At Polari last night the bloggers came together to celebrate the art of blogging with readings by bloggers, and performances by bloggers... It's like being a Mason ..
What another fabulous night it turned out to be!
Skiving off the opportunity to reveal himself to his adoring public with the feeble excuse of being 10,000 miles away in Sydney, London Preppy sent a (rather pretty) substitute in his friend Mean (sic). The reading almost didn't take place at all as the original substitute reader didn't show up, and the extracts to be read out were only on email. Freedom - typical gay bar - had run out of printer toner, and there was a mad scramble to try and find an internet cafe in Soho to print it out... But, with his choice of a typically cynical blog about gay gym bunnies, we were enthralled.
Celine treated us to another of her bawdy classics, unsurprisingly featuring a whore from Soho, and then the main act took the stage.
Our real star was the ever-lovely Clayton Littlewood, reading (and performing) extracts from his blockbuster Dirty White Boy - Tales of Soho (which began as a blog). Brilliant as always, Clay embellished his reading with a full re-enactment of a couple of scenes:
- Arch decadent dandy Sebastian Horsley was played with spooky realism by - Sebastian Horsley!
- And the fans' favourite character Leslie was portrayed with effortless campery by none other than the lovely Dexter Clark - Celebrity Hairdresser - minus the wig(!).
Brilliantly entertaining stuff! With the house as packed as it was last night, I hope Clayton shifted a few copies of the book.
Yet the biggest laugh of the night was still to come, and it was one that very few people could have been prepared for...
Yes, indeed! As a precursor to the rest of the jollities that DJ Paul Burston had lined up for us, both he and the effervescent Rupert Smith donned skirts and flashed their scanties at the begging masses - complete with "Grace" and "Jones" emblazoned across the important bits! I bet the lady herself would have been proud.
We ended the evening pissed on expensive gin and heady with a range of music from Cole Porter to the 10 minute Macarthur Park Suite by Donna Summer...
A genius night, and I look forward to more divine decadence in January!
Polari
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