Showing posts with label Ida Barr. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Ida Barr. Show all posts

Thursday, 3 July 2025

Hokey-Cokey, Music Hall and Missy Elliott

Finally! I (and Madam Arcati, Hils, Crog and Bence) can make a claim to fame - we appeared on stage at Wilton's Music Hall!

OK, it was only "doing the Hokey-Cokey", but it counts...

The occasion, of course, was (another) fantabulosa evening's entertainment courtesy of the wonderful, the one and only Ida Barr!

Ida - the creation of the genius that is Christopher/Kit Green [see here] - is, of course, one of our fave comedy acts [Hils and Crog even had her perform/hold court at their wedding reception!], and although we have been to see her on many occasions, she didn't disappoint...

Her mash-ups of Music Hall numbers (and even "Will.i.am" Blake's Jerusalem) with modern urban music (the style she calls "Artificial Hip-Hop") are the stuff of legend:

And as for that Hokey-Cokey/Conga line, no Ida Barr show would be complete without one!

A wonderful night, as ever - and we even bumped into Kit on her way home (she lives just around the corner from us in Wood Green) and paid due homage for providing us with such a fun show...

Saturday, 15 March 2025

Beware...



...The Idas of March!

[L-r: Ida Barr, Ida Lupino, Ida Clough]


"Infamy! Infamy! They've all got it in for me!"

Ides of March on Wikipedia

[In case you have a feeling of deja vu, dear reader, this has become a bit of a tradition - see here and here. Too good not to repeat, methinks...]

Sunday, 26 August 2018

Get Old or Die Tryin'



Such larks!

On Friday evening, Hils, Crog, Madam Arcati, Julie, Ants, Mark and I all trotted off to a tent(!) on the South Bank, in the rain, to revel in the madness of Ida Barr's Bingo show!

Ida - the creation of the genius that is Christopher Green [see here and here] - is, of course, one of our fave comedy acts [Hils and Crog even had her perform/hold court at their wedding reception!], and although we have been to see her on many occasions, she didn't disappoint...

Her Bingo calls are anarchic:


Her mash-ups of Music Hall numbers (and even "Will.i.am Blake's Jerusalem") with modern urban music (the style she calls "Artificial Hip-Hop") are hilarious:


And, of course, no Ida Barr show would be complete until you've done the Hokey-Cokey and a Conga line:


Heaps of fun - topped-off with me having a very late night at Halfway II Heaven indeed - we wouldn't have missed it for the world!

Thursday, 18 February 2016

Priapic fascination, sword-swallowing, hypnotic behaviour, a cinaedus and a jar of jelly-beans



It's LGBT History Month again - and our first event of this estimable feast of historical insights was Polari on Tuesday. Of course.

Hostess-with-the-mostest at "London's peerless gay literary salon" Mr Paul Burston, in the absence of partner-in-crime VG Lee had seated us (John-John, Alex, Jayne and I) in the "Royal Box" (one of the front tables), leaving Paul, Bryanne, Simon and the rest to languish in the stalls... We waved, regally. Occasionally.



Anyhoo - opening this month's show was historian Jennifer Ingleheart, with her fascinating talk (technically, a mini-lecture, given that we had handouts and everything) Romosexuality. Cleverly weaving in references to both EM Forster's classic gay love story Maurice and the Victorian pornographic novel Teleny (purportedly written, at least in part, by Oscar Wilde), her point was to illustrate how, in spite of repeated scorn from scholars through the ages, it is in fact the Roman perspective on gay relationships rather than the idealised Greek which bears more relevance to our modern lives:
Areas in which specifically Roman rather than Greek sexual practices and ideologies intersect in significant ways with modern homosexualities include, in particular, Rome’s ‘Priapic’ fascination with well-endowed males, its greater concentration on and candour about sex, and its adherence to a less rigidly structured age-related model of same-sex relationships than that of Greek pedagogic pederasty; Roman texts contain more examples of men’s desire for and sex with other adult males, and have thus been read as authorizing same-sex relationships which involve partners defined by their same-sex attraction rather than their desire for the sexually other...

Despite its prominence in scholarly accounts of homosexuality, and its important role for early gay rights activists, it might be argued that Greek homosexuality does not play a comparable role in contemporary popular culture: its pederastic aspect provides a stumbling block for many gay men.
Excellent stuff - as I am sure fellow gay historian and regular host of History Month events at our beloved Petrie Museum, John J Johnson (in the Polari audience for the very first time) agreed.



Next to the stage was poet David Clarke, who read a selection of works from his collection Arc. From that anthology, this...
Sword-Swallowing for Beginners
Start by flicking the fleshy switch at the back
of your throat. When you’ve thrown up a dozen times,
you’ll find the impulse subsides – you can sit for hours
with a knuckle softly pressed inside your head,

watching rolling news of the war. Insert spoons,
knitting needles, a length of plumber’s pipe.
Stare at the ceiling, your jaw loose as a gorging
python’s, and try to conjure those shocks that pass

through the body, but leave it intact – the rasp of panicked
breath, the whump of a nearby explosion, a scream.
Or think of the soldier who coughed up a sleeping bullet,
shrapnel burrowing out of a human thigh

to freedom. By then you’ll be ready to take a blunted
bayonet, silver and slick with spit. Arrange
your body around that deathly spindle,
repeat to yourself – I am unharmed. Unharmed.
Slurp!



Closing the first half, our chum Chris Green - most famous as the delightful Hip Hop Music Hall legend Miss Ida Barr (who we like so much, my sister even had her play at her wedding reception!). One thing we never knew was his lifelong fascination with hypnotism, and it was from his new book on the history of the subject Overpowered! from which he read a few engrossing pieces before inviting questions from the audience. And speaking of engrossing, how about his newest stage creation, The Singing Hypnotist?


Suitably - ahem - mesmerised, it was time for a quick break for a fag and a top-up.

Our next reader, novelist Sarah Walton has dedicated herself to her art. To prepare for writing her debut Rufius [his caricature heads this blog], Miss Walton studied for a PhD and, in her words "immersed myself for five years in the everyday clutter of ancient Roman lives – from favourite recipes to remedies for genital warts." She introduced the book thus:
"Meet Rufius, flamboyant hedonist with perfect eyebrows. Rufius is a cinaedus, Latin for an effeminate buggeree. Far from the hard, muscular Roman ideal, cinaedi wore make-up, curled their hair, plucked and painted on their eyebrows. They could be thought of as an ancient Roman version of transgender. The laws that condemned these men to public burning became more severe under the Christian Emperors, but Rufius is having none of it. He’s not ashamed of wearing his mother’s cameo brooches on his toga, and he’s not going to stop talking with a lisp because of a bunch of jumped up bishops!"


And who better to portray the man himself but Chris Green (again), complete with all the mincing..?
"Fill my glass, boy."

What a drag. Avoid the pirates, Damasus had said. I could strangle him. Who’d have thought I’d be cast off to the East? I must be the only cinaedus exiled in the history of the Roman Empire. Exile’s a punishment reserved for senators and poets. Legally it’s a valid sentence for my kind, but no judge would bother... unless bribed by Damasus, the Arch-bloody-bishop of Rome. Curse you, Damasus. I’ll fleece you for this...

"Curse that Archbishop and his double chins – at least he has a few more than me." Men are tortured and beheaded without a trial for being in possession of heretical books. Exile and in league with that scoundrel! But what choice did I have when he waved the law at me … and the Emperor Gratian wrapped around his fat finger... "Need I remind you of the punishment for being a cinaedus, Rufius?" I recall the smell of the roses in the Lateran Basilica that day. Yellow rose petals, crushed in Damasus’ hand, fluttered through his fingers as he spat out the word cinaedus. His laughter at having me cornered still makes me shiver with rage. I’ll fleece him for this. If he thinks he’s getting fifty percent of the profits he’s misjudged me. The best way to hurt Damasus is in his precious purse.

"Pharos," shouts a deck hand. "Lighthouse. Starboard."

"Shut him up will you, dear?" I reach out to stroke the slave’s hair. "I can’t tip you, but I can give you a kiss." He lets me pet him, ready to jump away at the slightest angry twitch. He’ll receive a decent tip for putting up with my ill temper. Simple joys, like surprising slaves with the odd forbidden possession, are what keep my pulse throbbing these days.
Campness abounds. Utterly sublime.



Only a reader of the brilliance of our eternal favourite Mr Jonathan Harvey could follow that! Reading from his new novel The Secrets We Keep, he teased us with the mysterious tale of Natalie "...that woman, the one whose husband disappeared. It's made me quite famous. I just wish it was for something else. He went out five years ago for a pint of milk and never came back. So here I am with a daughter who blames me for all that's wrong in the world, a son trying his best to pick up the pieces and a gaggle of new neighbours who are over friendly, and incredibly nosy. Then I find a left luggage ticket in the pocket of one of his old coats and suddenly I'm thinking... What's if he's not dead? What if he's still out there somewhere?" Here's a snippet:
It was the late eighties, and lots of loft apartments and offices lay empty. And it was at a party in one of these that I met a gorgeous guy just a year or two younger than me who was addicted to jelly bean sweets. This was Danny. He claimed he’d seen me out and about around London, working the door of a club near Piccadilly Circus. I had no recollection of him. But before I could say so he’d offered me a sweet. The rest, as they say, is history.

For years he kept a jar of these sweets in the fridge. I used to bicker with him that there was no need, those sweets don’t really go off, but he said he liked the colour they brought to the fridge. They were his sweet of choice and he enjoyed the ritual of opening the door, pulling the nipple shaped lid off the jar in the door, and furtling around inside for a handful of the multicoloured beans. After he disappeared I didn’t dare move them from their home. If that fridge was jelly-bean-free it meant I had given up hope. He would return. He would furtle and eat again.
The left luggage ticket and the jelly beans themselves come back into the story as our heroine decides to use subterfuge to investigate more. On discovering that a woman had come to collect the "lost" parcel, she gets a job as her cleaner - and it's then she discovers a familiar jar in her fridge...

We were on the edge of our seats - but will need to read the book to find the true story.

This was a splendid evening (once again), and, despite being left wanting more - it was a brilliant way to start out LGBT History Month celebrations.



Our next outing for Polari on 9th March will be part of the South Bank's Women of the World festival, and features headliner Polari First Book Prize 2013 winner Mari Hannah, together with Jacquie Lawrence, Sophie Sparham and VA Fearon and (again) Sophie Ellis-Bextor's mum Janet Ellis. Can't wait!

Polari website

Sunday, 1 March 2015

Jimmy, Judy, Al, Ida, Kimmy, a whore and me



What a momentous evening the end-of-LGBT-History-Month Gala Ball turned out to be!

We (John-John, Mark, Hils, Crog and I) were already excited at the prospect of seeing our headliner Jimmy Somerville - and, of course, about having another bloody brilliant excuse for dressing-up (one of the original things about the evening was to "come as your favourite historical character"; this had disappeared from the publicity by the time the flyers were out, but we didn't care). Hils dressed in full Suffragette uniform, Crog as Kemel Ataturk crossed with the shopkeeper from Mr Benn, I was some kind of meld between Lord Foppington and a Liberace impersonator, John-John came as Mr Humphries (hee hee) and Mark as a version of Liza Minnelli...







Our venue was the eccentric and twee Conway Hall, home to The Ethical Society, Darwinists, Humanists and every other sort of radical anti-establishment intellectual cause. Its great hall, stripped of furniture, looked even more impressive than I remembered it [the majority of events I've been to here have been in the somewhat "schoolroom-like" antechambers], and the capacity crowd represented a fine cross-section of ages, sexes, sexualities, gender identities, colours and creeds, as one would expect.



Opening the proceedings was our MC for the opening segments of the evening, the irrepressible "Whore of Hampstead Heath" Sandra, who warmed the audience up as only she can (and also in the process made a very welcome announcement that after her recent health scare, she is now "cancer-free"). Entertaining as Sandra is, of course, as was Trudy Hewson's poetry, it was when she got the crowd to part down the middle that we realised that a real star was in the building - and about to make a spectacular entrance.



Mzz Kimberley (for it was she) practically exploded into the room, sashaying up and down among the delighted crowd, exercising her phenomenal tonsils on (most appropriately) Dame Shirley Bassey's History Repeating. Taking to the stage itself (with difficulty, up the steep proscenium steps - although thankfully she didn't "do a Madonna"), she continued to wow the crowd on big numbers like Aretha's Reach.

She is utterly amazing, and we were gob-smacked. Here she is at another show singing Papa Told Me Not To Come:


How does one follow an extravaganza like that? With a former Music Hall singer whose repertoire includes urban vibes, innit!



Of course, we were overjoyed that our favourite purveyor of "Artificial Hip Hop" Ida Barr was on the bill. She made such an impression on our gang when we first saw her on stage that Hils and Crog even hired her to perform at their wedding! Naturally, she had the crowd singing along and completely nonplussed (a medley of the hymn Jerusalem with Nicki Minaj, anyone?) in turn.

In case anyone wants to understand just what the bloody hell I am on about, here's Ida's new song BPM:


"Use your culture, or lose your culture!"



The remarkable Al Pillay is a stalwart of old-school campaigning, a former pop star and television actor, and a brilliant show-person. At last year's Ball, he/she saved the day with a buzzing high-energy set of dancy numbers. This year he/she was more in the mood for some rallying protest songs, and we were treated to such crowd-pleasers as The Times They Are A-Changin’ and some dire words of warning about the dangers of complacency about voting in this election year.

Brilliant - and a perfect lead-in to the thing most people were waiting for - the appearance on stage of the legendary (and surprisingly sexy) Jimmy Somerville! I nearly died (this was the first time I have ever seen him live).



Being a very special one-off appearance for LGBT History Month, he simply had to perform many a gay boy's anthem (including mine) Smalltown Boy, and, this being only a short set, he concluded with the song that had the whole room jumping up and down - Don't Leave Me This Way. But in between, he spoke movingly and at length about his own experiences of being young, gay and radical in the 80s, of being part of the movement that spawned Lesbians and Gays Support the Miners (see my blog about the story behind the movie Pride), and the sense of loss he felt when his good friend Mark Ashton of that group became one of the early casualties of the terrifying AIDS epidemic. And then, he sang a number that he admitted he hadn't sung for over a decade...

Like a bolt from the blue, the lyrics started: "I never cried the way I cried over you." I could feel the wave of emotion across the audience as those of us who had been there, who had actually suffered those losses as Jimmy had, began to cry; hearing his treasured classic For A Friend for the first time in years.

Tears were streaming down my cheeks: "As I watch the sun go down, watching the world fade away, All the memories of you come rushing back to me." We hugged, strangers united in our collective memories. This is our history. This was needed.




I was, however, immensely glad for the relief of that Thelma Houston gay anthem, and the chance for a good old rollicking bop.

Jimmy Somerville, I love you.



I felt sorry for Camden's very own top-drawer drag legend Earl Grey. For, once those people who only came to see Jimmy had left en masse, and Al Pillay had done the raffle (which always takes ages), there was quite a depleted audience for his superb "Judy Garland" act. But my heavens, it was worth it - he flawlessly captures every tic, every movement, every inflection of the Original Gay Icon (note the capitals), and should be far more highly recognised for it than, say, the eternally dreary Rufus Wainwright.

With the closing hour thrown over to the campest-of-camp disco and pop, courtesy of DJs Jonathan Kemp, Sadie Frost and Alexander Price, we were sated.





This was one fantastic evening! Nigel, Tessa and the gang at Camden LGBT Forum did us proud.

Monday, 6 May 2013

Get Old Or Die Tryin'



We have not long got back from Essex, where we spent an enjoyable couple of days with the boys of Braintree Manor (Steve and Alex), mainly just sitting in the sunshine in their extensive gardens recovering after the non-stop exotic dancing of the wedding party...

I have not forgotten it is still Tacky Music Monday, however! For a change, rather than my usual visit to the world of Hollywood extravaganzas (see yesterday's post on Alice Faye for that sort of thing) or showcasing exotic wannabee divas from far-flung climes, I thought I'd stick closer to home - to the East End of London, to be accurate.

For Hils and "History Boy" had prepared a genuine surprise treat as entertainment at their wedding party on Saturday - such a closely guarded one that even I did not know who was due to come on until the very last minute. Treating the assembled gathering of family, friends and bar staff(!) to her own singular brand of cross-generational mash-ups and hokey-cokey was none other than our own, our very own Music Hall Singer and Hip Hop/Rap Artist Superstar - Miss Ida Barr! We were thrilled beyond belief...


In case anyone needs to know more about "the people's pensioner" and how she came to create her classic mixes of such traditional choons as The Boy I Love Is Up In The Gallery with Eminem or Jerusalem with Nicki Minaj, here she is telling the story of her life and career and how she got into R'n'B - her film Artificial Hip Hop (a.k.a. The Angina Monologues):


It was a brilliant turn, a perfect addition to a lovely day's celebrations - and we loved it!

Ida Barr official website


STOP PRESS - Tuesday 7th May

Just in...



Now that's what I call a party!

Saturday, 30 April 2011

Who'd have thought..?



... we could have so much fun in an upside-down purple cow?



The one, the only, Music Hall Singer and Hip Hop Artist Superstar Miss Ida Barr brilliantly held the (slightly diminished by wedding fever) audience in stitches, as she conducted an afternoon of bingo (with prizes by Oxfam and the local pound shop!) in her own inimitable fashion...



We were treated to mash-ups between Eminem and The Boy I Love Is Up In The Gallery and Rihanna's Only Girl In The World with (what else?) If You Were The Only Girl In The World (And I Were The Only Boy), plus of course the "artificial hip-hop" Hokey Cokey and by-now-compulsory conga line!



We were exhausted - such larks. And all that, plus a fly-past!



Fantabulosa, dears.

Saturday, 19 June 2010

Brecht, piano virtuosity and R&B "Hokey Cokey"



"The witheringly rude answer to Flanders and Swann… literate and sophisticated" - Daily Telegraph

We had a fabulous evening's entertainment at the Hampstead Theatre thanks to the wonderful Kit & the Widow!

We have been to some fantastic shows over the years, and really thought we knew what we were going to expect from an evening with a favourite cabaret act of ours. However we could not have prepared ourselves for this evening... For Friday was their "Gala Night" - and in addition to their own amazing repartee, the boys provided us with a remarkable and fabulous selection of guests to entertain us!

Here is a little sample of Kit & The Widow doing what they do best:


To add to their own magnificent compositions, including their scathing piss-takes of Lord Lloyd-Webber and Stephen Sondheim, the LibDems, the middle classes, Pilates ("turning fatties into farties") and the classic (No! Not) Nando's (to the tune of Abba's Fernando), Kit, Widow and guests entertained us to a sublime Bertold Brecht ensemble number, and some beautiful duets.

And what of the guests? Sheer class! The beautiful Sam Barnett (of The History Boys), West End stalwart Claire Moore (the vocal coach on BBC1's Over the Rainbow apparently), Fascinating Aida's Issy van Randwyck [who happens to be married to Sir Peter Hall's son Edward, who is the new boss of the theatre], "Harry the Piano", and the superstar of the evening's entertainment, Ida Barr... Here's a taster of the talents on show:

Sam Barnett sang a gay anthem:


Harry the Piano is a maestro of merging different composers' styles with some unexpected tunes:


Chris Green - creator of the fabulous Tina C - has taken a step across musical boundaries with his character Ida Barr, a former music hall star who has taken to urban music with a vengeance. Here's her own brand of "Artificial Hip Hop":


Ida managed to get a healthy portion of the audience up on stage for her R&B version of The Hokey Cokey(!), which ended with a conga line right out of the theatre, round the lobby, round backstage and back to their seats... It has to be seen to be believed!

I haven't laughed so much in ages - what a tonic!

Kit & The Widow