Santa's beard hairs, an assassin, the Boy, perfectly Frank, boarding school dorm fun, and an Agony Aunt

"And so here it is, Merry Polari,
Ev'rybody's having fun!"

So it was that I trolled off (on my own - although Bryanne and Simon arrived to keep me company) through the slush and the biting winds on Monday to the Southbank, for the very last outing of "London's peerless gay literary salon" in 2017 - A Very Polari Christmas! Unfortunately I had neglected to put my camera into my bag in the haze of getting ready to to go to work, so any pics here are courtesy of fellow Polari-ites...



Our host Paul Burston was gaily bedecked as a hipster Santa to open proceedings, managing to hold it all together despite spitting out beard hairs, wished us Season's Greetings - and, without further ado introduced our first reader (and Polari regular) William Parker.

Fellow "New-putt"-born Mr Parker read from us a couple of pieces from his as-yet-unpublished new work. Weaving together the childhood experiences of a lonely (gay) schoolboy, the trepidation he and and his chums feel using a Ouija board for the first time, and (as reflected in a series of flashbacks to her own childhood) the spirit they conjure up - bizarrely, that of Charlotte Corday, the woman who was caught up in the French Revolution and became notorious as the assassin of the vicious Jean-Paul Marat, his selection was bewildering, and yet very intriguing indeed...



Next to the stand was a real raconteur of the old school variety - Mr Ian Elmslie. Formerly "the Boy" of legendary cabaret duo Katrina and the Boy [who I saw perform at the now-defunct Market Tavern in Vauxhall waaaay back in 1991!], apparently he was born at the same hospital as Quentin Crisp; he certainly brought a little load of camp to the proceedings - resplendent as he was with immaculate maquillage and sparkly brooch [pictured above]!

He read for us (with all the voices!) a couple of pieces from his memoir (or, as he described it, "a series of thank-you notes") A Marvellous Party, featuring his meetings with the great and the good among his (and our) heroes, including Dame Julie Walters (whose appearance was subject to a running commentary by the local bric-a-brac shopkeeper and the theatre's charlady)... and Armistead Maupin:

Ian Elmslie - A Marvellous Party - The day I met Armistead Maupin

Simply faboo, sweeties!

How could the delightful Miss Susie Boyt possibly follow that? Arriving on stage, top-to-toe in the most divine silver ensemble, and with her characteristically dry-as-dust delivery, she managed very well, methinks - especially as she opened with a little prize quiz. "Who is the only Oscar-winner, both of whose parents were also Oscar-winners?", she asked. "Liza Minnelli", I responded in a stage whisper - and promptly won a copy of her book Love & Fame (from which her reading for us was taken)!

And what a story this was - the convoluted escapades of our heroine, a media-type waiting at a posh hotel for her supposed celeb-interviewee (who, she knows after six hours, is never going to show up); she makes a rash decision to instead amuse herself by inviting an older stranger ("Perfectly Frank") she met in the bar to her room. Then she promptly spends the rest of the evening on the phone to her sister, going over and over the feelings they felt at their mother's funeral. Meanwhile, the disappointed stranger leaves - and we are left hanging, wondering what she's up to...

I cannot pay sufficient justice to Miss Boyt's talents - the audience was enraptured!

With all that ringing in our ears, however, it was time to brave the chill for a fag-break and a top-up at the bar.

Warming up the audience for the second half [metaphorically and literally; the room was cosier than the windswept walkways of the Southbank!], Paul - "robbed" of his Santa-suit - proudly introduced a "literary hero of his" to the stand, the remarkable Mr Tony Peake.

He read from us a few passages from his first new novel in 20 years North Facing, the blurb for which reads thus:

A novel of awakening and atonement, this exquisitely realised story revisits a seminal boyhood moment as it plays out - with unexpected and sinister consequences - against the backdrop of political upheaval in South Africa. For one long, intense week in October 1962, the Cuban Missile Crisis brought with it an East-West stand-off and the possibility of nuclear holocaust. On the other side of the globe, in Pretoria, a group of schoolboys scan the horizon for signs that the world is about to end. There is political tension here too, and the power struggles and cruelties of the boys mirror the corruption of a deeply divided country. Paul Harvey - sensitive, isolated, and desperate to fit in at school despite his English heritage - will do whatever is needed to please the class ringleader, Andre du Toit. Now in his sixties and living abroad, Paul is drawn back to South Africa to confront the unexpected and chilling consequences of this seminal boyhood moment - and the part he unwittingly played in the drama that unfolded.

At times teasingly erotic (just what was he prepared to do for Andre in the dorm in order to be accepted into the "gang"?) and funny (the older Paul encountering an "English countryside"-themed hotel in the midst of the lawless "badlands" outside Johannesburg), this has the promise of being a very good read, indeed.

But, of course, now it was time for the "true" Spirit of Xmas to take to the stage: the "Secret Santa" herself, "Aunty" Val Lee!

Reading a selection of hilarious "letters" from her "agony aunt postbag", she dished out a wealth of pithy (and often ridiculously awry) "advice" to all and sundry. With the laughter subsiding, she shed her "advice columnist" persona in favour of "VG Lee, Author" - to read for us a passage from her classic Always You, Edina.

The piece she focused us on was engrossing - the childhood memories of the book's protagonist Bonnie, and her daily attempts to impress the idol of her life: Joanna Bayliss, the most popular girl at her school; the games she invented, the glances they shared, the desperate yearning... and the contrast between her dreams and the reality of her home life, and her relationship with her no-nonsense Nan. Brilliant, as always!





And so, with the customary "curtain call" of all the evening's readers, another fantabulosa evening's literary entertainment came to a close - with resounding applause, as one might expect!

Now we have to wait till the itinerary for next year's Polari events is published before making plans for the next visit - hopefully it won't be too long a wait.

We love Polari!

Clairvoyancy, Firefighter Trout, the Queen of Spain's daughter and "Eat Me" shorts

I went along to witness a birth last night. In the quaint surroundings of the mock-Tudor Wheatsheaf pub just off trendy Charlotte Street in Fitzrovia, a fabulous coterie of literary gay men and women gathered to welcome the new anthology of short stories Men and Women (edited by Paul Burston) into the world!



After much re-organisation of the furniture and the lighting (to accommodate the film being made of the proceedings), our host Bobby Nayyar - the powerhouse behind independent publishing house Glasshouse Books - opened proceedings by introducing our first reader from the compilation, the lovely Alex Hopkins (Polari regular, freelance writer, journalist and blogger). He performed (in every sense of the word - the voices and mannerisms of his characters were reminiscent of Kenneth Williams in Round The Horne) rather than read from his tale The Anniversary. It has nothing to do with the infamous Bette Davis film but, as this extract illustrates, it is certainly every bit as camp:

Ben eased his way through the crowd with a confident swagger as Frank stood and bellowed through the nameless faces in his finest Norma Desmond intonation, "You there! Why are you so late?"

As Ben approached Frank looked him up and down scathingly, registering his red eyes and sickly pallor. "Hello Velma,"Ben said shyly, using the nickname he had affectionately given Frank years before.

"I have been waiting here, amongst this rancidity, for almost half an hour, dear", Frank spat, "Clearly you were out on the shame last night - again."

And so we are treated to the fabulous badinage between these two old queens, and beautifully written and absorbing it is too - rather reminiscent of home life here at Dolores Delargo Towers! I loved it, and will immediately be investigating Alex's Dissident Musings blog.



Onward and upward, and our next reader was the diminutive actor and writer Angela Clerkin, whose tale of a very seductive Brighton clairvoyant and her Fuck It List was hilarious and fascinating - and elicited whoops of joy from the the audience as her heroine gets to achieve some remarkable adventures. On investigating Ms Clerkin's work, I am rather upset that I missed her appearance with Stella Duffy as Bette Davis and Joan Crawford in Whatever Happened to Baby Jane at the Drill Hall last December...



Completing the triumverate of readers in the first round was the fantabulosa Karen McLeod - she of the notorious balaclava-clad entrance at Polari Stalkers' Night way back in January 2009 - who gave us another of her customary hilarious and slightly twisted tales, Never Can Say Goodbye. This small passage gives us a flavour:

I met Lorna the night my long term girlfriend Suzie had stopped taking her lithium and set fire to the garden shed. Lorna had arrived in her uniform and helmet, jumping out of the fire engine with her unusual face.She introduced herself quickly as Firefighter Trout. At first, she struck me as unattractive with her tiny eyes and big face. The helmet hid all her hair and the chin strap was squeezing her double chin. But within moments she'd unrolled then controlled the jet of water coming out the hose and stamped out the last of the fire into the dandelions with her sooty boots. Her strange face became replaced with fuzzy heroism.

Brilliantly written, and brilliantly delivered!



After the break the lovely William Parker, who entertained us at the last Polari, once more read from Fern Cottage, his engaging tale of an elderly aristocratic gay curmudgeon reflecting on his past life while hating every moment of being confined to a nursing home, summed rather brilliantly up in this extract:

And then, just as I was trying to get a bit of a nap, the old bugger from across the corridor started up. Same thing every damn afternoon I've been here. Top of his voice. "I want to go home. Tell my mother to send her car round for me! I must have my mother's care! Let her know I'm here..."

Two hours of it with his door wide open until I'd really had enough.

"Excuse me!" I shouted. "Could I ask how old you are?"

Exasperated reply after a pause."I'm ninety-two. Ninety-two!"

"In that case, might I be permitted to ask how old you think your bloody mother might be now?" That shut him up for a bit.

I read the whole story today, and I must admit it brought a tear to my eye. Bloody good stuff.



Mr Parker was followed swiftly by "The Queen of Literary Lesbians", Miss Stella Duffy, who admitted that her story Partridge in a Pear Tree was on its second outing for this anthology, having previously been used in a "Twelve Days of Xmas" themed collection (hence the title). Nonetheless, it was excellent to hear the skilfully woven thread of this fantastical tale involving airlines, poetry and the Queen of Spain's daughter... As ever, Miss Duffy at once intrigues and entertains - I always enjoy her writing and she didn't disappoint!



The readings concluded (appropriately), with our fave Mr Paul Burston. As is customary, Mr B usually tries to dress according to the theme, and as his story Enjoy Carioca is all about Brazil he took to the stage draped in the Brazilian flag and headgear. Appropriate, indeed, as he is married to a "Carioca" (a person from Rio de Janeiro) and as he said, "enjoys Carioca every night". The story, too, is slightly smutty and very enticing:

...there was no denying that the boy wore them well. On lesser mortals, the trunks would have looked like false advertising. On him, the words "Enjoy Carioca" couldn't have been more apt. He was like an exotic fruit waiting to be tasted. His trunks were a provocation. Or possibly an invitation. They might just as well have said "Eat Me".

And the tale of two rampant gay men on their honeymoon continues in that vein...

This was a great evening, and an excellent launch for what promises to be a book full of surprises. I am tucking into it already, and look forward to reading the whole thing.



Men and Women is available on Amazon

Three Tims, badger duvets, Italian Mammas and provincial lesbian drama

Another gay day, another Polari!

In the last of the season's "peerless gay literary salons" (Paul takes a break in August), we were filled with anticipation of the announcement of the long-list of entrants for the Polari First Book Prize, and no less than three authors all called "Tim".

Paul Burston, last night representing "The Gay Mafia" in his dapper suit, was a little flushed at trying to organise disappearing speakers and shmooze his fantabulosa audience (including the lovely and ever-so-eccentric Miss Helen Lederer, who joined John-John and I at our table), but eventually all seemed to go to plan...





The first of the Tims, opening the show, was (the rather cute) Mr Brady, reading from his novel Big Ben. In the four extracts he read, our eponymous hero goes from ostensibly straight Italian newcomer to London, through embarrassing "outing" by a horny ex-girlfriend who catches him in bed with a Brazilian, to the rather hilarious attempt to keep meddling Mamma apart from said shag (with no success, unfortunately for him). Very enjoyable indeed! Mr Brady missed the deadline for the prize this year, but hopes his novel will go forward for the 2012 one.



Our second Tim, Mr Graves, told a far darker and spookier tale, Bright Fire of Morning all about an obsessive sexual encounter between a lad and what might have been a sexy demon, or ghost, or..? Sublimely told, you could hear a pin drop across the whole room as the slightly creepy story unfolded...



From the sinister to the cynical, the fabulously entertaining William Parker read us the tale of an archetypal grumpy old man - an elderly gent from very posh surroundings who has found himself in the awfulness of a nursing home, with its dementia sufferers, zimmer frames, duvets (which move around like “a demented badger”, unlike familiar blankets) and dreadful food. Mr Parker's short story features in the forthcoming sequel to last year's gay anthology Boys & Girls, called (naturally) Men & Women (also edited by Paul Burston, it launches on 14 July) - totally enthralling stuff!



After the break, our perennial Polari favourite the lovely V.G. (Val) Lee had us in stitches with her wonderfully witty tale of Lucky Patricia (also included in Men & Women): our heroine's found herself a new sophisticated girlfriend, and it has rather shaken up the cosy lesbian social circle in rural Hastings! As always, Val proved to be a true star, and a brilliant entertainer...



Next up, our third Tim, this time Mr Arthur (son of Playschool host Toni Arthur, no less), who - as he admitted - was sorry to lower the tone somewhat with his grim tale of one backwoods American woman's sordid revenge on her abusive husband. Involving a cage in the basement and some humiliating sexual favours, this is just one of a series of tales in his book The Blind Dog Gospels, all told from the warped imagination of an individual dying of cancer of the optic nerve. Thankfully, Mr Arthur was a very jolly reader, which lightened the piece somewhat!

Paul and "partner in crime" Rachel Holmes, Head of Literature and Spoken Word at the Southbank Centre, announced the Polari First Book Prize long list:

• Julian Corkle Is A Filthy Liar – DJ Connell
• Same Again Please - Michael B Jones
• London Triptych – Jonathan Kemp
• The Bird Keeper – Issy Festing
• Love, Hope and High Heels – Clare Campbell
• I Don’t Remember You – Stephanie Lennox
• Children of the Sun – Max Schaefer
• Autofellatio – James Maker
• Homo Jihad – Timothy Graves
• C’est La Vie – Bruce Hodson

Our final turn of the evening was the lovely lady lesbian DJ Connell, reading first from her prize-nominated Julian Corkle Is A Filthy Liar (which we first encountered at Polari back last November, alongside Mr Parker); the hilarious story of the campest little queen growing up in the most stifling of backgrounds in 1970s Tasmania). She also gave us a teaser of her new novel Sherry Cracker Gets Normal, which launches next week.



Another absolute corker of an evening! I will miss Polari next month...

Bookworm...

Internet has been down at home for two days, MySpazz has gone over to the dark side, but as predicted this is turning out to be a great literary week!



On Monday Madame Acarti, Paul, Jim and I settled ourselves in the "Royal Box" (front table) at Polari (back in the prime surroundings of St Paul's Pavilion where it belongs), to help celebrate the third birthday of "London's peerless gay literary salon". It seems like only yesterday that we first stepped across the hallowed threshold of the (late, dearly departed) Trash Palace in Wardour Street to be educated, entertained and indeed aurally assaulted by the magnificent (and also dearly departed, RIP) Sebastian Horsley!

As Paul Burston - in celebratory mood, understandably - mused, no-one involved in its launch back in The Green Carnation Bar in Frith Street would ever have believed that three years later we would be in such a prominent and prestigious venue as the Royal Festival Hall.

The evening's proceedings opened with fresh faced new author Ryan Child with his stunning and quite scary tale of a rabid queer-basher who falls for the boyfriend of one of his gang's victims. If Mr Child hadn't been so goddam sexy, we might have been a bit depressed at the gritty reality of his words. But he was mesmerising...



Lightening the mood somewhat, Justin Ward "strummed my life with his words" as he regaled with minute detail the excruciating tale of a small-town gay boy trapped in a world of ghastly family parties in social clubs, leery women and drunken oiks - superbly written and hilarious, but very very familiar... Read another of his short stories about dysfunctional families.

Our next reader William Parker was actually born in Newport (the small town that provided me with so many of those familiar scenarios Mr Ward described), but was brought up away from all that - with his booming actor's voice it was obvious he was one of the lucky ones. His story opened (hilariously) with the main character Ben falling drunkenly head-first down the stairs outside Charing Cross station, and revelled in the recollections of the bewildered childhood that had led him to that point - excellently read, excellently written. We loved it! Read more at http://william-parker.com/

Jonathan Kemp is one of the recently announced contenders short-listed for the brand new Green Carnation Prize for gay literature. His novel London Triptych flick-flaks between the lives of male prostitutes in three different eras - Oscar Wilde's turn-of-the-century, 50s post-war, and modern London - and with a couple of explicit extracts (each told from the rent boys' point of view), he had the audience gripped! A strong contender for the prize, I'd say (although my vote is for the fellow shortlisted Rupert Smith's Man's World).

Almost the climax(!) of the evening was the Kiwi author(ess) DJ Connell, whose debut novel Julian Corkle Is a Filthy Liar has variously been reviewed as "a Tasmanian Adrian Mole" and "one of the funniest rites of passage novels in a long time". From the extracts she read it certainly seems a very funny tale indeed, as the exceptionally camp Julian relates his adventures growing up in the uber-macho rural backwoods of Taz...

To round the night off with suitably big bang, our darling Celine had made an extra special effort to be there, and had brought along a very special friend to say a few words of congratulation on the anniversary - the Latino firebrand Mr Coati Mundi (of Kid Creole & the Coconuts and Dr Buzzard's Original Savannah Band fame)!



After Celine had entertained the punters with a selection of her rollicking rhythmic performance poems (during one of which she entwined herself rather firmly around Jim, seated as he was almost on the stage!), it was time for Paul to make his big announcement - the launch of The Polari Prize. Strictly limited to new works rather than previously published authors, the prize is open to a first book which explores the queer experience and is open to any work published in the UK in English within the twelve months leading up to the submission date (poetry or prose, fiction or non-fiction). So start thinking about your nominations now!

After the glitter had settled on the evening's proceedings Madame Arcati, Paul, Celine, Mr Mundi and I trolled off for a swifty at the Retro Bar before dispersing - such good company to finish off a magnificent evening!

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Continuing the literary theme, last night I went along to Islington Central Library for Homosexuality in literature: sodomy & censorship with Neil McKenna, author of The Secret Life of Oscar Wilde.

This, too, was a fantabulosa (if much less well-attended) event, as the theatrical Mr McKenna took us through a lively selection of examples of where gay lifestyles have been censored, edited, legislated against or erased from the pages of novels, poetry, history books, biographies and the theatrical stage. From early Renaissance comedies, through the Earl of Rochester's play Sodom, to Victorian transvestite rent boys "Fanny" and "Stella", Oscar Wilde, Radcliffe Hall's The Well of Loneliness, Stephen Spender's war poetry to the control that the Lord Chancellor held over the theatre even in the era of Joe Orton, he covered them all...

Whew! It was great, and I want to read (and learn) more. Mr McKenna's historical work about those Victorian trannies, and their scandalous trial, will be published in the new year, and I can't wait to read it. Read more about Neil.

Tonight we are eschewing literature (the book readings by Rupert Smith, Christopher Fowler et al at "Gay's the Word" bookshop) in favour of a rare showing of Terrence McNally's marvellous film The Ritz at the BFI - but this week has definitely been one for books.

I am currently reading Mr Fowler's Paperboy for my LGBT reading group, I recently completed the fourth of Paul Magrs' "Brenda & Effie" books Hell's Belles, and I have decided that as times is 'ard, everyone this Xmas will be getting books from charity shops (which is just another excuse to rifle through the shelves of every "Save The Children", "Oxfam" or "Macmillan Cancer Care" shop from Enfield to Kingston!).

The love of learning, the sequestered nooks,
And all the sweet serenity of books.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow