Me and my big mouth ...

Often I am asked about awkward things that happen at shows. So I thought I'd jot a few down.

Recently I was working in a nudist colony (honest!) with a band fronted by two lovely girls. Towards the end, as I was over-running (again!), they crept round behind me and climbed on the stage ready for their second spot. I decided to big the girls up and pointed out one and complimented her on her outfit; the other I asked when her baby was due. Of course, she wasn't even pregnant (oops) and had a 6 month old toddler - don't you wish the ground would open up sometimes?

March 2009 - Now this is something that has probably happened before but no-one has pointed it out. Last night I was working in a rough, back street pub in Nottingham - my ideal audience! - I was doing my normal stuff taking the piss out of various women and their busts, large or small. The one woman who I picked on for her flat chest came up to me at the end of the night and complimented me on my act, which was very nice of her, and then told me that she had recently had a mastectomy! I started to apologise and she said not to as if she didn't laugh at life she could so easily cry. I still felt an idiot.

September 2009 - I was working in a venue up north to a less than full audience. One of the women was very amply figured and I asked if she was pregnant. She said no. I tried to dig myself out of the hole but only made things worse. Oops. At the interval a member of the management came over and told me the woman was distraught and in tears because I had picked on her and she had a medical condition that caused her to swell up. I was devastated. I never want any audience member to go away not having enjoyed themselves. So I went over to her and tried to apologise. She said she was fine so I told her what I had been told told. Again she repeated she was fine about it. A few minutes later we were both outside while she had a cigarette. She was telling her friend about it all so I piped up and said, in a loud voice, that some people should mind their own business and not get affronted on behalf of someone who wasn't upset. And they should keep their noses out. The woman concerned was standing close by and had the good grace to blush!

My favourite incident was in a gay bar up north several years ago. There was a table of half a dozen lesbians at the front of the stage. One was sat with her back to me throughout my act, which I thought was rude. Understandably I lambasted them, and especially her, when I got on the mike. It was only then that someone shouted out that they were deaf. I went up to her, faced her and exaggeratedly said 'Are you deaf?' She nodded. I lifted my dress and said 'You may be deaf but you can still f***ing lipread!' The pub collapsed in laughter (thank goodness)

I was working in a pub near Leicester on a hen night with no strippers (bizarre, I know). During the interval they pulled a raffle and I volunteered to call the numbers. I had noticed that during my act, every time I made a joke relating to sex a small Asian woman leaned over and whispered to her white friend. I assumed she was finding it all a bit risque so next time she did it I asked her friend what she was whispering about. She said it was that her English wasn't great and she was asking for the joke to be explained. Immediately I went into a rant and said 'Typical, they come over here, open corner shops everywhere and still ask for sex lessons' As it came out of my mouth I did wonder whether it was too racist but they all laughed.

At the same gig during the raffle one woman came up to collect a prize. Sitting down she had looked quite pretty, about 30 years old. When she stood up it was apparent she had the widest hips I have ever seen on a woman. So I asked her if she had children. She said no, I said 'Well, when you do, they will pop out with no problem' She didn't understand but the rest of the audience did!

Way back at the beginning of my career I used to work the straight pubs in London. One place that I worked regularly had a small-ish corner stage, 4ft high, which I had to leap from, dash through the audience and into the kitchen/changing room. I was doing a routine during which I got this guy up on the stage and started to undress him. I had timed it so that when I unbuttoned his shirt he would panic and run off the stage leaving me free to bow and go for my change. This time I picked on someone who was up for whatever I did. He just stood there. I went further than normal and removed his shirt. He just stood there. I dropped his trousers. He just stood there. Finally, in desperation, I spun him round to face the audience, dropped his pants, pushed him forward off the stage where he was caught, stage-surfing-style, by the audience. I then proceeded to walk up his back (in stilletoes) and into the audience for my next change. I fully expected some grief when I came offstage later. Sure enough, he was waiting at the bar for me. I approached him with some trepidation. He shook my hand and bought me a pint!!

I'll add some more tales as I remember them

Nottingham Pride 2008

All that being down on my knees before the weather fairy payed off and Nottingham Pride dawned with a beautiful day. The weather stayed hot (very hot) all day so that, for once, the emergency services actually had to attend to people - mostly too much sun.
Despite an almost completly new committee in charge of the festivities, all went well. They obviously did the sensible thing and picked the brains of the outgoing committee. Well done guys for a superlative day out.
Record numbers of attendees and more market stalls than ever before meant that the throngs had plenty to occuppy themselves between PA's on the main stage, cabaret on the Foresters' stage and dance acts on the Niche stage.
Even more than on previous years, many people took the trouble to dress up. The view from the main stage include a throng of very classy drag queens in costumes that would not look out of place in the new Priscilla musical; many people who had gone for a pink theme and the obligatory odd-balls whose choice of costume must surely stay as a secret between them and their therapists!
Despite all the bars running out of alcohol by about 4pm, most people stayed til the end and the now-traditional audience-participation rendition of I Am What I Am.

Extreme entertainment

Working as a Drag Act is a little odd because, unless we go out socially (which I hardly do) we seldom get to see other drag acts working. We get to see plenty of strippers but rarely other drag acts.
Also we seldom get to see the acts that work the Stag Show circuit. However, as hen and stag shows are often booked in pairs, one following the other, we often get to hear about each others' shows.
I have worked a few Stag Shows and, it has to be said, that watching some aging slapper writhing on the floor with her legs apart and her giblets flapping around is not my idea of an erotic experience. But each to their own.
Last night I was told of a female dancer who seems to have taken the idea of Cirque de Extreme to new levels!
At the start of her spot, before she had even gone on stage, she inserted a Snickers bar inside herself. By the time she got out amongst the punters it was melting and running down her legs. She asked if 'anyone wants to eat my shit?', leapt on the bar and wrapped her legs around the barman's face. He ended up with melted chocolate all over his face. Next she poured about a litre of soapy water into herself, squatted on a table and proceeded to fire squirts of water at the punters; apparently so accurately that she could shoot a cigarette from a guy's lips! Having soaked every guy in the bar (and not in the usual way!) she then proceeded to insert her own arm up her ass, lean back on her elbow and swivel on it!
How the hell am I supposed to follow an act like that? LOL

Now, the reason I am relating this is because of the way it affected my act. Because so many of the guys were outraged by her act they refused to allow their wives and girlfriends to go to a Ladies' Night in case the male strippers performed in a similar extreme manner. Hence, last night, we performed to just 10 girls.

In case you have never been to a Ladies' Night, let me reassure you that, even in the most liberal clubs, that level of extreme performance does not happen with male strippers on the Hen circuit.

Should auld aquaintence be forgot etc

As the end of the year fast approaches I find myself reflecting on the past 12 months.

Phew, what a great year!!

More bookings than ever; more rebookings than ever. The expected backlash from the smoking ban doesn't seem to have appeared at all. Most venues have reported that it has made no impact at all. However, with more work for us artistes, perhaps it is because they are trying harder to pull punters in. Also, this good news doesn't seem to cover the whole country. Friends down south report that Ladies' Nights are well down on last year but cabaret nights are the same. Up here in the North I would say, from personal experience, that we are busier than ever.

This year my work has been further afield than before; a spate of bookings in South Wales pushed my average through the roof and there were more bookings further North than I would normally go. However, with the fees for these bookings proportionately higher, I didn't mind.

So, all in all, a very good year.

See you all in 2008

A Tale of Two Gigs

Isn't it funny how two gigs just a few miles from each other on the same weekend can be so different?
This weekend I was booked to do two Ladies' Nights in Cambridgeshire. The first one on Friday had already been postponed from August and I told the Agent that I wouldn't accept another postponement (I had heard from a friend that ticket sales were slow to non-existent). The Agent phoned the organiser and was assured that ticket sales were brisk and it would not be cancelled under any circumstances this time. As it turned out there were just 20 girls in a venue that could hold 200+!! Very disappointing.
Saturday was the complete opposite. 100+ screaming women in a capacity venue with great facilities, very cheap alcohol and a good attitude. It was one of those nights when I was being applauded merely for walking onstage. They clapped every routine and laughed at all my jokes. What more can an ageing drag queen ask for? Thank you, St Neots xxx

Another eventful weekend!

OMG I do have to put some miles in to keep you girls happy!
This weekend I was in Walsall (NOT Birmingham, as the locals were at pains to point out! I don't blame them trying to distance themselves) entertaining a group of deaf girls! Well, me and a couple of strippers (Black Xctasy and Billy Ecstasy) approached it with an open mind and, it has to be said, had a great time. It was a little disconcerting doing my live patter and having to wait for the Signer to catch up but we managed.
Then it was down the M1, round the M25 and on to the south coast for a Hen Night just outside Brighton. Many years ago I used to live in brighton and was curious to see how it had changed. Changed? It was like a different place! I didn't recognise any of the route down.
However, the pub were were booked into was great (with two different strippers - I am so lucky working with new cocks ... errr boys every night! Thanks to Taurus and Devon). The girls were well up for a good night and made us all feel very welcome.
Having left home at 2.30pm I finally staggered home at 3am. Who says showbiz is glamorous?

Wot a weekend!!!

It all started so well .....

Thursday I was booked to do some meet-and-greet in Preston for the council.

I drove up north on Wednesday and stayed, a la Alan Partridge, in a Travel Lodge - and very comfortable it was. Thursday morning I was up bright and early for the 10 miles drive to Preston. The sat nav let me down and I couldn't find the town hall; even the three people I asked didn't know where it was!! However, a couple of phone calls and I was guided through the one-way system to a nice parking spot close by. The rest of the morning passed with much hilarity in the company of Claire Chanel and Etienne as we terrorised the locals heading for Qwik Save.

Thursday evening I was booked to do a Ladies' Night in Stockport, some 45 miles away. Finishing in Preston at 2.30pm I had an afternoon to kill. I drove into Manchester and decided to go and see the renowned Trafford Centre, a huge shopping mall which, on first sight, reminded me of the V & A in Cape Town. Very nice but way too big to spend on my feet for long.

I arrived in Stockport at about 5pm, found a convenient McD, ordered coffee and settled down with a book.

The venue at Stockport was very welcoming and we soon settled in for what promised to be a good show. Well, it was a good show for me; the poor strippers came off rather the worse for wear. The dressing room resembled a field hospital as the boys patched up the scratches, bites and bruises from the mob of girls in the audience.

Friday night and things got steadily more bizarre. I was in Scunthorpe in a club that has a monthly gay night. The show started on time but 4 minutes in and I had to call a halt while a rowdy element was removed. At the door the police were called and one drunken woman starting screaming assault. To be honest, if I HAD assaulted her then they would have seen the stilletoe sticking out of her head! So, there I am, sitting in the dressing room waiting for it all to calm down when I had to be interviewed by the police sitting in my tights and shoes. How embarrassing! Eventually it all calmed down and I carried on with the show. Unfortunately half the audience had left but it all turned out OK.

After all that I thought that the weekend could only improve so it was back up the M6 to Liverpool for another Ladies' Night. Well, what can I say about the venue? It adhered to every stereotype of scally scousers. It was rough, neglected and dirty. The punters were all staples of Bread or Harry Enfield. The walls were filthy, the ceiling ingrained with decades of cigarette smoke, the windows were more dirt than glass. In this atmosphere we were expecting to be slaughtered, chewed up and spat out. How wrong can you be. It was by far the best gig of the weekend. We had a great time with only a very small audience.

In the early hours of Sunday I staggered back down the M6, along the well worn path of the A500 and down the final 20 miles of the M1 to my bed.