1. Leslie- Leslie is an old Norfolk name which first appears in the Domesday Book and is thought to be a contraction of “Ye old LES bian who does nothing but LIE about drinking apple cider”

2. Marsha- A Hebrew name meaning “She who won’t touch pork nor the pork sword”

3. Sandy or Sandra Lee or Shandy- One of the rarest of lesbian names but common in Asian countries and amongst the deaf. Coincidentally the name Shandy said with a South African accent sounds remarkably like the call of the Knotted Clitt Warbler, the only purely homosexual bird in existence.

4. Liz- A diminutive of Elizabeth or the old English Beowulfiliz, meaning “She who lays not with hogs but other sheilas”

5. Kate- from the Afrikaans, Oosterkateervagineekraak meaning “stout with hair like a man up her backside”

6. Chris- One of the all time great lesbian names was invented by the poet laureate Sir Anthony Knobwell-Goode in 1945 whilst searching for a name for one of his sonnets for The Queen Mother’s 135 birthday.

7. Jill- the most common of lesbian names was thought to have been imported into Britain with the Romans who worshipped Jillius, the inventor of the first roman fast food, the furburger which consisted of a tiny rat like marsupial char grilled and placed between two pieces of Roman Army Bread. When Jillius died the whole Roman Army mourned her, and it is thought that despite her obvious homosexuality and overgrown pant moustache that Julius Nobulous, cousin of Cocius of Sacc requested her hand in marriage.
This has been a public service announcement on behalf of biva.co.uk because biva cares, above all, for the lesbian.

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Summer’s here and we’ve got some delightful prizes for you gays to win in our ‘Win Some Gay Summer Prizes’ Comp.

First prize up for grabs is an original pair of Murder She Wrote Lesbicon star Angela Lansbury’s underpants, pictured left.

This gorgeous piece of gay memorabilia can only appreciate in value and the brown hessian knee length originals would look fabulous framed and hung on your wall.

All you have to do to be in the running for this piece of Hollywood history is to answer this question-
Angela Lansbury is first cousins with which other lesbicon-
A- Julie Andrews
B- Elizabeth Taylor
C- Joan of Arc

Send your answer along with a stamped self addressed envelope and a cheque for £35 to-
Biva HQ
17/ a Hyacinth Bucket House
IH677 9PO
Parishiltonshire

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Another sapphic delight from the great Janine Fuchs-Neuchel, poet in resident at the Adelaide festival of the Arts, Crafts and Macrame

Oh Canada
Your maple sugar lips sticky with fuschia
Your autumn hair glinting russet and gold
We drink cider
Canada
With a scummy ooze floating on top
That you tell me is butter
And cinnamon quills
Your black eyes
Canada
Like pissing in the snow
Like a great jagged hole in the ice
Like a harpooned seal
Your black eyes
Round with ecstasy
Or not
I canÂ’t tell
But if it were
Surely you would
Be groping me by now

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The wizened old nun looked up from her espresso and stared out toward the piazza , watching the children run to and fro, chasing pigeons and shouting to each other in Italian.
“Fly birdy, fly away” she heard one small voice cry out.
She watched the boy clap his hands behind the pigeon and as the bird took flight the boy chased along behind for a second.
The sun had begun to set and the nun was feeling chilly. She ordered a whiskey from the young waiter who stood on the steps of the cafe watching the children.

“Un whiskey perfavore” said the nun.
“Sure” said the waiter, pleased to show off his english language skills.
She followed him inside with her eyes, she watched him laughing with the barista. She knew what they were laughing at.
Young men always laughed at old nuns, especially when they had pigeon shit all down their back.

The pigeon had shat on her earlier in the day. It must have had stomach trouble she thought, the shit had been enormous and had smelt strongly.
“No wonder” she thought to herself, “a diet of KFC and pizza was hardly a traditional diet for a pigeon.
A nun from birth she had been raised to treat all gods cretaures with reverence and the pigeon was no different. Just because it had crapped all down her back was no reason to hate the poor creature, and besides, as the shit had dried it had begin to smell less and she was less bothered by the………..

To win a BIVAir teeshirt simply answer the following question:
What was the name of the pigeon that shat down the nuns back?

A-Ludovigo
B-Janine

send your entries to BivaHeadquarters

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The sun had nearly set but not quite as Liz Monroe made her way down the quay to Nancy Jeans quay side bar. It was a place where she knew she would find solace amongst her own. She was a lady who loved ladies and here, at Nancy Jean’s Bar and Lady Love Dance Hall She would find the very peace she craved to heal her wounded heart.

As she swung open the door, the heavy beat of Melissa Etheridge greeted her ears and she made her way to the bar past the throngs of heaving lesbian bodies, breast against breast, feeling the beat of the music pulsing up from the floor through the lesbian legs and across the trembling mound of venus and on and up to their hearts and then faces. This was the kind of place Liz called home. And she was proud.

It hadn’t always been that way though. And Liz knew it.

Though tonight she wasn’t going to let that upset her. She made her way past the heaving throngs moving their bodies to the thump of Joan Armatrading and sat herself down at the bar on the only available stool. She gazed around at the plethora of lesbian flesh moving and grooving in time to the tones and tunes of Kd Land and felt her foot start to tap automatically without effort against the bar.

Joyce, the friendly barmaid with whom Liz had once enjoyed a brief fling, approached Liz and exclaimed, “You look like you could use a drink Lizzy”. Lizzy liked it when Joyce, the weatherbeaten former fisherman used her nickname. It made her feel one of the crowd and she smiled as she ordered a campari and soda and then turned back to see the heaving masses of lesbian bodies moving in time to Dusty Springfield.

As she sipped at her drink she though back to some of that lady loving she had shared with Joyce so long ago and as she watched the young set move to the grooves of Elton John’s Nikita she slipped quietly down memory lane and allowed herself to drift off to happier times, oblivious to the thump of the disco beat moving through her still suppole breasts…….”go on,” she remembered, “go faster”. And she was lost then, in time, the time of Joyce.

I couldn’t, little did she know. Since my accident I had been unable to go any faster than I was doing right now. But Joyce, I could sense she was the kind of girl who needed fast, and I, well, maybe I just wasn’t the gal for her. “Joyce” I said softly into her her ear, “I guess I can’t go any faster, my love”.
Joyce face turned toward me and at that moment I knew full well that our love was over.
It would be hard to love someone as myself. A woman, though strong in spirit, weak in the flesh.

Joyce eased herself up from the bed and looked into my eyes, “I care so much for you, but …I guess I need someone a little stronger than you. I could have loved you, though it would have been oh so very unfair on both of us for a love to go any deeper, a love that we both know would cause pain in the end.”
I had to admit that Joyce was right. I stood up from the bed and put some Janis Ian on the turntable and turned back to Joyce. “Would you care to dance my lady love”? I said and held my hand out to her.
She took my hand and raised herslef up off the bed and we moved tenderly around her caravan, both fully conscious that this would be our last dance. That tomorrow she would be dancing with another and I, I would most likely be dancing with no one.

Liz sipped at her drink and list herself to thought as Martina Navratilova’s new track spun on the turntable. She watched the young lady lovers move and groove and wished that she too had been able to move and groove in such totally homosexual manner. But life hadn’t turend out like that for Lizzy. And she knew it and that, that simple fact made her sad.

She turned her face away from the throbbing crowd and fished in her dungarees for her lucky strikes. As she moved the cigarette up toward her lesbian lips, lips that tonight, she knew, would not be meeting those of another, a hand came from no where and struck up a light.

Lizzy’s cigarette sparked in to life as she drew deeply on the filter, drawing the generous smoke into the eager lesbian lungs.
She turned to see who it was who had lit that tiny fire at the end of her lips.
And when she looked into the eyes of the women who had sparked that luck strike into life, she felt her heart stike into life once again.

And she felt a tiny fire light in other lips, other lips that hadn’t seen such light for such a long long, lady lovin time………

to be continued…………………

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