Carry On Up The Bunbury!

The social whirl continues...

Last night, Madam Arcati and I shimmied our way to the West End (again) - this time to the Noël Coward Theatre for the new, much-lauded Max Webster/National Theatre production of the Oscar Wilde masterpiece The Importance of Being Earnest!

This Wilde satire on society mores, manners and relationships, replete with many of the great man's finest, funniest and most-quoted lines has been subject to myriad interpretations in the 130 years since its debut, not least the memorable 1952 screen version with Dame Edith Evans as the play's pivotal character, the redoubtable Lady Bracknell. Indeed, the cream of British theatricals have queued up to play that particular imposing aristocratic dowager, including Dame Judi Dench, Dame Maggie Smith, Athene Seyler, Irene Handl, Dame Hilda Bracket (of Hinge & Bracket fame) and even David "Poirot" Suchet.

Knowing that for our production, none other than "national brainbox treasure" Sir Stephen Fry was donning the taffeta and wig to take on the role made it even more of a delicious prospect!

He was utterly perfect, of course - bringing the right balance between embodying Lady Bracknell's strict and conventional upper-class Victorian respectability with the ease in which her opinions could be swayed at the merest sniff of financial and reputational gain out of any situation, all the while spouting memorably disdainful barbs at anyone in her way. Think "The Dowager Countess of Grantham", and you're not far off.

The main protagonists in this entangled tale, however, are the effete and ever-so-trivial boy-about-town Algernon Moncrieff (a rather good Olly Alexander, of Years and Years and Eurovision pop fame) and his excitable friend who goes by the name of Ernest Worthing (Nathan Stewart-Jarrett, also excellent). Both men have many secrets, and both have created imaginary relatives - Algernon's is a perpetually-ailing friend called "Bunbury" - whom they use as an excuse to get away from their responsibilities and travel elsewhere on a whim (a habit that Algernon refers to as "Bunburying"). This is the stuff that all good farces are made of - and needless to say, as lie upon lie unravels it all gets hilariously frenetic...

It turns out that "Ernest" is actually John/Jack Worthing, a country squire with a respectable reputation and a wealthy heiress ward in his care to look out for. It's only in town, enjoying the high life, that he adopts the name "Ernest" - principally because his intended, Algernon's cousin (and Lady Bracknell's daughter) Gwendolen Fairfax (played with brilliantly mannered yet acidly barbed aplomb by Kitty Hawthorne) won't, it appears, consider marrying anyone of any other name.

Lady Bracknell, of course, has other ideas, and when she discovers that Ernest/John/Jack knows nothing of his parentage, having been found as a baby in a handbag in Victoria Station by a wealthy family - cue her much-quoted retort: "A HAND...BAG?!" - she forbids the engagement.

Meanwhile, in the country, that aforementioned ward Cecily Cardew (well-played as an impetuous and fiery spoiled teen by Jessica Whitehurst), has been led to believe that Jack's "troublesome brother Ernest" is the reason he has to leave for the city so often, and she has created a whole fictitious romance with this wayward spirit. Then Algernon gets it into his head that he will utilise another "visit to Bunbury" in order to pretend to be "brother Ernest", visit the Worthing abode in the country and woo Cecily.

Of course, Jack unexpectedly returns - in funereal mourning garb, having decided to "kill off" that very brother "from a chill; in Paris"; much to everyone's surprise, since he is apparently ensconced in the house. To top it all, Gwendolen arrives, and the girls play out a game of extremely polite bitchery over tea and cakes (one of the very best scenes in the play), albeit with a slightly sapphic twist.

What?! Homosexualist shenanigans? In an Oscar Wilde play? Heaven forfend! From the review by Andrzej Lukowski in TimeOut:

All four ‘lovers’ go about their relationships with the breezy silliness of a group of primary schoolers playing mummies and daddies. [Producer-director Max] Webster’s interpretation amps up Wilde’s wit by unburdening it of any need for us to believe in the romance. Indeed, the contrived plotting - Bunburying, the women only being into guys called Ernest, the whole handbag thing - makes more sense if viewed as role play by a group of people who are strangers to their own sexualities.

You don’t need to think too deeply about any of this, but my point is that Webster explicitly asks us to view Earnest as a queer text and refuses to take the romance, well, earnestly. Okay, it was always an allegory for closeted Victorian society and the social allure of heteronormativity. But this version is fun because it throws off any pretence otherwise.

Indeed it does that! From the opening - and somewhat bewildering - "introduction" to Algernon, dressed in a pink tulle frou-frou full-length evening gown, playing the piano and cavorting with amorphous and androgynous party-goers [presumably a "dream sequence"], through the Wildean repartee often played with a snigger and a wink and a nod to the audience ["Carry On up the Bunbury", perhaps?], to the utterly preposterous curtain-call [after the happy denouement of this tangled web resolves itself, with a complicated series of events involving aforementioned handbag, Cecily's chaperone/tutor Miss Prism (Shobna Gulati from Dinnerladies) and a clamber through a library of military records - and yes, they do "live happily ever after" (after a fashion)] that saw the entire cast reduced to wearing pantomime-esque sparkly flower costumes [what the fuck that was all about, I have no idea!], this was hardly the most - ahem - subtle interpretation of a dear old Oscar comedy we have ever seen.

However, it was a bloody great evening's entertainment - and we thoroughly enjoyed it!

[click any photo to embiggen]

The Importance of Being Earnest is running at the Noël Coward Theatre until 10th January 2026.

Don't miss it!

The vengeance of Hell boils in my heart

The eternal struggle between sunlight and darkness, between day and night - how utterly appropriate for this time of year...

And so it was that, with great anticipation, Hils, History Boy, Madam Arcati and I swished into the opulent grandeur of The Royal Opera House, Covent Garden for its latest revival of Sir David McVicar's classic [first staged in 2003] production of The Magic Flute [or, more properly, as it's sung in its native German, Die Zauberflote] (in its last weekend before it closes on Monday).

Mozart's last opera before his untimely death aged just 35, he deliberately chose to do it in Singspiel style - basically a "fairy tale" with spoken, as well as sung segments - with a bit of comedy, a bit of panto villainy, a smattering of satire, and a nod to his interest in secret societies thrown in.

As a sum of its parts, however, it's a work of genius...

"[It makes a] special claim on one's affections, because its libretto is high camp. It's a peerlessly silly masterpiece: sublimely lucid music arising out of a parodistic fairy tale that celebrates in all seriousness the exalted brotherhood of the Freemasons." - Pauline Kael

Speaking of camp, there are a couple of rather wonderful highlights amongst the beautifully-sung "heroic prince gets quest (with the "magic flute" of the title) to rescue beloved princess, prince loses princess, prince has to pass several trials, prince gets princess back, sunshine triumphs, everyone lives happily ever after except the villainess" plot - not least the comic sidekick Papageno's joy at the end of all the trials and tribulations to finally get his ideal (and similarly-named) girl [here in rehearsal (NB Huw played the role last night, but Stephanie Edwards played "Papagena")]:

Huw Montague Rendall and Elisabeth Boudreault - Pa-Pa-Pa-Pa-Pa-Pa-Papagena!

Of course, there is one spine-chilling moment that everyone's waiting for in this particular opera - and that's when the nastiest-of-nasty queens really shows what she's all about...

[Annie Fassea played the role last night - and was wonderful - but there's sadly no footage of her in the role, so this is the classic rendition - lyrics explained here]:

Diana Damrau - Der Hölle Rache (Queen of the Night aria) [The Magic Flute - Mozart]

Special mention must go the "star-crossed lovers" around whom the story revolves, Mingjie Lei as "Prince Tamino" and [the particularly good] Chelsea Zurflüh as "Princess Pamina", and to the much-maligned high priest "Sarastro", sung with booming magnificence by Timo Riihonen, as well as the camp-as-old tits "Three Ladies" Hannah Edmunds, Ellen Pearson and Emma Carrington.

Operas of this magnitude - this one's three hours' duration (with a 20-minute break) - are not for the faint-hearted or the weak-bladdered, however this production was so engaging and so brilliantly done, time passed really quickly. It really was a superb evening!

So watch me fly, we all know I can do it!

It's been a hectic last weekend of freedom, dear reader! Yesterday, John-John, Hils, Crog and I traversed the wilds of the East End of London (to the Excel London exhibition complex) for the Tutankhamun Immersive Experience [more on that later, no doubt], followed by a jaunt across the Thames on the "IFS Cloud" Cable Car to the O2 Millennium Dome for a bit of shopping and lunch in the Wetherspoons located therein, then hiked from Canary Wharf all the way through Limehouse to Wapping along the Thames Path. Our original destination was none other than Serena McKellen's pub The Grapes, but there were no tables free so we ended up at the historic Prospect of Whitby - London's oldest riverside inn - to finish off the day with a few much-needed drinks.

Today, the weather having been beautiful all day, was spent in the garden - my last full day out there until after our trip to Spain next week - doing a last few important potting-on jobs (including hoiking a mature hydrangea into an enormous new pot), while The Madam tackled the much-needed chore of sorting out the neglected, overgrown and tatty patch of clay that laughingly passes for the front garden, which now has several clumps of Geranium × oxonianum "Wargrave Pink" (that was way too rampant to live any longer in a planter) given free rein to do battle with the weeds. It will most likely win the battle.

But it was, of course, the saintly not-yet-a-Dame-for-some-reason Elaine Paige who kicked the weekend off - or at least it was the star-studded concert in her honour, BBC Radio 2 Celebrates Elaine Paige we went to see at the London Palladium on Friday!

Hosted by DJ and presenter Zoe Ball, it promised to be a golden celebration of the great lady's 60 years in showbiz - and her status as a "national treasure" was confirmed by the fact this illustrious and huge theatre was completely sold-out. It certainly was a hell of a tribute!

Among the array of performers were the prime of West End and Broadway talent, including Sharon D. Clarke, Mazz Murray [who was superb!], the very gorgeous Julian Ovenden, Clive Rowe, Charlie Stemp, Summer Strallen, Preeya Kalidas, Samantha Barks and Lucy St. Louis, as well as members of one of Elaine's chosen charities Mountview drama school choir, and each in turn did a great job of presenting highlights from the shows that made Elaine's career - from her early appearances in Hair, Jesus Christ Superstar, Grease and Billy, as well as her triumphs Evita, Cats, Chess, Anything Goes, Piaf, Sunset Boulevard, The King & I, Sweeney Todd, The Drowsy Chaperone and Follies. As ever, the stalwart BBC Concert Orchestra (conducted by Richard Balcombe) and one of the Beeb's go-to choirs Capital Voices did stirling work keeping the whole thing together.

It was a thoroughly enjoyable and classy evening, and our "First Lady of British Musical Theatre" agreed - for there she was in all her diminutive, twinkly glory, in (as is fitting) the Royal Box!

Without further ado, let's let the lady herself provide some suitable "Sunday Music":

Elaine Paige - Don't Cry for Me Argentina (from Evita)

Elaine Paige - Memory (from Cats)

Elaine Paige - As If We Never Said Goodbye (from Sunset Boulevard

Magnificent!

Of jewellery, confectionery, awards, whispering and one of the best drummers ever

Utterly divine...

Another snippets post today, dear reader:

• Diamonds are a gay's best friend news: The Cartier exhibition at the V&A opens this weekend - and, among loads of delicious sparklies, features Wallis Simpson's sapphire cabochon panther brooch (as pictured above)! We're now members of the prestigious museum, so can go along as many times as we like - I wonder if they'll let us try on any of the jewellery?
• Non-lethal snacks news: The Scottish-born delicacy Tunnock's teacakes has finally been exonerated by scientists after being banned by the RAF from cockpits for decades for fear that they could explode and cause a disaster!
• Iconic cameo roles news: The woman behind the whispered "Big boys don't cry" line in 10CC's classic I'm Not In Love tells all.
• Luvvies news: Congratulations to John Lithgow, Lesley Manville and Dame Imelda Staunton (among others), who all won "Best Actor/Actress" in their category at last night's Olivier Awards!
• More sickly confectionery news: Manufacturer Cadbury's has unveiled the world's largest - 3ft tall! - Creme Egg. The world asks "Why?!"

• And finally - RIP, a membranophonic maestro: Clem Burke, world-renowned drummer and founder-member of Blondie with Debbie Harry and Chris Stein, has died, aged 70. By way of a tribute, a double-bill of the man's finest moments:

Blondie - Call Me

Blondie - Dreaming

Class.

And the weather? Sunny, sunny, sunny! Hoorah!

A warm hand on Julian's entrance

There is something in the British psyche that leads thousands upon thousands of people, up and down the country, regular theatre-goers or not, to be strangely drawn to go to a Panto at this time of year. Knockabout entertainment, full of child-friendly colours, bangs, special effects, puppets and clownish characters making silly jokes? Check. Filthy double-entendres and innuendo that flies over the kiddie-winkies' heads and keeps the adults entertained? Check. Loads of audience interaction, men dressed as women and women dressed as men, perhaps a famous (or semi-famous) face in a guest-starring role, a couple of recognisable songs, loads of OTT costumes, and a cornier-than-corny plot that doesn't take much concentration and inevitably leaves everyone happy-ever-after? Of course.

However, mix all those ingredients together with one of our finest camp comedians Julian Clary, and the deep, deep pockets of the London Palladium and the production company Michael Harrison's "Crossroads" - and the entertainment is simply the finest in the business!

So it was that "our gang" - Madam Arcati, Hils, Crog, John-John, Our Sal, Lou, Bence and I - champing at the bit with excitement - headed off for the Palladium's 2024-25 season spectacular Robin Hood.

From the review in London Theatre:

This Robin Hood would be better titled "The Julian Clary Show". Even though the cast is bursting with talent... it is Clary who draws us in with his eye-popping costumes (the giant owl and castle complete with turrets and flags are stand-out designs) and naughty humour. His jokes are so near the knuckle that audiences were left open-mouthed on press night with one comment about 73-year-old Nigel Havers being “the poster boy for the assisted dying campaign”. Clary also goes after Keir Starmer and former Masterchef presenter Gregg Wallace - though most of his jokes remain classic Clary smut.

It's what we pay our money for!

Eternal "butt of the jokes" Nigel Havers at least had his moment in the spotlight at the show's opening number We Need A Hero (sung by "The Spirit of the Forest", aka the "narrator" who tries his best to keep some semblance of plot threads together, Rob Madge), where - in addition to a tableau of British legends and, erm, an animatronic dinosaur(!) - he was lowered precariously on strings from the ceiling as Superman/"Super-Nige"! West End stalwart Charlie Stemp as "Alan-a-Dare" and newbie "Little John" (Tosh Wanogho-Maud) got to perform some spectacular dance numbers - and, of course, were frequently on the receiving end of Julian's acid tongue [oo-er].

“Channel 5’s sultry star” (according to Mr Clary) Jane McDonald was given free rein on the big show-stopper numbers like You're My World. Even American ex-pat - and actual musical theatre star - Marisha Wallace, despite appearing at times utterly bewildered in her role as the villainous "Sheriff of Nottingham" got to show off her talents, singing (for some reason unrelated to the show) Defying Gravity from Wicked. Of course, ventriloquist (and Palladium panto regular) Paul Zerdin and puppet "Sam" got all the customary call-and-return and singalong bits to engage the children. And the traditional - and exhausting - ensemble number If I Were Not a Merry Man, where everyone is in line, waving the tools of their "alternative chosen trade" around, almost hitting each other as they do so, was utterly hilarious! We had tears streaming down our faces.

From WhatsOnStage:

The chemistry between Clary and McDonald is panto gold, of course, as they both share a love for cruising (wink, wink, nudge, nudge) and her constant requests for him to “satisfy her womanly needs” are, alas, always met with a closeted hint of resistance.

...In a show that boasts giant, fire-breathing dragons and flying fire engines, drones disguised as ghosts floating over the audience and even a 3D film section, it’s simply the communal spirit of pantomime that brings the real festive fulfilment at the Palladium. As Madge sings: “Well… hello, panto! Ain’t it nice to have it back where it belongs?” - a nod to the venue’s Imelda Staunton-led Hello, Dolly! in the summer - you can’t help but lucidly reply: “Oh yes, it is!”

And... before the glittering finale, with all the biggest and best costumes on show being paraded around, there was the "big reveal". By way of concluding the story of "Robin and his Merry Men" getting their final comeuppance on "the Sheriff", the heroic "King Richard" needed to make his entrance to save the day. This part has been created in this show as a revolving door of special guest stars - indeed, previous King Richards have included James Corden, Dawn French, Jennifer Saunders, Gary Wilmot, Paul Merton, Mark Gatiss, Beverley Knight, Christopher Biggins, Patricia Hodge, Jenny Eclair, Alan Carr, David Walliams, Jason Donovan, Gyles Brandreth, David Mitchell, Lee Mead, Al Murray and Jon Culshaw (as Donald Trump!) - for this, the penultimate evening show, however, the honour went to...

Sir Ian ("Serena") McKellen!!

We were very "merry men", indeed!

Roll on next year, I say!

Here's to us. Who's like us? Damn few!

It's not every day that one is surrounded by divas of such magnitude

"There’s a fantastic chemistry between Rick and Steven, born of many years working together, but the show has a freshly minted flavour to it – they’re doing it just for us, you feel from the get go." - Brian Butler for GScene

That is precisely the sentiment we all felt, our little gang - Me, Madam Arcati, Hils, History Boy and John-John - as we sat in the surprisingly (and probably unnecessarily) sizeable environs of the Charing Cross (formerly Players') Theatre for a true meeting of Divas - Barbra & Liza Live! on Saturday evening.

The sublime creation of two long-serving veterans of the cabaret circuit Steven Brinberg as "Barbra" and our friend Rick Skye as "Liza", it's a tour-de-force of creativity - and an affectionate, if sometimes parodic, tribute to two of the greatest showbiz Grande Dames.

Mr Brinberg encapsulates everything that makes Miss Streisand the "MegaBabs" diva, idolised by generations - her poise, her gestures, her almost regal aloofness, but mainly that voice. The Way We Were, With One Look, Don’t Rain On My Parade, Send In The Clowns, Evergreen - all were magnificently delivered. Close your eyes, and you'd believe it was really her! Judge for yourself:

Simply Barbra - Send In The Clowns

His talent as an impressionist stretches further than just Babs, however, as he proved when he performed I'm Still Here as a succession of divas in turn - Eartha Kitt, Cleo Laine, Ethel Merman, Lena Horne, Cher, Bernadette Peters, Billie Holliday, Bette Davies, Gillian Anderson as Margaret Thatcher and more - and later, a "duet" between Miss Streisand and Anthony Newley on Who Can I Turn To! Flawless.

Mr Skye, on the other hand, portrays all the nuances of a feisty just-past-her-peak Liza, all twitchy moves, slightly breathless, wide-eyed and wistful in her anecdotes, at other times almost frantic in wanting to entertain and - quite amazingly without doing an actual impression of her vocal dexterity - allows the audience to suspend disbelief and whoop for joy at being in "her" presence! His speciality is to combine many of Miss Minnelli's actual numbers such as Maybe This Time, a frenetic Losing My Mind, I Wish You Love, Stepping Out and (of course) Cabaret (melded with Over the Rainbow) with his own clever, and very funny, twists on her repertoire.

Thus, there is the hilarious Ode to Betty Ford ["when you’re overwrought, it’s the best resort"], a medley of Liza's version of Beyonce's Single Ladies [from the Sex in the City film] with Ring Dem Bells, and - remarkably - Feed The Birds mingled with Pizzazz!...

...and this, a twist on a song written for her by ["her best friend" - a running joke; everybody's "her best friend" and she's "known them since I was eleven years old"] Charles Aznavour:

A Slice O' Minnelli - Too Quiet, Love

As the evening's "special guest" halfway through the show, Chuck Sweeney was a delightfully funny "Peggy Lee", and treated the audience to a frenzied rendition of her classic Fever.

The show closed, as it began, with a duet between the two leading ladies - on Sondheim's Old Friends - followed by a marvellous take on the famous "vocal duel" between Liza's mother Judy Garland and Babs herself - Get Happy and Happy Days Are Here Again.

A brilliant evening! We loved it.

Shame there was not a bigger turnout, really - I mentioned at the outset that this venue was probably too big for a show like this. All three of tonight's stars have previously appeared (to great acclaim) at true cabaret venues such as Crazy Coqs, and the intimacy of such spaces would most likely have worked better for all concerned. A minor detail, and I sincerely hope they do well for the rest of the run...

Barbra & Liza Live! is on at the Charing Cross Theatre until 17th November 2024.

I do give really good Diva

“I do give really good Diva. On stage I Diva it to death.”

We were in the presence of a Goddess on Tuesday night, as Madam Acarti, Hils, History Boy, Our Sal and I were at our second theatrical event in a matter of days - for the imperial appearance of Dame Joan Collins live on stage in the suitably sumptuous Art Deco surroundings of the West End's Adelphi Theatre!

From an interview with the Grande Dame in The Standard:

MC-ed by her husband Percy Gibson, [Joan Collins: Behind the Shoulder Pads] opens with a film montage of everyone from Oprah Winfrey to Johnny Carson introducing her.

“Then I come on, I say something witty, like ‘I’m Joan Collins’, and I launch into my life story, making it as amusing and interesting as I can, because everybody’s heard it a billion times.” After a break and a change into a new Amanda Wakeley or Jenny Packham gown there’s a Q&A with the audience. What’s the most surprising thing she’s been asked? “How do you put your false eyelashes on? And I said, I don’t wear false eyelashes any more. I don’t even wear mascara or eyeliner. They’ll ask about Dynasty, about the actors I worked with like John Gielgud, Nigel Hawthorne and Paul Newman. And they’ll often ask who was the best kisser.” And who was? “Paul Newman, of course!”

This offhand synopsis was, of course, her typically self-deprecating way of describing what was, in fact, a very illuminating and entertaining evening indeed.

With eight decades' worth of gossip in her portfolio we got little insights into everything in her long career, from RADA to the loathsome and predatory Daryl F. Zanuck and the "studio system", her friendships with the likes of Gene Kelly, Marlon Brando and Paul Newman, Elizabeth Taylor and Marilyn Monroe, the male co-stars she loathed (George Peppard and Tony Curtis got short shrift, and she obviously held no fondness for John Forsythe either), her marriages and children, the ups and downs of her screen career (from Queen of the Nile to The Opposite Sex, from Star Trek to Kingdom of the Ants, from The Stud to These Old Broads to American Horror Show) - with an obviously significant discussion of her absolute zenith as "Alexis" [Alexis Morrell Carrington Colby Dexter Rowan] in Dynasty.

Throughout the whole thing, she was (typically) self-confident and totally unflappable, and she looked utterly gorgeous and youthful despite her venerable age (91).

A totally fascinating and uber-camp evening's entertainment. We were, and we remain, in absolute awe...

Dame Joan Collins: 'One Night Only' in London

There will never be another Dame Joan Collins!

Is this the Cocksucker residence?

The marvellous Miss Kathleen Turner celebrates her 70th birthday today! We've adored her since she triumphantly turned the Steve Martin movie The Man With Two Brains from, well, a Steve Martin movie into something much, much more memorable. Even Romancing the Stone was bearable mainly because she was in it... But it is for one magnificent character we love her the most.

Here is Miss Turner in (probably) her finest, and certainly most camp, role as "Beverly" in John Waters' Serial Mom, tormenting poor "Dottie Hinkle" (Mink Stole)...

Kathleen Turner - Serial Mom - crank calling

Miss Turner has lately returned to her original great love, the stage. And here she is, singing in the play Mother Courage:

Kathleen Turner in Mother Courage

Unfortunately her Mother Courage never crossed the pond, and each time she's been in the West End we missed her - either in Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf? or Bakersfield Mist. Hopefully at some point we'll see her in a production - Serial Mom - the Musical, perhaps?!

Mary Kathleen Turner (born 19th June 1954)

Of Marvels, hidden and not-so-hidden London, and Kungs

"The social whorl never ceases", I said in response to a comment from Ms Scarlet the other day. Indeed it doesn't...

I was early arriving in the West End [deliberately so, as I neglected last Sunday to check whether there was a programme available for the Mandy Patinkin show, so went to the Lyric Theatre box office to enquire; the chap didn't know, but said he'd ask the promoter and give me a call] to meet up with John-John yesterday, and took a detour around the old stamping-grounds of Soho to the camp-as-tits dressing-up shop So High Soho before trolling down to our meeting place, the Wetherspoons in Leicester Square. The occasion? The latest Marvel blockbuster, The Marvels - which was a darn-sight better than some of the reviews would lead one to believe! Afterwards, since we were in Leicester Square, and he'd never been, I took John-John to the faboo rooftop bar at the swanky Hippodrome Casino for a drink and to take in the atmosphere of one of the best "hidden London" venues, looking down on the hubbub of the West End, before we ended up at Halfway II Heaven, in the company of chums Joe and Russ.

Today, I woke too early after what ended up a rather late night, felt a bit restless, and decided to take myself off to the sheer madness and crowds of Camden Market - again, like Soho, somewhere I haven't really meandered around since before the pandemic... It's not for the faint-hearted, and is in a constant state of flux so it's very easy to turn the wrong corner and find you're somewhere you've already been, but I thoroughly enjoyed soaking in the atmosphere and tutting at the bewildered tourists!

I came home empty-handed, but that's only because I was "umm-ing and aa-ing" about a particularly pricy "object of desire". It's payday next week, and I can almost guarantee I'll head back there and buy it...

Meanderings aside, I heard a choon today I hadn't heard for ages (we loved it so much back in 2016 that The Madam even had its "hook" as his ringtone for a while!), and now it's an earworm. So I thought I'd share:

Kungs vs Cookin’ on 3 Burners

Still a great song, seven years down the line...

Oh, Mandy - well, you came and you gave without taking

Our second outing of the weekend (this time, just Madam Arcati and I) was one we simply could not miss, even if the timing made for a rather hectic two days - a truly legendary "master of his craft" live on stage in London for the first time since January 2009. The first man to play "Che Guevara" in Evita on Broadway, the original "George" in Sondheim's Sunday in the Park with George, actor in Yentl, The Princess Bride and Homeland - Mr Mandy Patinkin!

We're so glad we did...

This was an amazingly eclectic evening of song - the moment he followed his opening wistful medley of songs about childhood (Inchworm/School Days/Time in a Bottle) with a hilarious take on Ella's A Tisket A Tasket, complete with him mimicking the little girl who lost it and a "police investigation" into the loss, complete with megaphone, we knew we were in for something very different from the norm. Indeed, no-one could have predicted the spectacle of Mr Patinkin's "Silent Movie Medley" (that included Paramount Blues, Movies Were Movies, I'm Always Chasing Rainbows and more), in which he mimed some classic silent routines (pretending to tune a guitar, doing the "Chaplin walk", getting all flummoxed over a newspaper that keeps getting bidder and bigger as it unfolds, and so on) or his solo rendition of Bohemian Rhapsody by Queen!

"Patinkin the actor is on full display. He doesn’t perform songs as much as he wears them as costumes, draping melodies over the fully realised characters he conjures in each three-minute number. When not singing, he is joyous, joking with the audience and telling stories. He is an engaging performer, and against a plain curtained backdrop with nothing but a spotlight to focus one’s eye, he has the entire audience alternately silently enraptured and roaring with laughter." - Ian Bowkett, Musical Theatre Review

For those of who know him as an arch-Sondheimite, he threw everything but the book into a pairing of Sorry-Grateful and Being Alive. At another point in the show, he related a touching anecdote about the family record collection (in which Angela Lansbury's Mame cast recording was one of just four stacked in the radiogram), and the occasion his father took young Mandy all the way to New York just to see it (and get her autograph). Years later, when Mr Patinkin and Ms Lansbury's paths crossed again, he remarked to her that he wished it was his dad, not him, who was present at that occasion - then performed a remarkable version of the Sondheim title song from Ms Lansbury's debut musical, Anyone Can Whistle.

Sondheim aside, Mr Patinkin took us on a roller-coaster ride of emotions from the excoriating sadness of Randy Newman’s Wandering Boy and Marc Anthony Thompson’s My Mom to the very silly If I Had a Boat by Lyell Lovett (another mime, this time of riding a horse), from Easy Street to Can You Use Any Money Today? to the incredible and energetic "patter-song" Rock Island from The Music Man, and the powerful Soliloquy from Carousel.

"Not alone, however, Patinkin shares the spotlight with pianist Adam Ben David providing a tightly synchronised and pitch-perfect performance from the side of the stage. The pair’s idiosyncratic back and forth is delightful and refrains from being distracting. There’s this gloriously playful sense of ‘making it up as they go’, which far from the truth, makes for an easy-going night from the Broadway showman." - Dominic Corr, The Reviews Hub/Corr Blimey

All this, and he still found time for some amusing repartee, mostly around his age (puffing and mopping his brow) and purported inability to read his own prompt notes or get to the end of an anecdote about his Bar Mitzvah - before suddenly snapping into a serious medley of You've Got to be Carefully Taught/Children Will Listen, followed by Kermit the Frog's It's Not Easy Being Green. One reads between the lines the politics behind some of his choices of songs, given the current world situation. That was made startlingly clear when, as an encore, he reminded the audience of the context in which one of the world's most beloved songs was written - its writer and composer were both sons of East European Jews who had fled the pogroms - and launched into a most spine-tingling rendition of Over The Rainbow. In Yiddish!

We could hardly breathe.

This was a truly magnificent show - get to see it while you can!

Mandy Patinkin - Live in Concert runs at the Lyric Theatre until 19 November 2023.

Here's (a much younger) Mandy singing that startling medley he performed for us on Sunday:

Mandy Patinkin - You've Got to be Carefully Taught/Children Will Listen medley

Sublime.

Some day I'm gonna make her mine

Heavens. What a weekend! Two trips to the theatre in succession, and with hardly time to blink it's Monday again (and all that entails...).

The first of the theatrical extravaganzas "our gang" - me, The Madam, Baby Steve, Houseboy Alex, Hils and Crog - gathered for on Saturday night was the most unexpected subject for a West End premiere - the five-decade relationship between Queen Elizabeth the Queen Mother and her loyal and trusted servant and confidant Billy Tallon. The Michael Grandage production plays free-and-easy with the real-life story, but it's a masterful concoction nonetheless.

With top-notch actors Dame Penelope Wilton and the hunky Luke Evans in the lead roles, the chemistry and quick-fire repartee between them was entirely believable, and simply wonderful!

"As Billy, Luke Evans is a rogue with a ramrod back and Feargal Sharkey’s hair, a stickler for propriety when it suits him, a mischievous rule-breaker when it doesn’t." - Nick Curtis, The Evening Standard

The play opens with a welcome taste of things to come, as two adorable corgis scamper across the magnificent set - recreating the Queen Mum's favourite the Garden Room at Clarence House - followed by the imperious "Billy" at the height of his powers, choreographing the setting of the numerous floral arrangements to create an ambience fit for a Queen. And her guests...

This is where Billy's mischief really shows itself. He and Her Maj having a long-established protocol of boozy gatherings - "no bores" - when two boring teetotallers turn up to rock that particular boat, he creates a "cordial" that is not all it seems, and farce abounds.

There are other staff whose eyes are on him, however - not least HM's prissy and uptight Private Secretary Kerr (Ian Drysdale), forever trying to tighten the purse-strings and get rid of Billy and his extravagance, who starts manipulating the "new boy" Gwydion (Iwan Davies) to spy on him.

Throughout all this The Queen Mother, with feigned disinterest, oversees everything!

"...it’s (Penelope) Wilton who owns the stage. She brings a dazed, distracted quality to the Queen Mother that acts as a smokescreen for papercut cruelty delivered with a benign smile. She and Evans establish a playful rapport. But this isn’t a straightforwardly heartwarming story - Billy is as much a plaything as anything. The Queen Mother’s blessing comes with conditions." - Tom Wicker, Time Out

Aside from all the campery and the repartee being played out in the "inner circle", there are two lovely touching moments when the set darkens and we travel back in time to when young Billy (Ilan Galkoff) [he was fifteen years old when he entered Royal service] and the Queen-in-mourning first build their enduring rapport - initially, in the moments after the funeral of her husband King George VI when she is not only bereft of her beloved, but also her home and title too; and in the second, just after the Coronation of HM Queen Elizabeth II, when she lost her eldest daughter to a life of duty and gained the epithet of Queen Mother. In the latter vignette, the touching way an old Queen allows a very young queen to wear her priceless jewels is remarkably well done.

The second half of the show, amongst the ribaldry and farce (Billy brings a shag Ian (Eloka Ivo) back to the palace, transgressing the sanctum of the Garden Room, is witnessed by the "new boy", and in the mayhem a huge painted dildo/"artwork" belonging to Ian gets lost amongst the boxed bibelots and curiosities from various collections that are used as "icebreakers" at Her Maj's regular gatherings - but who gets the box?), there's an attempt at a darker sub-text to all the frippery - in other words the otherwise completely ignored world outside, with its civil unrest, riots and the rise of Maggie Thatcher.

"Billy’s proud boast is “I have stopped time for her”, and inside the champagne continues to flow liberally, despite pressure on the Queen Mother to rein in her spending." - Fiona Mountford, iNews

Unfortunately, we found this change of tone to be a little jarring and unnecessary, especially the way Ian turned into a less-than-believable "radical cliché", but it didn't completely ruin the flow. The aftermath, with the Private Secretary believing he'd finally got rid of the thorn in his side - Billy up before "the Boss" for dismissal - takes a completely different tack, with "Britain's Favourite Grandmother" playing against all preconceptions and asserting her authority over her errant Steward and Page of the Backstairs in a most unexpected and humiliating manner.

As the concluding narrative - with "young Billy" and "Backstairs Billy" on stage at the same time - reminds us, however, he did indeed retain his position for the next twenty-three years, so who had the last laugh, really?

We utterly adored this show - hilariously funny one minute, full of pathos and sorrow the next, and unashamedly camp throughout.

[click any pic to embiggen]

I highly recommend it!

Backstairs Billy is at the Duke of York's Theatre, St Martin's Lane until 27th January 2024.

---

PS

I haven't forgotten it's a Tacky Music Monday, of course - here's something appropriate:

The Beatles - Her Majesty

Have a good week.

So please, don't fart

It may be my first day back in the office after the long weekend, but - pah!

Madam Arcati and I are off to a very special evening tonight...

...a live screening of the otherwise sold-out gala Stephen Sondheim's Old Friends: A Celebration, starring a panoply of glittering stars including Michael Ball, Helena Bonham Carter, Rob Brydon, Petula Clark, Rosalie Craig, Janie Dee, Judi Dench, Daniel Evans, Maria Friedman, Haydn Gwynne, Bonnie Langford, Damian Lewis, Julia McKenzie, Julian Ovenden, Bernadette Peters, Siân Phillips, Jon Robyns, Clive Rowe, Jenna Russell, Imelda Staunton, Charlie Stemp, Hannah Waddingham, Gary Wilmot and Michael Xavier!

Knowing the ill-behaved rabble that constitutes West End audiences these days (I blame Simon Cowell, Strictly and the whooping, hollering, baying audiences they encourage on TV), I sincerely hope this particular set of commands will be stricty adhered to:

Simon Russell Beale, Daniel Evans - Invocation and Instructions to the Audience (from The Frogs) [BBC Proms 2010 - Sondheim at 80]

Gods of the theatre, smile on us.
You who sit up there stern in judgment,
Smile on us.
You who look down on actors… (And who doesn't?)
Bless this yearly festival and smile on us.

We offer you song and dance.
We offer you rites and revels.
We offer you grace and beauty.
Smile on us for this while.
You who sit up there stern in judgment, smile on us.

We offer you song and dance.
We offer you rites and revels.
We offer you gods and heroes.
We offer you jokes and insults,
We offer you (we offer you) paeans and pageants,
Bacchanals and social comment.
Bless our play and smile.

Yes, but first…
Some dos and don'ts,
Mostly don'ts:

Please don't cough,
It tends to throw the actors off.
Have some respect for Aristophanes
And please, don't cough.

Please don't squeak,
We haven't oiled the seats all week.
You wouldn't want to miss a single work of Greek,
It's hard enough for us to hear each other speak
So please, don't squeak.

If you see flaws, please,
No loud guffaws, please,
Only because, please,
There are politer ways.
As for applause, please,
When there's a pause, please,
Although we welcome praise,
The echo sometimes lasts for days…
(Days…days…days…days…)

But first…
(Days…days…days…days…)

Don't take notes
To show us all you know the famous quotes.
And when you disapprove don't clear your throats
Or throw your crumpled programs, coins and coats
Or tell your neighbour scintillating anecdotes,
And please, refrain,
From candy wrapped in cellophane.

If we should get rhetorical,
Please don't curse.
Wait till it's allegorical,
And in verse!
If we should get satirical,
Don't take it wrong.
And if, by a sudden miracle,
A tune should appear that's lyrical,
Don't hum along.

When we are waxing humorous,
Please don't wane.
The jokes are obscure but numerous…
We'll explain.

When we are waxing serious,
Don't squirm or laugh.
It starts when we act mysterious.
And if you're in doubt, don't query us,
I'll signal you when we're serious
(It's in the second half).
(Half…half…half…half…)

But first…
Please, don't leave.
It only makes the actors grieve.
We may have something better up our sleeve,
So please,
Don't leave.

Don't say, "What?"
To every line you think you haven't got.
And if you're in a snit because you've missed the plot
(Of which I must admit there's not an awful lot),
Still don't
Say, "What?" (What?)

Do not intrude, please,
When someone's nude, please.
She's there for mood, please.
And mustn't be embraced.
If we are crude, please,
Don't sit and brood, please.
Let's not be too strait-laced -
The author's reputation isn't based
On taste.

So please, don't fart -
There's very little air and this is art.
And should we get offensive, don't lose heart,
Pretend it's just the playwright being smart.
Eventually we'll get to the catharsis, then depart.

And now…

But first…
We start.

I can't wait!

---

PS It was David Beckham's birthday yesterday.

[click to embiggen]

You're welcome.

What do we want?!

“When Peter Tatchell asked if DIVA would support the Reclaim Pride March and explained the concept, there was no hesitation. The idea of taking Pride back to its roots is one that we’re absolutely behind.” - Linda Riley of DIVA magazine and Lesbian Visibility Week.

And so it came to pass that a smattering of members of "our gang" - me, Madam Arcati, John-John, Baby Steve and Houseboy Alex from Essex, Mark, and the Madam's sister Carol and neice Jen all the way from Plymouth (and her friend from Brighton, too) - gathered at Parliament Square for what promised to be an event that took Gay Pride back to where it began, as a protest rather than merely a party.

click any photo to embiggen

Organised and led by our "Patron Saint of Pride", the admirable and unstoppable Peter Tatchell, Reclaim Pride was the first of its kind in the UK [there have been similar protests against the "commercialisation" of Pride events in the US], and its route was planned to follow in the footsteps of the very first Gay Pride march in London in 1972, from Parliament up Whitehall, Trafalgar Square, Regent Street and Oxford Street to Marble Arch for a "picnic" in Hyde Park. Unfortunately the scheduled 1pm start was delayed by an hour-and-a-half thanks to a competing anti-lockdown and anti-vaccine protest that was coming the other way and being dispersed across Westminster Bridge, so our legs were beginning to ache from standing around even before we actually started marching...

The usual mad assortment of participants were in evidence, as is the case with any such event - butch dykes, camp queens, families with kids, drag queens, veterans of Prides past as well as people who weren't even born when Section 28 was "a thing", the Socialist Workers' Party (of course), BLM supporters, Trans Rights campaigners, earnest student-types and eccentrics alike - but we amused ourselves, being in close proximity to possibly the dullest-voiced chant-caller in the history of protests, by changing the words a little, so "What do we want? Liberation! When do we want it? Now!" became "What do we want? Liberace! When do we want him? Now!" and so on...

We had a blast, even if we didn't do the whole distance. Bladders full after the long delays, we decided to exit the march just before it turned the corner into Oxford Street (around halfway, so not too shoddy an effort, methinks), and "took the Pride march on a new route" - to our mate Sally's pub off Carnaby Street!

The Shaston Arms has traditionally been the "headquarters" for our Pride Days, as it's where we gather on "Gay Xmas" for champagne-and-bacon-butties breakfast and change into our outfits ready to face our adoring public (and we will no doubt be doing so again on the rescheduled "official" Pride London day on 11th September), so it seemed appropriate. We were joined by "non-participants" in the march Hils and Crog, Steve and Sian, Russ and Joe and of course (once she'd finished her stock-take and paperwork) by Sal herself - and didn't leave till our taxi arrived at last orders!

A fabulous day, all round.

To conclude, a classic:

Tom Robinson - Glad To Be Gay

I'm Coming Out!

Yes, Indeed!

John-John, Paul and I are out on the razz tonight for a long-overdue visit to "London's peerless gay literary salon" Polari, once again raising the rafters at (a socially-distanced, table-service-only) Heaven nightclub!

My first evening out in seven months. I can't wait!

All together, now...

Wham! - The Edge of Heaven

Take me to the edge of heaven
Tell me that my soul's forgiven
Hide your baby's eyes and we can
We can, woo
Take me to the edge of heaven
One last time might be forever

Indeed.

A Public Service Announcement...

...from Oscar Conlon-Morrey and a cast of dozens of West End troupers:

They'll Be Back. I look forward to that day!

Fairy foul-mouth, the obsessions of youth, gold star lesbians, Olympian lust and Diamonds Are Forever - in Heaven

John-John, little Tony and I trolled along to the legendary gay nightclub Heaven on Tuesday evening - not for a night of dancing and debauchery, needless to say at our venerable age, but for a special edition of "London's peerless gay literary salon" Polari!

As it was when last we were there, the main dancefloor was packed with punters (seated for a change) - including Our Paul, Emma and Toby, Bryanne and Simon, Adele Anderson, Karen McLeod, Paulo, our former Scope colleague David and his hubbie Max, Ian Elmslie, and many more regulars and assorted literati - eagerly awaiting a cultural, rather than hedonistic, experience. Our host Mr Paul Burston, paying tribute to Madonna's "Madam X" at stages throughout the show, opened the proceedings with aplomb...



...and first up we had a pantomime (after a fashion) - "oh, yes we did!" - a Trans Fairy Tale, performed by Cerys Evans. As the review in Broadway Baby described:

Once upon a time there was a fairy godmother. Except, this fairy godmother is more likely to say ‘bibbity-bobbity-fuck-you’ than turn a pumpkin into a silver carriage. She’s not magical, she doesn’t really care about her spoilt princess clients and she wakes up with her wild hair, her nightgown inside out and blowing raspberries...

Subversive, or what? The snippet of the show we got probably didn't do the show justice, but this was a good ice-breaking opener nonetheless.



As this special event formed part of this year's LGBT History Month, Paul Burston stepped outside his usual "safe zone" of MC, interviewer or reader of his own works of fiction into a more autobiographical mood [he hinted that there may indeed be a memoir-in-the-making]. Accompanied by a mini-slideshow of photos from his youth, to varying degrees somewhat embarrassing, he gave us a little vignette from his younger (more naive) days on the gay scene - enamoured of a Greek Adonis to such a degree he abandoned a family holiday to seek him out on a neighbouring Aegean isle, only, as is the way with whirlwind romances, to be sorely disappointed by the reunion. Lessons learned all round, but all part of life's rich tapestry, I suppose.

I look forward to seeing this salacious tell-all story being serialised in the Sunday People in the near future!

Completing the triumvirate of acts in the first half was the award-winning performance poet and activist Joelle Taylor, with her dramatic poem Cunto, latterly re-titled Butterfly Fist - which she herself described as:

"highlighting the journey we masculine women, we butches, we gold star lesbians have taken. It speaks of the female body as a political act and focuses on one simple intent: the taking back of a body. It looks at homophobia and misogyny and talks about the community we forged to overcome the grief of our own lives."

And here's just the merest clip of it, for your delectation:

Joelle Taylor - Cunto

Stunning stuff, indeed!

We really needed a fag after that, and, after the much-needed "comfort break", a trip to the bar and a little chance to mingle, it was up with the strobe and on with the rest of the show...



Opening proceedings was the glamorous Nikita Gill - a self-made success story thanks to her posts on social media - who read a few marvellous pieces from her new poetry anthology Great Goddesses, exploring some of the hidden-in-plain-sight same-sex desires of the Olympians. With stanzas such as these, who could resist?

“You, who wove stars into your hair as a girl,
and equally let them freckle your skin,
held the moon up as a looking-glass
and bewitched existence for eternity.”

"I watch Girl become Goddess
and the metamorphosis is more
magnificent than anything
I have ever known."

Nikita Gill - Great Goddesses

Of course, it could not end there.



There was a real treat in store, as the very lovely David McAlmont and his esteemed collaborator Janette Mason took to the stage, to perform a series of numbers from LGBT+ artists - including David Bowie and George Michael - and those we adore, such as Dame Shirley Bassey (Mr McAlmont's impeccable version of Diamonds Are Forever, of course!).

Despite the occasional crack in his voice (due to a cold), the shivers were riding up and down my spine throughout this brilliant performance! Why-oh-why is Mr McAlmont not up there with the great soul legends?!

Janette Mason and David McAlmont - Sweet Thing [Bowie]

We were left speechless.



Another triumphal night co-ordinated by Mr Burston - and, despite the absence of the DJ as advertised on our Eventbrite tickets, a thoroughly enjoyable one.

Next month, "the salon" returns to the Southbank, with headliner Philip Hensher, plus readings from Susie Lynes, Jennie Stone and Jamie Christian. I can't wait!

We love Polari!