I've never met a gay man who didn't love ABBA. And trust me, I've met quite a selection in my time different types, different ages and different social lives - both in Sweden and abroad. Of all the icons of today, ABBA feels most like a gay lowest common denominator.

Maria Callas is too highbrow, Jeff Stryker too lowbrow. No one younger than forty has even heard of Judy Garland. And Bette Midler and Donna Summer are just as unknown to the under-thirty set.

Even Barbra Streisand and Tom of Finland can provoke arguments in some quarters. But the gay man who doesn't get excitedly erect arm hairs when hearing Dancing Queen doesn't exit. If he does, he's a closet hetero. In the eyes of ABBA we're all alike.

And the whole thing is completely illogical when you think about it; Four super straight squeaky clean dimwits, as far away from self-destructive divas and Cabaret decadence you can get.

Shining stars in homo heaven have to have strong sexual charisma, outsider potential or at least to be "cross over" something or other. You can hardly accuse ABBA of that.

Neither Björn nor Benny could possibly make the list of gay jerk off fantasies. And we can't even begin to think of them as outsiders - ABBA came from the well-off white middle class with enough family appeal to appear on majority posters. And the only thing they crossed over was the taste limit with their outfits.

Even their private lives would make a scandal seeking drama queen react with an ill-humoured yawn. No drugs, no juicy gossip - happy divorces don't rate in a discerning AbFab culture built around drugtaking Liza Minnellis and childbeating Joan Crawfords. I for one can't imagine Linda Ulvaeus getting the wire hanger treatment when mummy Agnetha had a bad hair day. (Then again, did anyone in ABBA ever have a good hair day ?)

There is nothing in the lyrics for gay men hungry for identification and used to going through every verse with a fine tooth comb looking for hidden messages and symbolism. Here it's "One man, one woman" almost all the way.

When they did hit the jackpot, it was always by mistake. Stikkan Andersson, their manager, might have been shrewd, but Dancing Queen wasn't a planned flirtation with the influential gay market. He simply set out to write nice, although slightly Lolita-esque, lyrics about the most gorgeous nymphet on the dancefloor, and had to use his dictionary to do it. He might have heard of Freddy Mercury, but the word "queen" meaning anything except royalty was beyond him.

Slightly more twisted is Björn Ulvaeus' double entendre meant for underaged groupies in Does your mother know that you're out ?. The original intention is lost on the gay boys who happily interpret it in a completely different way, and holler along whilst pointing at the closeted guys on the dancefloor.

No, the true reason for ABBA achieving cult status among gay people is their kitsch value.

For some reason the gay world is obsessed with kitsch. We take anything in plastic, sentimental or over the top to our hearts immediately - be it golden boots or angelic choirs. In some cases the attraction to clichés, pomposity and dramatic trembling vibratos seem almost stronger than the attraction to the same sex.

ABBA has all of this - and then some. And most importantly, unlike deliberately constructed kitsch Aqua or Army of Lovers, it's the real thing. Benny truly loved his angelic choirs, and the group never picked their stage outfits to be ironic - they thought they looked brilliant in those horrendous cat dresses and Miss Piggy tights.

This particular fab four went their separate ways in 1982 and then, then years later, they had a massive revival all over the world. Since that time, they have entered the "evergreen-pop" division together with people like The Beatles, Elton John and Fleetwood Mac, and that's where they'll stay - forever.

As a result, Benny's music is mercilessly used as muzak : in shopping malls all over the world, you can hear purchase inducing organ renditions of Money, Money, Money from the speakers. Sexless German James Last choirs hum I Have a Dream in hotel elevators and onboard airlines. When visiting a Kentucky Fried Chicken in San Juan last winter, I was served a sleepy "synthesizer" version of Our Last Summer together with a doughy chicker burger.

Note that during the quiet decade, when most of the world took a break from ABBA, the music took on a life of its own. When Joe Public started getting into Michael Jackson, ABBA became cult and instant retro chic among odd outcasts in dark subterranean venues.

Visitors had the right depressive edge for the crowds in Berlin's New Wave clubs, Mamma Mia blared out of London's punk bars, and in New York an historical shift began to emerge - today Dancing Queen had replaced Village People's YMCA as the official gay anthem.

The greatest mainstream group ever was kept alive by subcultures - not suburbia until they re-emerged. It's almost symptomatic that the covers by Erasure - yes, that queeny duo - acted as a catalyst for ABBA's comeback.

Today, ABBA is mass culture and subculture at the same time. They are both trendy and common - a balancing act only mastered by Madonna and Bowie. It's impressive since ABBA hasn't recorded any new material in over fifteen years.

When we enter a gay club, be it in Paris, Cape Town, New Orleans, Moscow or Stockholm, we always find that it sounds "as good as new". ABBA is a musical stimulant which increases our pleasure, tickles our bodies and makes everyone around us very happy.

Quite simply very gay.