Showing posts with label Paul Burston. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Paul Burston. Show all posts

Saturday, 21 February 2026

Of Oedipus in Kent, trans lives, the dyke of desire, a giraffe and a Tutu

It was a dark and stormy night on Wednesday - it was pissing-down - but despite the weather I, and a handful of stalwarts including Our Paul, Emma, Toby, Simon and chums, made our way to the cavernous surroundings of the legendary Heaven nightclub under Charing Cross... for the very welcome return of "London's peerless gay literary salon" Polari to its home city, after too long away!

With our "hostess-with-the-mostest" Mr Paul Burston presiding, we were in for another treat in store, with another selection of class acts:


Jake Arnott, Alice Denny, VG Lee, John McCullough

First up, Mr Jake Arnott, one of the UK's most successful crime writers - among his works are The Long Firm and He Kills Coppers, both adapted into much-lauded television serials. In his customary style, acting the roles of the characters, Mr Arnott read for us a dramatic segment of his new novel Blood Rival - heavily based around the multiple historic Greek stories of Oedipus - in which the anti-hero Eddie Pierce has "inherited the crown" (and wife) of the previous Kentish gangster kingpin Lee Royle, who was murdered in an apparent road-rage incident. During their efforts to uncover the secrets and lies left behind by his death, Eddie confesses that as a teen he had been raped by Royle - yet still loved him, nonetheless; and it was this desperate desire that drove his ambition to live up to, and eventually take over the "throne".

Mesmerising stuff!

Next was Alice Denny – a Brighton-based performance poet and judge for the Polari Prize 2026 - who read for us some of her pieces, tackling gender, love, loss, sexuality, marginalisation and injustice. Quite downbeat, but heartfelt.

Although it seemed that Paul B was hesitant to offer us a break, I think we needed it. A pee, a fag, a top-up and some mingling - and it was time for part two...

...opening with the faboo John McCullough, another stalwart - he won The Polari First Book Prize 2012 - reading selection of quirky, often quite amusing poems from his new collection Crowd Voltage. Like this one:

You're working-class my lad,
don't you forget it
, said Mum.
She was talking to a giraffe,
a lanky boy prone to ideas
above his station, soft ways
of slipping skyward.
I loved being a giraffe,
a vegetarian in fairyland,
the staircase of my neck
leading nowhere sharp.
I loved not being a lion
even though that meant
being hunted, carnivores slashing
at me till I galloped away.
I loved withdrawing to invisible
acacias - cathedrals of leaves
where my elastic tongue,
licked what it liked.
Because I loved discovering
other giraffes, entwining
bodies and probing necks
or simply standing together
as a crowd, a forest
of extravagant breathing.

We love him!

Our final reader was the lovely Polari stalwart VG Lee, everybody's favourite "Provincial Lesbian"! She read for us a segment from her forthcoming new novel Our Shadow Selves her short story The Last Gold Star Lesbian, focusing in on the experience of a lesbian of a certain age, whose life is drifting along in a shabby seaside town, and the frisson that she experiences when a long-distant butch "crush" of hers swans back into town - and she finally gets the attention she deserves!

There is no footage of the actual passage VG read for us, but here she is in full form, a few years ago:

Then, by way of an encore, we had a faboo live set from the effervescent Son of a Tutu!

Despite the somewhat smaller then usual audience (I blame the rain), all concerned got a well-deserved ovation:

We love Polari!

Sunday, 28 January 2024

Sex under the pier, whose sperm is it anyway?, Olympic voguing, an underwater breakdown and boogying in British sign-language

John-John, "Auntie Paul" and I gathered, with regulars Emma and Toby, Paulo and (not-so-regular any more) "Little Tony" at the historic and revered Heaven gay nightclub for another edifying evening at "London's peerless gay literary salon" Polari on Thursday, the first such event of 2024. Once again, we were in for a treat.

Our host, the faboo Paul Burston was sparkling from top-to-toe, as befits such an occasion, as he proudly opened the show...

One of my favourite authors/readers at Polari, Neil Bartlett opened proceedings with a salacious extract from his 2014 novel The Disappearance Boy [set in the early 1950s], in which [disabled by polio] magician's assistant "Reggie Rainbow" [whose job it is to help make the assistants "disappear", hence the title] discovers a secretive, hidden gay world of wonder, and sex, under the pier at Brighton.

Been there, done that - and absolutely loved the book! Remarkably, it has only recently been published in paperback.

Polari Prize winner in 2020, Kate Davies was up next, with a brand new delight for us - reading from her new novel Nuclear Family, which is out in February. A salutary tale of what happens when a loving daughter Lena decides to buy a DNA test for her dad, only to be completely devastated by the news that she and her twin sister were conceived from donor sperm. Lena goes off the deep end in her obsession with who her "real" father is, while her sibling Alison more-or-less takes it in her stride, trying as she is to conceive a child with her wife using the exact same method.

In the (very funny) extract Kate read for us, the couple's attempt to broach the subject of donation with their friends, a gay couple, while at a dinner date, doesn't actually go quite as planned...

With the laughter still ringing in our ears, it was time for a complete contrast...

...as it was the turn of our friend and Polari stalwart Alexis Gregory to explode onto the stage, the force of nature that he is - he has a new show on at the King's Head theatre in Islington, FutureQueer, described thus: "...part theatre, stand-up comedy, DIY queer lecture, pop-culture commentary, and meditation on disco music as a metaphor for queer survival." It certainly was a bit of a mind-fuck! Set in the year 2071, he conjured up for us a fantastical future where everything is "gay-gay-gay"; a world where voguing and lip-syncing are categories in the Olympics, the national anthem is by Dannii Minogue, there's a statue to George Michael on Hampstead Heath, and the goddess of Disco herself Donna Summer [NB 2071 happens to be exactly as far into the future from today as Miss Summer's I Feel Love is in the past] dominates society.

Who better to enter such a fantabulosa world with than "Sexy Lexi" ?!

We needed a fag and a top-up after all that...

After the break, our final reader was 2023's Polari Prize winner Julia Armfield, with a reading from her mysterious new work Our Wives Under The Sea.

As the review in The Guardian put it:

It is told in two alternating voices: Leah’s, in the form of a journal she kept on a deep-sea dive that stranded her and two others in undersea darkness; and that of her wife, Miri, who presumed her lost, after Leah’s return. The tale travels, with Leah and the submarine, down through the missing six months and the ocean’s vertical zones (sunlight, twilight, midnight, abyssal, hadal), while on land Miri tracks how their relationship is changing in the present.

From the extract she read, it would appear that those changes are even more mysterious than anyone could predict... Chilling stuff!

Our evening was not over yet, however - as a real feast of frolics was in store, with the arrival on stage of the ever-joyful David McAlmont with HiFi Sean!

They played a blinder of a set, and got everybody (including the lovely BSL interpreter Paul Michaels) in a dancing mood! Here's a jolly one:

STOP PRESS: And then, there's this!

Now, that's the way to finish an evening!

We love Polari! Roll on the next one...

Monday, 24 July 2023

The arse end of North Norfolk, Lesbian identity, survival, a long one, up Barbara's Brown Alley, and Kit's Bowie moment

Our hostess-with-the-mostest Paul Burston was in full sparkly getup as John-John, "Jurassic Paul" and I trolled into the nightclub Heaven on Friday for our first sojourn to "London's peerless gay literary salon" Polari in months...

It felt really good to be back and, as we joined our chums Emma and Toby at the front table, the air buzzed with anticipation.

After the customary welcome and intro, our first reader James McDermott took to the (dazzling) stage. Described by none other than "national treasure" Stephen Fry thus: "His eye, tone, language, wit, insights and power of expression are simply magnificent", he had a lot to live up to - and certainly did not disappoint! 

He read a selection of poems from his new anthology Wild Life, all about "the nature of queerness, the queerness of nature, and the queerness of ‘natural’ masculinity", against the backdrop of his native North Norfolk - and here are two of them:

Excellent stuff.

Diametrically opposite in tone, our next reader Lisa Luxx - poet, playwright, essayist and political activist of British and Syrian heritage, who also lectures on revolutionary poetics and queer theory - was much more intense and dramatic, reading a selection of her heartfelt poems (that were also helpfully projected on the big screen behind her) about love, longing, family and political conflict, such as this one:

we don’t make love we make live

it will be the days no one follows   I died
with   and was reborn   like they used to

the days when everyone will be drunk
            & asking each other for help

it will have been a long while since two
passers by bumped into each other

like flutes on a wind chime   knocking
accidental song out of a stranger’s body

two girls will be high as concrete
                                    summoning the moon

one will be knackered
from lugging sheet music out of rubble

the other
            will be holding up every shard
            of glass to the light
            looking for a scream
she may or may not have dropped here

with humidity blurring the mountains
            air con drip drips

                                    & I will roll
            up another one
                        stomach churning in the heat

these will be the days when bone collectors in
cufflinks order our nations to forget

            we will become sudden to remember
            one another   you & I
            a reunion resisting amnesia

then, I will be holding your small wet pulse
in my open jaw   looking at you like a dog
cradling in his mouth what he’s forbidden to chew

two startled creatures in cotton t-shirts
            practising being alive

With that one, and her equally memorable paean to sexuality Dyke, I was stunned. [Here's another one of hers - Lesbian - that is just as powerful but was not featured.]

Mr Burston returned to the stage to read a rather poignant piece - the epilogue to his memoir We Can Be Heroes, his account of survival against the odds of the combined challenges of the AIDS era, drugs and alcohol. He's proudly sober these days, and thrives on adrenaline rather than other substances, thank heavens!

Then it was time for Paul and his "partner-in-crime" Karen McLeod to announce the contenders for The Polari Prize:

The Polari First Book Prize Long List:

  • Love from the Pink Palace by Jill Nalder (Wildfire)
  • A Visible Man by Edward Enninful (Bloomsbury)
  • The Whale Tattoo by Jon Ransom (Muswell Press)
  • Whatever Happened to Queer Happiness by Kevin Brazil (Influx Press)
  • Rising of the Black Sheep by Livia Kojo Alour (Polari Press)
  • The New Life by Tom Crewe (Chatto & Windus)
  • None of the Above by Travis Alabanza (Canongate Books)
  • Orpheus Builds a Girl by Heather Parry (Gallic Books)
  • In Her Jaws by Rosamund Taylor (Banshee Press)
  • Is This Love? by CE Riley (Serpent’s Tail)
  • No Country for Girls by Emma Styles (Sphere)
  • Some Integrity by Padraig Regan (Carcanet Press)

The Polari Prize (book of the year, excluding debuts) Long List:

  • Fire Island by Jack Parlett (Granta Books)
  • A Working Class Family Ages Badly by Juno Roche (Dialogue Books)
  • Other People Manage by Ellen Hawley (Swift Press)
  • All Down Darkness Wide by Seán Hewitt (Jonathan Cape)
  • Young Mungo by Douglas Stuart (Picador)
  • Mother’s Boy by Patrick Gale (Tinder Press)
  • The School House by Sophie Ward (Corsair)
  • Our Wives Under the Sea by Julia Armfield (Picador)
  • Rookie by Caroline Bird (Carcanet Press)
  • Cells by Gavin McCrea (Scribe)
  • Screen Age by Fenton Bailey (Ebury Press)
  • Here Again Now by Okechukwu Nzelu (Dialogue Books)

 

Once the dust had settled after the break, Ms McLeod was nowhere to be found - and none other than Polari favourite Barbara Brownskirt barnstormed her way onto the stage, determined to read 125 poems from her "twenty-five unpublished works", starting (of course) with her tribute to her idol Judi! Judi! Judi! Dench!.

Other crowd-pleasers like Fabergé Eggs and Menopause were interspersed with some newer odes - including the bizarre Judi's U-bend and Sad Spare Room - from her latest anthology Brown Alley, with its accompanying launch video.

Utterly bonkers brilliance, as always!

And finally, it was time for the star turn - the artist also known as Ida Barr, Tina C, Fred Barnes and Christopher - Kit Green. A lovely person (and near neighbour to us here at Dolores Delargo Towers) we have followed Ida in particular for years - she was the pivotal moment at my sister's wedding reception!

Now a recording career in Kit's own name beckons, with a brand new album Always Here, from which they sang us a selection of fab songs.

The crowning glory was, however, a majestic cover of David Bowie's surprise 2013 single Where Are We Now? [little did we know at the time it was released that its lyrics were a portent of David's illness and death just three years later]. A tear came to my eye...

With rousing applause for Kit's excellent set, it was time for a (quite speedy, given the Friday night "curfew" - set by Heaven, so it could transform the place back into a nightclub) finale and curtain-call, and that was that for another night!

Another triumphal evening's entertainment.

We love Polari!

Monday, 19 December 2022

A Bridgend Santa, sniffin' in yer pants, and poor Mike's been brown-skirted!

Paul, John-John and I had a great evening at our first outing to "London's peerless gay literary salon" in months last week, a "pop-up" A Very Polari Xmas event at the formerly sleazy Vauxhall venue Eagle London. A few familar faces were in attendance, including Emma (sans Toby, who'd double-booked) and chums, and our hostess-with-the mostest Paul Burston's hubby Paulo; but the majority of attendees in the packed house (despite the frosty weather) were people I didn't recognise.

One person who did not show up however, due to ill-health, was our advertised opening reader the lovely Susie Boyt, so Paul B, as is his wont, manfully ("person-fully"?) stepped in. He read for us a suitably Xmas-themed snippet from his forthcoming memoir We Can Be Heroes - in front of a remarkably moody pic of himself with an unconvincing Santa in Wales:

I have, of course, placed my pre-order for the book and can't wait to read it when it comes out in May!

As we tucked into the complimentary Ferrero Rocher and mince pies at the bar, "Santa Paul" introduced our next reader - who had removed his trousers for the occasion!

Polari First Book Prize 2022 winner Adam Zmith (for it was he), proudly wearing a t-shirt appropriately emblazoned with a diamante-encrusted bottle of the stuff, gave us an entertaining and inciteful extract from his extensively-researched history of the amyl nitrite family and its role in queer life, Deep Sniff: A History of Poppers and Queer Futures - all while sniffing from "the little brown bottle"!

From a review by the revered gay author Jonathan Kemp for QueerGuru:

There’s no doubt that Deep Sniff is a passion project for Zmith. That it’s also an impressive intellectual endeavour that soberly celebrates poppers’ place in queer history is no mean feat. To sniff amyl nitrite is to join the Village People, hang out at the Mineshaft, or be an extra in Cruising. Deep Sniff acknowledges all this without shying away from poppers' more problematic aspects. All told, it’s quite intoxicating.

Praise, indeed. And yes, it is a fascinating story - how poppers coincided with (and possibly drove) the burgeoning gay scene of the late 1970s and early 1980s, with its "hanky code", butch clones, thumping H-NRG music et al, and in turn came to be vilified in the press (and by some radical medical theorists) as a contributory factor when AIDS reared its ugly head.

Shame, really, that Mr Zmith didn't have any copies of his book for sale, otherwise I might have been tempted to buy it. It's on my wishlist.

After a short fag-break and a top-up of booze, it was time for our "headline act" - and a dearly-loved favourite, the "Poet Laureate of Penge" herself...

...Barbara Brownskirt!

After a series of calamities involving the lectern and the mike-stand, she asked if there was anyone called Mike in the house - and indeed there was, so he became her assistant for the opening crowd-pleaser, her tribute to her icon and lust-object, Judi Dench:

Judi Judi Judi Judi Judi Judi Judi Dench!
10 hours I stood there
You walked past me (on the red carpet)
I was on the pavement not red but grey
I watched you go by with yet another sigh

Judi Judi Judi Judi Judi Judi Judi Dench!
Your smile and crinkly twinkly eyes
Your little hairstyle, high on your head
Sexy Grandma
To me you are wife material

Denchy Denchy Denchy Denchy Denchy Jud-ie
How you make me want to clenchy
And I would like to travel my hand
Over your wobbly belly
To cup the young Denchy, Thirsty Drenchy
A cup full of Dench quenched. Time all spent.

Judi Judi Judi Judi Judi Judi Judi Judi Dench!

And that was just the first of what she threatened would be 108 poems from her extensive anthology - including this minimal masterpiece:

She's just brilliant.

As the laughter subsided, it was all over far too soon, with the customary curtain call:

Although Mr B was DJ-ing for the rest of the evening by way of a jolly celebration to round off the Polari year, we decided not to risk getting caught up in any wintry-weather-related travel madness (Vauxhall isn't close to any of our abodes) and to go our different ways home - still buzzing.

We love Polari!

Roll on the next big outing - in Heaven in February 2023.

Sunday, 6 March 2022

A messy love life, a no-so-innocent bride-to-be, Greeks bearing gifts and "the gay utopia of Peckham"

It's been a busy weekend (as predicted), beginning on Friday - as John-John and I trolled off to Vauxhall for the first outing in 2022 of "London's premiere literary salon" Polari at the RVT. It didn't disappoint!

Our host-with-the-most Paul Burston was like an expectant father as he took to the stage, but without further ado he introduced our first guest Laura Kay, to read us an extract from her latest work Tell Me Everything. The blurb for the book described the story thus:

Would you entrust your life choices to someone hell-bent on avoiding theirs?

Natasha has everything under control, at least that's what her clients think. As a therapist, she has all the answers but when it comes to her personal life, she seriously needs to start taking her own advice.

Still living with her ex-girlfriend, Natasha's messy love life is made up of dates and one-night stands. After all, why would you commit to one person, when there is an endless stream of people waiting for you to swipe right? Besides, people always leave.

The piece she read for us was a funny account of one of those situations where you find yourself on a stiflingly dull evening out with an individual whose conversation is boring, personality is annoying, yet is a great fuck, so you persist [been there] - and the payoff for the book's protagonist Natasha certainly sounded like it was worth it...

Very enjoyable, indeed.


click any photo to embiggen

As one of the advertised readers the faboo Paul Bailey was unwell and unable to attend, Mr Burston "played the part of 'older white man'", reading an extract from his forthcoming memoir We Can Be Heroes; a vignette about how one's passion can cloud the reality about a person's true intentions, and how one should never trust the declarations of undying love from a "Greek bearing gifts". Here's a little promo Paul has made by way of a "teaser" for the much-awaited autobiography...

Completing the triumvirate of speakers, it was the turn of the ever-charming Diriye Osman, winner of the 2014 Polari First Book Prize, who, excitedly, gave us a preview of his soon-to-be-published new anthology of short stories The Butterfly Jungle - a salacious, gossipy snippet in which our hero/narrator/breaker of the "third wall" Migil recounts the tale of an acquaintance, a South London Somali cab driver, who sends home to his family for a "suitable young bride".

However, despite first appearances, the "innocent girl" who arrives is actually anything but; surreptitiously (and loudly) satisfying her own needs with local builders - much to the horror of their religious neighbour, who blows the whistle on the goings-on - she eventually leaves for pastures new to bag herself a rich husband, and is eventually spotted much later by the cuckolded cabbie in Mayfair, clad in designer clothing and living in evident luxury...

It was brilliantly written (and read), as we have come to expect of the flamboyant Mr Osman!

The second half, after a break for a fag, a top-up, and a bit of a gossip with regular Emma (without hubby Toby, who has unfortunately broken his collarbone), took the by-now familiar format of an informal discussion with Mr Burston and the authors.

Ms Kay talked about how lesbian literature has taken a turn in recent times, away from historical fiction to more tales of relationships between women in modern settings, and how her own work has been compared to contemporary women's fiction writers - indeed, journalist and fellow writer Matt Cain described her stories as "It’s like meeting Marian Keyes and Dawn O’Porter in a cosy gay pub in Sheffield!"

The conversation between Mr Osman and Paul touched on myriad subjects that covered race and perceptions of gay life in minority communities, and - remarkably - what a "queer/gay centre of the universe" Peckham (of all places) has become!

Sadly, the evening's entertainment flew by, and was over too soon.

Can't wait for the next one...


There is, however, a further piece of great news about Polari (which Mr B hinted at throughout the evening) that has just been revealed. In addition to the long-serving Polari First Book Prize (awarded annually to a debut book that explores the LGBTQ+ experience) and The Polari Prize (for overall book of the year, excluding debuts):

In November 2022, to mark the salon’s 15th birthday and the 11th anniversary of the Polari Prize, it will move to its new home at the British Library. The British Library will also collaborate with Polari on upcoming events.

This year, the Polari Salon introduces a new award for children’s and YA literature, shining a spotlight on growing range of wonderful books for children and young adults with LGBTQ+ themes or representation.

The prize will cover anything published in the 24 months up to February 1, 2022 and is open to any children’s or Young Adult book. It will be sponsored by the inclusive children’s books company, Little Box of Books, with a £1000 prize awarded to the winner.

Now, there's a mark of recognition indeed for a literary salon that began upstairs on a pub in Soho, and has popped up in venues big and small up and down the country - including Heaven and the South Bank - to join in partnership with such a national institution as the British Library...

We love Polari!

Sunday, 5 December 2021

A mattress of one's own, literary Lesbians, popperbating - we're gonna do it anyway!

Braving the cold and drear that this time of year always brings, John-John and I trolled into town on Wednesday for the last shout of "London's premier gay literary salon", Polari, in 2021 - the culmination of its fourteenth year, indeed. Our hostess-with-the-mostest Paul Burston took to the stage at Heaven nightclub to the strains of I'm Still Here by Eartha Kitt. A tribute to Stephen Sondheim, but also by way of an introduction to his personal recollections - on this World AIDS Day - of the struggles he and fellow campaigners of the early '80s encountered, in those terrifying early days, to get recognition and viable medical assistance for gay men in the "firing line" of that pandemic; and with the huge emotional strain of all the losses we all suffered.

Read the full piece at Paul's blog.

Taking up the baton the marvellous Neil Bartlett, a genius of the literary world and a Polari stalwart, read an extract from his recently published collection of tales (all stories based upon his imagined histories of various places he has lived) Address Book - a hugely emotional and touching recollection of a grimly homophobic era, revolving around the sheer joy and freedom a "queer dancing-queen” in 1987 feels when he finally gets “a room of one’s fucking own” and, braving all the public hatred, abuse, stigma and discrimination he endures on a daily basis, goes to buy his own, his very first, mattress. It sounds mundane, but by gawd, the tears were rolling down my face. I love Neil Bartlett's writing!

Here he is, talking about the book and how he came to write it.

Purchase your copy from Inkandescent Books.

It is always a joy to hear our next reader Diana Souhami - even if this time round, she read from prompt cards throughout - with her encyclopaedic knowledge of the lives and loves of historial Lesbians. She read for us a synopsis of her magnum opus No Modernism Without Lesbians, as here:

Weirdly, other than our readers, Paul B and the ever-lovely Justin David, there were no regulars with which to shmooze during the break, so with a top-up of booze and a fag - time for part 2...

A former journalist, writer Adam Zmith recently produced his first book Deep Sniff, an in-depth history of Amyl Nitrite - better known as poppers - and its interwoven connection with the LGBT community. It's a convoluted tale, indeed! None other than the brilliant fellow author Jonathan Kemp reviewed it for Queer Guru, so I'll let him take up the tale:

From their humble beginnings in mid-nineteenth century, introduced as a source of relief for angina sufferers, to their ubiquity within gay life, from dancefloor to bedroom, Zmith recounts it all with lusty relish. He introduces us to Antoine Jérome Balard of Montpellier, France, the man who started it all when, in 1844, he passed nitrogen fumes through amyl alcohol and discovered that inhaling the resulting pungent vapour caused his face to redden and dilated his blood vessels, lowering his blood pressure. At the time, he couldn’t think what earthly use it would be, but twenty-two years later, a young Scotsman, Thomas Lauder Brunton, used the vapour to relieve his angina patients’ pain. Pretty soon, it was being sold in small glass vials that you ‘popped’ to release the fumes.

Recounting poppers’ history is interesting enough in itself but understanding their place in history is where Zmith excels. Using episodes in the history of poppers, he explores, imagines and extrapolates on, among other things, gender norms, popperbators, science fiction, and the AIDS crisis. He adorns his book with gems of stories – like that of Roland Chemist on Praed Street near Paddington Station, London, who sold 185,700 ampoules of amyl nitrite in one year, compared to Boots Chemists in Piccadilly who sold around 288 ampoules. We learn about W. Jay Freezer the man who marketed poppers to gay men specifically – establishing the magazine Drummer to serve as a platform for advertising the product to its hedonistic readers. He dreamed of poppers being sold alongside shampoo and nail polish remover in supermarkets. Then, of course, AIDS hit, and anything associated with pleasure-seeking were shunned. For a while, amyl nitrite was considered the cause of what became known as HIV.

There’s a rich diversity of ideas, facts and musings here. Alongside an account of popperbating and a section on queer utopias as imagined by sci-fi writers, there’s a chapter on the police raids in 1986/87 on London’s iconic queer heritage public house, The Royal Vauxhall Tavern, to seize the poppers being sold there. The seven uniformed officers wore unnecessary surgical gloves. In protest at their provocative prophylactics, Lily Savage, who was on stage at the time, gave the Old Bill a Scouse mouthful and told the crowd to riot, earning herself a night in the cell.

Fascinating stuff - I need a sniff now!

Then, in a flurry of chiffon and attitude - it was time for our "headline act"...

Son of a Tutu, for it is he/she/they, is an award-winning drag queen and LGBTQ+ activist (who also landed a role in the film version of Everyone's Talking About Jamie). She chose her songs carefully for the occasion - recalling Neil Bartlett's piece about gay men being verbally abused by straight strangers, she said she needed to sing Sweet Caroline "to reclaim it from the football thugs".

And, reminding the audience of the fact that Labi Siffre's anthem of resistance was not, in fact, to do with racial discrimination (despite it being adopted by anti-apartheid campaigners), but about his own life experiences as a gay man, this:

​Not a dry eye in the house.

And, with the customary curtain call, that was it for the year...

We look forward to the treats in store in 2022 - we love Polari!

Friday, 30 July 2021

Dildos, cottaging, illicit gay goings-on in Tehran, gay flood-warnings... and Liza with a "Z"?!

It's not every literary event that provides such a mixture of the earnest, the salacious, the intelligent, the funny and a bit of unexpected pizzazz thrown in for good measure. Then again, there is no other bookish gathering quite like "London's peerless gay literary salon" Polari!

And so it was that I braved the elements and, on my own for a change, went along to the latest outing - once again in the cavernous surroundings of Heaven nightclub on Wednesday night. And what a night it was, too...

Our MC the marvellous Paul Burston opened proceedings with a flourish - and without further ado, our opening salvo came courtesy of the lovely Kate Davies, 2020 Polari Prize winner and noted children's author, who has turned her hand [quite literally in the case of one of the pieces she read for us about her first fisting experience] to semi-autobiographical fiction, with a book that has been described as the ‘lesbian Bridget Jones’ In At The Deep End. From it, [the other extract she read for us] a shopping trip with a difference...

More filth and depravity was to follow, thank goodness.

Our next reader was one of the nominees for this year's Polari First Book Prize [awarded annually for a first book which explores the LGBTQ+ experience] Paul Mendez. You get the idea that there must be something special about it when a debut work by any author is described by none other than Booker Prize-winner Bernardine Evaristo thus:

"When did you last read a novel about a young, black, gay, Jehovah Witness man from Wolverhampton who flees his community to make his way in London as a prostitute? This might be a debut, but Mendez is an exciting, accomplished and daring storyteller with a great ear for dialogue. Graphic Erotica Alert! Don't read this book if you like your fiction cosy and middle-of-the-road."

Indeed, from the extract he read from the work in question Rainbow Milk, where our protagonist Jesse begins his journey to a different life with a particularly raunchy encounter with a stranger in a public toilet lock-up, where both parties discover the advantages of his having no gag reflex, I think Ms Evaristo was entirely correct...

Having fanned myself sufficiently to cool down after that (all-too-familiar) reminiscence, it was time for something completely different.

Golnoosh Nour was born and brought up in Iran, and now teaches creative writing at the University of East London, Birkbeck College and the University of Bedfordshire. Her collection of short stories about the conflicted lives of LGBT+ individuals living under the religious dictatorship of her homeland, The Ministry of Guidance is nominated for the Polari Book Prize [for overall Book of the Year, excluding debuts], and she read pieces from several of them for our delectation. Here's an edited extract from An Evening of Martyrdom, revolving around a secretive gay party, gathering on the same night as the "Mourning of Muharram" [an important Shia commemoration], which I found particularly impressive:

...As a result of smoking, drinking and nibbling, Hasti's lip gloss had come off and Mina found her unpainted lips with their natural, meaty colour even more appealing. She was already sniffing the scent of her neck when Hasti grabbed her right hand and murmured, "Let's go". Mina did not know where, but followed her nonetheless.

Hasti and Mina were walking in a narrow corridor with orange wallpaper, hand in hand. Hasti a few steps ahead, leading Mina. Mina's nostrils were on Hasti's nape, sniffing its strange scent, which Mina concluded smelt like her dead mother: a mixture of cigarette smoke and spicy cologne, resulting in a smell of burnt trees, which she relished. She sensed her next painting would be a forest on fire. She knew Hasti was taking her to Omid's bedroom, at the end of the long corridor. Suddenly she felt in love with the existence of this corridor, which connected Omid's living room to his bedroom, separating her and Hasti from the rest of the party. It was indeed the best thing that could exist in a house, and probably the world...

...Hasti pushed her onto the bed. Mina pushed her back. "I need to tell you something," murmured Mina... "This is my first time."...

Mina was pleased that Hasti was 'turned on' by her confession and not taken aback. Hasti's cold fingers started running all over her body. Mina closed her eyes and let herself tremble on Omid's single bed...

...for some reason she could not talk. She was breathing heavily and the only thing she cared about was her heavenly wetness and Hasti's wet mouth. Hasti's fingers were inside her and Mina was writhing on the dark bed trying her best not to scream.

The door opened, and she felt blinded by the orange corridor and the figure of someone she didn't recognise in her inebriation, orgasm and the dark.

"The neighbours have called the police," the figure said, her voice quiet and quivering.

After three erotic tales in a row, it was time for a well-deserved cigarette. After the break, it was time for the annual award ceremony - and to announce the shortlists for the two coveted Polari Prizes, the aforementioned Kate Davies and the cute-as-a-button "slam poet" Keith Jarrett took to the stage.

The titles shortlisted for the £2000 Polari Prize are:

  • The Ministry of Guidance and other stories (Golnoosh Nour, Muswell Press)
  • Dragman (Steven Appleby, Jonathan Cape)
  • The Air Year (Caroline Bird, Carcanet)
  • What Girls Do in the Dark (Rosie Garland, Nine Arches Press)
  • The Intoxicating Mr Lavelle (Neil Blackmore, Windmill)
  • No Modernism Without Lesbians (Diana Souhami, Head of Zeus)

The works shortlisted for the £1000 Polari First Book Prize are:

  • Rainbow Milk (Paul Mendez, Dialogue Books)
  • Forced Out (Kevin Maxwell, Granta)
  • A Dutiful Boy (Mohsin Zaidi, Vintage)
  • Swimming in the Dark (Tomasz Jędrowski, Bloomsbury)
  • Shuggie Bain (Douglas Stuart, Picador)
  • Charred (Andreena Leeanne, Team Angelica).

Speaking of Mr Jarrett, guess who was next to take the stage?

With a particularly pithy set of backdrop photos, he read a few of his often hard-hitting, always excellent poems - including this one [just after he'd explained that it was indeed true: a UKIP councillor did claim that the floods that hit the UK in 2014 were as a result of equal marriage legislation!]:

As the lovely Keith departed the stage, so the whole evening took a completely different direction, and Paul B proudly introduced not one, but two of the greatest showbiz divas of all time to the stage!

In reality, of course, it was the creation of two stars of musical theatre Helen Sheals and Emma Dears - whose show Judy and Liza relaunched at the first post-lockdown Brighton Fringe this summer. Heavens! They were fab.

A smattering of the classics were all ticked off: Together, Wherever We Go, the famous Happy Days Are Here Again/Get Happy medley, the Man That Got Away, Liza with a Z, Cabaret - and a very clever medley of Somewhere Over the Rainbow and Maybe This Time that was truly stupendous! I loved it.

As the stardust settled to the floor, there was just time for the customary curtain-call - and that was it for another sublime evening...

We love Polari!

Thursday, 20 May 2021

Post-lockdown euphoria, an edible poet, Cunto, The Boy, a Diva retires, and oral history is a Riot!

It was with the greatest of excitement that I, John-John and (eventually) our friend Paul met up for the first time since last October - in a pub (Halfway to Heaven, of course). For not only were we getting our first taste of "freedom" as lockdown restrictions are lifted, but the occasion was for the triumphal return of "London's peerless literary salon" Polari to the legendary Heaven nightclub! And what an evening's entertainment was in store...

Our hostess-with-the-mostest Paul Burston looked ecstatic to welcome us back, opening proceedings with an apposite reminder that, although the sense of relief was palpable at the prospect of the coronavirus pandemic coming under control in the UK, for many people in the room this was actually the second pandemic we have lived through and survived to tell the tale - about which there would be more in parts of the evening's programme.

Opening the evening, however - emerging through the "rock concert-style" dazzling light-show and dry ice that enveloped the stage [the effect of which meant that 160 out of the 183 photos I took went straight to the delete bin as the glare made it impossible to see anything in them] - was a gleam of exuberant joy, in the form of the delightful PJ Samuels. I love the way she described herself in one of her blog posts way back in 2014:

I am a black woman. Rastafarian. Christian. Immigrant. Exile. Lesbian... I am by no means confused. This relationship in my skin sits like ice lolly on a hot day, a magnum original on the stick. So many reasons why it shouldn’t work together but heaven when you taste it. So for every group that I don’t fit in because of the other aspect of me that I embrace, it’s your loss. I’m delicious. All kinds of delicious. A smorgasbord of incongruous flavours that are heaven on a platter. Damn I want to eat me…

Mesmerised by her recitative delivery of a selection of her poems and songs: some tender, some angry, some empowering, our audience wanted to "eat" her up, too!

Speaking of "poetry powerhouses", next was the turn of Joelle Taylor, as excited to have just received her first print copy of her new anthology Cunto and Othered Poems [this Polari being its "unofficial" launch] as she was to be performing extracts from it on stage again!

According to the eminent Patience Agbabi she is

"...a shape-shifter, myth-maker, linguistic risk-taker; poetical activist, surrealist with a raised fist. She knows how to handle a pen. Razor sharp, tattooed or AWOL, her women are the best dressed men. Her material – fractured glass and human skin; the effect – a maze, a mosaic, a hall of mirrors. She redefines the dispossessed, the caged in and gives them a way out."

Focusing largely on her own experiences as a masculine presenting woman, a "Butch" or "Boi" on the in London lesbian scene in the 1990s, the poems she read for us were a combination of pent-up frustration, intriguing and sometimes menacing characters, politics, anger, love, lust and loss - like this one:

...and here's one she made earlier...

Just when we thought "how does one possibly top that?!" - our lovely "Sexy Lexi", the sublimely talented Alexis Gregory trolled up to the mike...

Riot Act is surely his magnum opus - he wrote this one-man-drama based upon three real-life interviews: with Michael-Anthony Nozzi, one of the only remaining Stonewall survivors; Lavinia Co-op, a 1970s London radical-drag artist; and someone a little closer to home.

The piece he performed from it for us was the tale of an activist in the era of fear and loss and anger that encompassed the gay world when AIDS reared its ugly head in the 1980s, of his conflicting experiences of camaraderie and dull political correctness, of placards and protests and forming a chained blockade across Waterloo Bridge, of attending funeral after funeral after funeral of people who were too young to die, of experiencing rejection and denial on the gay scene, burn-out and "survivor guilt", partying too hard to try and blot out the grief, and the feeling of hopelessness that a whole generation of collective memory has been lost, so the next wave of gays has no connection with that era and would rather forget it ever happened - all too, too real. And familiar. I cried.

The subject of the monologue was, of course... Paul Burston himself.

Here's the trailer for the show:

I really needed a cigarette after that!

After the break and some more drinkies, served to our table of course, it was time for a familiar friend and Polari stalwart to appear. However - shock! horror! - to our dismay, Paul announced that would be the very last time the lovely VG Lee [for it is she] would ever perform live again...

From her entrance with a sort-of "1960s catwalk model" routine, to the end of her performance with a series of her hilarious "Dear Auntie Val" agony aunt letters, she had us enthralled!

Accompanied as she was [in fact, all our speakers including Paul B had their own similar large-screen back-drop] by a selection of photos from various points of her younger - and dead glam - life, she revealed that ("before I was a lesbian") she had actually been married (to "Hemel Hempstead's answer to Barry Gibb") for quite a few years - and even wrote a semi-fictional, and hilarious, short story about it in her recent anthology Oh You Pretty Thing, which she read for us. Here she is with a [unfortunately abridged - the longer extract she read for us continued with a more pithy take on the relationship and its inevitable fate...] version from a Zoom-based event she did last year:

If this really was the "farewell performance" of such a legend, there's going to be one helluva gap in the Polari repertoire... We'll certainly miss her!

Finally, from one legendary long-serving performer to another.

Ian Elmslie was (the cuter) half of the cabaret duo Katrina and the Boy [who I saw on stage - after attending Gay Pride in Kennington Park - at the long-demised gay pub the Market Tavern in Nine Elms/Vauxhall way back in 1991. There's some fab footage of one of their performances in this video on YouTube - however, you'll need to skip to the 2:20:00 mark to see a very youthful Mr Elmslie in action!]


click any photo to embiggen

Latterly, Mr Elmslie published his entertainment memoirs - A Marvellous Party, from which he read an extract at Polari back in December 2017 - and still "keeps his hand in" as a cabaret singer-songwriter; indeed, he had not one, but two CDs on sale last night. He also, it emerged, is a bit of a Bowie fan [hence the photo at the head of this post with the neon sign "Boys Keep Swinging"] - and the major part of his performance was indeed dedicated to the great man, with audience participation, to boot! I'm not sure any previous audience in the history of Heaven nightclub has been encouraged to shout "Hot Tramp!" en masse in quite the same way before...

He also treated us to one of his own songs The Other Man from the new Old Boyfriends CD, which I think is brilliant:

After resounding applause came the customary curtain call...

 

...and without further ado, it was time to clear the decks and bugger off for last orders at the pub.

It was such a brilliant evening that, despite having suffered the "getting up for work" bit afterwards, I'm still coming down to earth.

Unfortunately we might miss the next outing at the RVT on 4th June (with headliner the lovely Adele Anderson), as it's not just selling out fast, but apparently clashes with other arrangements... but we do indeed love Polari!