I often seek out BYO restaurants, to avoid paying exorbitant prices for wine, and turn up at the appointed dinner time with a bottle in a brown paper bag. It’s convenient and I can choose from a wide variety, from still to sparkling, from white and rose to red. These days, in the aftermath of the legalisation of same sex marriage and its flow-ons, I can equally BYO my gender, my sexuality and my race and skin colour, without needing any reference to physical, observable reality.  

This is the new paradigm; you can just wrap-and-whip out your preferred gender – and change it at whim.