweiller cross. That's one bitch I don't intend to smack up! Just my little joke there. "Ooh," I hear you good ladies say, "sense of humour, too. Mmm, time to put that big black dildo back in the drawer." Oh yeah, I am the great white hope.

Anyway, I think it's about time that them fucking Regular Transvestites and Pre-op Transsexuals we keep reading about stood aside and let a new voice be heard. If any of you are reading this, let me say that I've had just about enought of you push-me-pull-you freaks. I define myself as a Potential Transvestite because I have honed my feminine innards to the point where I may soon wish to express them by occasionally wearing the threads of the fairer sex.

Oh ladies, think how you would benefit from letting me into your inner sanctum. I could talk to you about clothes and wings and things and then give you a right good seeing to because, remember, I'm all man underneath. 'Kin 'ell, if you're a bit kinky, you could pretend I'm a tart and that you're getting a bit of lezzer action, whilst subconsciously appreciating the awesome power of a real man's tool.

So, if any of you Real Girls out there - and I mean REAL GIRLS - fancy helping me develop my feminine innards, I'll be glad to get them out for you.

Lots of love

Ken xxxx