Circus, 12th July

I thought Circus was going to serve up something along the lines of the London Cabaret Club – a show that was fun, but inoffensive, not too risqué. But Circus is an altogether racier night. Not so at first, when a duo dressed in polka dot swimsuits a la 50s pin ups did an aerial hoop performance against a backdrop of doo wop music. But each act got naughtier and sexier, culminating in a fire-eating performance to Welcome to the Jungle, where the fire eater whipped out her tatas and set her pasties alight!

I was impressed by every act and enjoyed the soundtrack of uncensored hip hop and Missy Elliot tracks so I was, I must admit, a little surprised that the food more than passed muster. The place serves pan-Asian food – so you can have dim sum, or sushi/sashimi or tempura, and then most of the mains have an Oriental flavouring to them. I was invited to dine here and we had one starter, main and dessert each. I was stuffed to the gills afterwards.

First I had the chicken truffle shumai with yuzu ponzu. These little parcels were packed with chickeny goodness and were quickly devoured. My friend Sam had the black cod tempura with a tequila salsa which really had a boozy bite to it. The light batter and delicate flesh melted on your tongue.

Next I had the black miso cod – amazingly sweet flavours with firm fish flesh. And a very generous amount!

Sam ordered the New York Strip which you could cook to your liking because it came served on hot (very hot) rocks sizzling away.

For sides you can have smoked aubergine, steamed rice or baby bok choy. We had one of each and that smoked and sweet aubergine is the best aubergine I’ve ever had.

Dessert was good but I think I went for the ‘too safe’ option of a chocolate fondant so I wasn’t wowed by it. It oozed as it should have done but yeah, not much else I am tempted to write about it. Sam’s yoghurt cake, however, was definitely different and therefore stood out. Slightly dense and sweet. 

The overall experience definitely had the wow factor - it would be an excellent treat for a date, or a close friend. And definitely one to put you in a sexy mood...

Le Salon Noir, 24th September

Hot hot hot is the best way to describe Le Salon Noir. But sorry boys, you’re not invited. This is a women’s only burlesque event. A sexy women’s only burlesque event. With partying and playing after. In fact, it turned out playing during was also heartily encouraged but I think everyone was too focused on the acts happening in front of them to bother with that.

Ok, so yes, ladies only in this context was meant in a Sapphic sense, but any girl who can appreciate the sensuality of the female form would enjoy the night. It was easily the most erotic burlesque I have ever seen – possibly because they didn’t have to worry about men getting overly excited and ruining it for everyone. The sassy, sexy host was funny and moved the action along, as well as belting out a few numbers herself. There were two or three girls who did a couple of acts each – everything had a slight (or not so slight) kinky feel to it. For example, the act where our compere’s gimp came on stage and was told to lapdance a member of the audience! And this was a hell of a lapdance!

Tickets were £20 and included a glass of bubbly as you came in which was just the kind of touch which makes you feel the night is a little bit special. After the show was over the music and the party continued! A really sexy and intimate night – I highly recommend it to women with a sense of mischief!

Anything but Grey, Serendipity party, 13th February

Most people would want to be known as Anything but Grey, and Serendipity’s first party certainly allowed people to discover their ‘colourful’ side if they hadn’t yet already. A night that aimed to show the ‘real’ side of BDSM (take control don't 'lose control') which has been portrayed in the dreaded 50 Shades franchise, they put on a successful party allowing people to dip their toe in kink without going too crazy with it. It was an occasion – dressing up was mandatory – but not full-on fetish like TG. Tasteful elegance was enough – ball gowns and tuxes but any extra touches were welcomed. It was held in the frankly gorgeous setting of Bloomsbury Ballroom and we were all treated to a complimentary (or two) glass of prosecco while we waited for those who had bought the VIP dinner ticket to finish up. Then we went through to the main area, where seating was provided along a long catwalk. Nibbles (very salty popcorn and veggie crisps) were handed out though these were replaced by proper canapes later in the evening and even a massive cheese board! Now that is the way to do a party – throw in some cheese!

Anyway, the night began with an alternative fashion show, which was truly a feast for the eyes, with many different designers and lines on show. After this, we had something of a cabaret/burlesque performance – some aerial work, a magician, and all presided over by Lolo Brow, the ‘drag king’ who is an excellent host. The calibre was high among most of the performers (I missed the magician who apparently wasn't so good) and I was impressed. Unfortunately, despite this, I felt that it went on for a little longer than it needed to and perhaps the burlesque could have been interspersed more with the fashion show. I was also there to party and by the time the show was over, more than half the night had disappeared. There was no time for the music to get cranked and us to get crunk. Especially if you had plans to indulge in the other side of the event – for it wasn't really until the show was over that the specially-built 'dungeon' was unveiled and ready for full use. This was an area at the back of the main room, although paraphernalia and kit spread out along the sides as well. Bondage, ropework, flogging – it was all happening, though there was no pressure to participate, and it was set up for those curious (or voyeuristic) to get a good view.

Drinks were a pretty decent price, and the crowd was a mix of seasoned fet veterans and newbies just there for the burlesque. There had been a question from some of my friends as to whether such a mix would work, but I think it did. Plenty of space for a bit of a fashion/burlesque/fetish crossover night in the London alternative nightlife scene  - just give us more dancing!

Finger in the Pie, 6th July

I'd only recently seen the crème de la crème of cabaret at Black Cat, so I was completely prepared to be underwhelmed by Finger in the Pie, a monthly cabaret show at Madame JoJo’s. On a Sunday.

But I've been wanting to check it out so took my Meetup group along with me. And when we got there and there was a queue, I began to wonder if I should expect a little more. I will admit, what followed wasn’t quite as sleek, sexy and showbiz as something like the Black Cat, but boy was it fun! And just plain weird.

Hosted by Michael Twaits, the manliest transvestite I’ve probably ever seen (he doesn’t even bother to shave his legs) we were treated to acts ranging from the ridiculous to the slightly less ridiculous. There was quite a heavy emphasis in this show on comedy, even when it wasn’t strictly a comedy routine. There were a few burlesque acts as well, a couple of which were rather routine, but one I really enjoyed – Little Lady Luscious did some actual ballet combined with a sort of dance of a thousand scarves routine. Different and effective, which is what I’m looking for in burlesque.

Some of the acts were just baffling but not necessarily in a bad way. Some of these were my favourites. ‘Katy’s friend’ for example, where ‘Katy’ came in dragging what I thought was a rock in a cart behind her. It wasn’t a rock, it was a sheep’s skull and then she sang ‘The first time ever I saw your head’ her ode to her deceased lamb lover.

Probably my absolute favouritest act was ‘Womans’. With a generic Borat-like accent she wooed us with the art form of dance. Unfortunately what she did doesn’t lend itself well to being described – it’s a ‘you had to have been there’ kind of act. Let me just say three words. Art. Bum. Tassles. Carlos, Istanbul’s premier operatic singer was a close runner for top performance. He came out with his accordion and ‘sang’ a song that is about as far from opera as you can get and was utterly hilarious. He’s actually got a solo show at Soho Theatre this week and I’d definitely recommend checking him out.

The truly weirdest act was probably Gentleman John and his friend. He came out with a colander on his head strapped on with an elastic band, a bushy moustache and boxing gloves, while his friend came out in multi-coloured clothes and some leggings on his head. And then they proceeded to fall about the stage muttering nonsense for about ten minutes. This actually was pretty funny, although for me probably went on for a tad too long before they muttered an almost incomprehensible ditty and disappeared off stage.

In between, Michal Twaits (who was at least as entertaining if not more so than the acts) would keep our enthusiasm levels high, make us laugh and even treat us to a song or two, taking suggestions from the audience. We persuaded him to sing Sweet Transvestite from Rocky Horror even though it went against all his instincts to avoid cliché, and that was a lot of fun, but his musical theatre ‘quartet’ was the best bit. He mashed up Nicki Minaj, Nirvana, Bon Jovi and one other into one of those ‘storyline recaps’ oft used in musicals where each separate character sings their theme song yet they all blend seamlessly into one new song. Know what I mean? No? Well then you probably don’t know musical theatre dahling!

So it was a fun night, and for only £10 you could do a lot worse – there were ten acts, excluding Michael, so a pound an act is not bad value at all. A good way to liven up a Sunday.

Black Cat Cabaret, 20th June

This. Was. Fabulous. And I do not say that lightly. I’ve been wowed and awed by some pretty stupendous acts, especially at the London Wonderground which seems to curate its shows with such care – Limbo and Boom Boom Club. And the Black Cat Cabaret was pretty up near these giddy heights.

I think what sets this show (and others like it) apart from other cabaret revue nights is that there is a story to everything. Each act is its own little vignette. And it’s coupled with a banging soundtrack to keep things sizzling. And of course, there’s a lot of sex to it. Not necessarily in nudity, but in the attitude it exudes.

Dusty limits is a debonair and devilish host as always. His risqué humour was perfect for this show. However, as with other appearances he has made, I do think one song is really the maximum he should be allotted. He’s a great performer but he’s not the best singer in the world.

Unlike the second act Lily la Scala whose voice is tremendous. She portrayed a boozy, libidinous, living doll, managing to wobble in a rigid, artificial way all over the stage and into the audience, while singing opera. This climaxed with, well, a climax for one poor (lucky!) sod in the audience who got to have Lily astride him as her song, and she, peaked.

Before this we had been wowed with an act I hadn’t seen before – Joe Moss did what I would loosely call acrobatics with a giant hoop, turning and twirling it while balanced inside. Hoops made another appearance later on, this time in normal ‘hula’ size. I’ve seen a few hula hoop acts before and they’re always quite fun. Jess Love made this one different by having a whole heap of attitude to her like she found the whole thing a drain on her free time. Oh, we're all clapping now? How very dull. And then she messed up! Oh no! Or did she…??

All the acts were good but one that I found rather stirring was Vicky Butterfly’s performance – it started out with a pretty standard burlesque act of wings, this time lighted, that she wound and wended about her, but then she climbed aboard the moon at the back of the stage and proceeded to ride it as if it was a big seesaw, holding on with ropes to an emotive? soundtrack of the theme to Requiem for a Dream and Edward Scissorhands. Beautiful.

Cabaret rouge were the ‘house’ dance troupe popping up to do quick routines such as an homage to the can can, or a tribue to Degas and his ballerina girls, alluding to what life was really like for an aspiring Parisienne ballerina trying to make ends meet and ending up on the wrong side of a coke addiction. The dancing was fun, funny, outstandingly good, but you couldn't forget its dark undertones.

Tom Baker who crops up at a lot of things (especially It’s Your Funeral) was a part of the band but also did a solo stint, engaging the audience in a singalong, which I have definitely seen him do before but I can’t pinpoint when – maybe at Boom Boom Club. Anyway, it’s a great song about the end of the world, fun to sing and it was no less fun this time.

I also liked the way they messed with gender roles - a love triangle involving a man and two women was danced out with all three parts played by women, and the aerial act was performed by a man and woman - but the man started out in a dress and the woman, in trousers, seduced him.

I enjoyed the night so much I am very tempted to go again as I feel I didn’t even have as good an experience as I could have, had I not spend half the acts writing notes about what each performer was doing for the blog!

Belle Epoque, 16th March

When you go to as many cabaret/burlesque nights as I have done, you do start to wonder if you’ve seen it all. And then you watch performances such as those I witnessed the other week and you realise that those at the top of their game can still wow you.  I think the difference between the artists who entranced us on the 16th (and I’d put those at Boom Boom in this category as well) and other more run-of the-mill acts is the way they have a bit of a story to their act – the way the music that they perform to complements the moves. It’s choreographed, it’s stirring. There’s attitude. These aren’t just circus acts.

The only disappointing thing about the aerial acrobatics at Belle Epoeue was that there wasn’t more of them! Although I suspected the last act would be at around 11 to ensure those wanting to get the last tube could do so without missing anything, I still would have loved for the entire evening to be peppered by them.

Having said that, the rest of the clientele probably wouldn’t have been so happy. Unlike other vintage nights I’ve been to, this one had a decidedly school disco feel to it. It wasn’t just the music being played, it was the lairiness of the crowd; by 11 pm people were raring to concentrate on the cocktails and champagne, rather than the acts. One girl, out for her birthday, fell over while she was seemingly just standing there, some guy dived through the hoop while we were waiting for the act to start. At the end of the night people were copping off with each other like it was Sixth Form revisited! It was slightly surreal – everyone dressed in a variety of styles from burlesque to vintage to lion tamer, yet all most definitely dressed to the nines, getting down to, at one point, gangster rap, and snogging. I wouldn’t have been at all surprised if Gangnam Style had been played at the end, but I’d left at that point.

It’s not that I didn’t like the music. For the most part I thought they were all pretty good party tunes, designed to get people moving on the dance floor and that they did. There were only one or two selections that were a little too cheesy for my taste. But it was definitely very mainstream, which wasn’t what we were expecting. When we arrived they were playing 50s and 60s sounds – Little Richard, The Kinks, Aretha, and we assumed this was the theme for the rest of the night. Even though it probably wasn’t what the Belle Epoque era was soundtracked to, it was at least retro. But they very quickly moved through the decades to the present day – I appreciated the Jamie XX remix of Rolling in the Deep they dropped.  But we wondered where they would go from there.  The answer was, all over the place! 

I rather enjoyed the DJ’s antics – he was almost a caricature of a DJ, his arms waving all over the place as he conducted us on the dance floor from Song 2 to Skeelo and back again through a variety of mashups.

So, the music was what you could find on any highstreet but I would happily return for the aerial acrobatics. There was 'silk rope' work with a couple practically dancing like ballet together through them. 

There was a duo hoop act, portraying an S & M lesbian relationship. The first act used a bungee harness! 

And there was another 'rope' act, only this time using netting which the performer could tangle himself among. 

And the finale were three girls on bars choreographed to perfection.

Dr Sketchy's Anti-Art School, 22nd November

This is a tale of how NOT to do a Dr. Sketchy. 

First of all, if it’s happening at the Royal Vauxhall Tavern, like it did last night, don’t turn up early expecting to have a few drinks beforehand. The RVT as it is often known, is not a regular pub, open all day and hosting the occasional event. It is a venue ONLY open for events. Doors open whenever your event says the doors open, not before. 

Secondly, even if it seems logical to sit at the back because there’s a large group of you and this area will accommodate everyone sitting together, don’t. Even though the RVT isn’t massive, it is big enough for the stage to feel quite far away. Not conducive to getting any facial details down, especially when you've had a few and everything looks a bit fuzzy anyway. Also, there are a few poles dotted around, and from where I was sitting they tended to block out at least a third of our subjects when they were posed. 

Thirdly, take something to lean on! In my head I pictured us all sitting in the round with our subject in the middle, possibly wearing white smocks and berets, and with easels provided. This was a romantic notion purely based on sitcoms I have watched where a character takes an art class. In reality, it’s taking place in a pub, where there are lots of you and no room for easels. You are provided with some paper, some drawing materials and that’s it. Actually, there were a few boards available, but not enough for everyone. 

Fourthly, don’t pick a hard-leaded pencil. Soft leads or chalk are much more forgiving and instantly make your works of art look much more like works of art. Smudges look professional and it is much easier to shade in large areas. I had an HB which, when Dusty was going around assessing our works, barely showed up in the dimly lit room. Not good. 

Fifthly, probably better to drink more early on, than having a few throughout and then at the end practically downing two mini bottles of wine. That’s a good rule for a night out in general I find. 

If you get these things right then you can just sit back, relax and enjoy the show. Or rather, sit up, pay attention, get drawing and enjoy the show. For there is a bit of a show element. Your host for the evening is Dusty Limits, a man whose reputation precedes him, in my case anyway, as I am always seeing his name mentioned in conjunction with cabaret nights and burlesque. He actually directed the phenomenal Prospero's Tavern that I saw by the Boom Boom Club. He is a consummate host and more than a little pleasing on the eye as you can see from my uncanny likeness of him here. 

He starts things off by getting people ‘warmed up’ for drawing and explains that it’s not about ability, it’s about doing things your way. We have a scribble to get out any aggression and to just break the daunting first time you put pencil to blank paper. Then there’s an exercise where you have to draw without looking at the paper (see above for how well this comes out). Then the first subject comes on. But she doesn’t just come on and assume a pose. She does a bit of an act first, in the guise, in this instance, of a mega-Rolf Harris fan (although, who isn’t one really - Jake The Peg - classic!), which involved a parody of “Part of Your World” from the Little Mermaid. It culminated in her stripping of her anorak and Rolf Harris t-shirt to reveal two little Rolf-heads covering her nips. She wasn’t the best singer in the world, but she’s got good comedy timing, the song was funny and it’s always nice to see some tits. 

Then it’s time to draw – first two minutes getting a feel for her (FOR her, not OF her). Then a different pose, and a “theme” to encompass into the drawing. This time “wind storm”. Then another five minute drawing, which I liked the most, where you start drawing Frankie von Flirter, our muse, and then Dusty starts telling you things you need to add to your scene – like killer bees, turning the setting into a jazz/poetry night, a tyrannosaurs rex is attacking her! And then she has to contend with Hilary Clinton! Sadly I seem to have misplaced most of my drawings from the night so I can't share the masterpiece I created with this scene. I may not have won any chocolate coins or tiny snowmen but I was still proud of it.

You see, what I didn’t realise before I went was that there is an element of competition involved. After every round Dusty comes over and judges you, sorry, I mean judges your composition and you may get a reward if you’re sufficiently good, or sufficiently atrocious. I like to think I’m somewhere in the middle and this is probably why I got bubkus the whole night. At the end of the evening you can submit your best/worst work for a chance to win a grand prize, which I think was some sweets and maybe, a diary. Big prizes folks!

There wasn't just Frankie, there was a little eye-candy for the girls (and guys of a certain persuasion) apart from the luscious Dusty. For the second act we had a model who was dressed as a sailor. This guy was a little hard to draw as he kept moving around. That's my excuse for the below, anyway.

Also, he didn't get one single piece of kit off, despite us loudly hinting that he should. Disappointing. But Dusty promised that there would be some man stripping in the next half. We waited eagerly.

After another round of drinks out came a man-pilot strutting to Highway to the Danger Zone! But... wait a minute. "He" looks a little slight and his mustache isn't convincing. No, it's miss Frankie again! She does another striptease, this time to "Take my Breasts Away", and very funny it is again too so despite my dismay at not seeing any man-abs, I'm enjoying it anyway.

Dr Sketchy is a really fun night. I would strongly encourage drinking, as does Dusty, and not worrying about how well you can draw. Of course, if you do have talent then it is still going along because drawing is the name of the game for this night. They just don't let it detract or spoil the fun. 

La Reve, 10th August

I think I have burnt my bridges with Cafe De Paris. And it was all going so well...

Well, actually it wasn't. La Reve at the Cafe de Paris wasn't the most successful night. We arrived at the venue just a little after 8:30, when the show starts. The lady compere was just in the middle of a song from Chicago as we were shown to our seats. All the tables in the centre where people were also eating with their cabaret were taken but there were plenty of free booths and seats around the side and on the upper section. Cocktail menus were on the table and I took a sharp breath in when I saw the prices - £11 or £12 for some pretty standard cocktails. I don’t mind paying a little extra when I’m being served, say chocolate soil on the side, or a detonated balloon, but for a normal mai tai, that seemed a bit much. Instead, Stephen and I shared the cheapest bottle of red wine for £21, which was no great shakes either. Even Stephen, who is no wine connoisseur (not yet anyway) said he could tell this was of poor quality. 

There were three acts before the break – a strange take on a burlesque striptease from a woman who did a Flashdance-inspired striptease. There was a guy who showed quite an amazing aptitude for balancing which we were impressed by, but the best performers of the first half were a comedy duo I had already seen called Ginger and Black. She’s ginger, he’s black. They do silly songs that can take on an incredibly dark tone. I found them just as funny as the first time I saw them, though wasn’t convinced this was the best showcase for them and wasn’t sure if the rest of the audience really appreciated them.

There was then a short break for refreshments, and the compere came on again and did another song. We were then treated to a magic/comedy/mime act which was faintly amusing. I did quite enjoy the joke about answering a dating ad to find it had been placed by a goose (single, white female). Then there was the act all those looking for some titialltion had come to see – a proper burlesque striptease complete with feather boa and wildly rotating nipple tassels.

The finale was a masculine take on rope work. It was nice to see a guy doing this for a change, and he used chains to climb and wrap around himself instead of ropes. I think this must be considered quite a show-stopping feat in the cabaret world as the Boom Boom Club finished on a rope act as well. And while it is impressive, I think ending on a striptease or something like that is more spectacular.

Individually we knew that the performers were talented, but unfortunately the show as a whole left most of us, who had been at Prospero’s Tavern the week before, underwhelmed. The set up for a start wasn’t great as the acts felt very far removed from us, unlike at the Wonderground where they were in the midst of everyone. You felt like you could have easily ignored what was going on – it didn’t impose its presence like it should. Perhaps this is a shortcoming of the venue rather than the show being put on. Also, it didn’t feel like a complete show – it was just individual act after individual act, with nothing but the compere introducing them. We missed the theatre of the Boom Boom Club.

On the upside, the interior of Cafe de Paris was splendid. I don't mean that in a 'this is jolly good, rather' kind of way, I mean it as pertaining to having splendour. I had never even noticed it before but I would have passed it countless times as it is just by Leicester Square. Part of the reason I wanted to come was for the venue itself – it has a history of putting on cabaret and the like since its inception. So, it was nice to have been a little part of its history. 

We were told toward the end of the show that we would have to vacate our table when the show was over. Our tickets include entry to the ‘after party’ but evidently this doesn't mean you can keep the table you’re on. Our had been reserved for the after show and we were pretty promptly kicked off it when the show finished, even though whoever had reserved it didn’t turn up the whole time we were there. This marked the transformation of this place from a pleasant burlesque soiree to a hideous typical West End club.  It felt like a travesty to put such a gorgeous, quirky (it is modeled on the Titanic) venue to such use. We expected the after party to somewhat match the show in tone and music but no, all pretence at being cabaret was gone and instead the place was full of commercial electropop and RnB. To be fair, I don’t mind this kind of music after having a few drinks but it’s not at all what we were expecting given the show and once the place started to fill up with young, skinny girls in 4 inch heels and white, backless dresses, we knew it was time to leave.

We went to collect Stephen’s bag but unfortunately he had lost his ticket. I find cloakroom attendants to be generally surly and begrudging at the best of times but the lady at this one took it to another level. I know it must be annoying when people lose their tickets, but when the club has barely opened, and two reasonably, not inebriated people are doing their best to help you try to find it, is there really any need for any attitude? I think no, but she clearly thought otherwise. I helpfully managed to dreg out from the recesses of my memory the ticket number, only to be told that ticket number didn’t exist. When the bag was finally found, lo and behold! The ticket number managed the one I had told her. Obviously not wishing to lose face, she tried to insist that wasn’t what I had said at all in the first place. She was very unpleasant and I may have told her so in no uncertain terms, which is why I don't think I'd better go back there. Luckily, I have no intention of doing so. Having already had sinking estimations of the place, that was the final nail in the coffin. Given their location and renown I’m sure they don’t have to bother with good customer service and see a steady stream of tourists and young girls who don’t know any better. I won't be joining them again.

Boom Boom Club, 2nd August

I was incredibly impressed with the Wonderground setup in general. I expected something a lot flimsier. The show was held in the spiegeltent, which looked like a big red top once inside, with a stage at the back, and a bit of a catwalk leading to a circular stage at the front where the performers did their stuff. We ended up sitting beside the catwalk – I had faith that they wouldn’t have an in-the-round setup if they weren’t good at performing in the round, and on the whole they were, but I think sitting facing the stage probably would have been a tad better. Some of the performers, such as Pirate Phil (an ex-banker who had seen the light and told us about it in song) and the kitty cat – a striptease artist, did roam the audience somewhat, but being nearer the stage and at the front, all in all was beneficial.

The show is very polished, the performers are top class. It’s visually impressive with some great costumes – and it’s sexy. Unfortunately no photography was allowed so you have to go see it yourself to see what I mean.

There was a very loose backstory which tied the acts together and also gave their actions some purpose. The night was called Prospero’s Tavern and the people who came on stage were either regulars of the Tavern or connected to Prospero (of the Tempest fame) in some way. For example, Miranda, his daughter, who was ‘drunkenly’ heckling Prospero for the first half of the act, was allowed to come on stage and ‘embarrass herself’.  And of course, being intoxicated, she was stumbling and falling all over the place, the perfect ruse to allow her to twist and turn herself inside out, for she was in fact a contortionist. Or when a quarrel broke out between two sailors who incorporated their acrobatics into their choreographed fight. They deftly swore at and punched each other in between somersaults and some very impressive balancing acts. 

There were a couple of amusing songs and even a singalong at one point. The hour went by far too quickly. I could really see why the Boom Boom Club has the reputation it does and I imagine most other acts I will see of this ilk will pale in comparison. Certainly those I’ve seen before so far do not even hold a candle to this. I am going to La Reve next week though, who have been going for quite some time and also have a very good reputation so we shall see how they compare.

One of the highlights for me was ‘The King’ hula hooping to some of his greatest hits. This doesn’t sound like much but I was transfixed by what this tubby little guy dressed a bit like Elvis could do with a hoop. Did I say ‘a’ hoop? I mean several hoops at the same time, even manipulating them to start at his waist and then travel off in different directions. His finale was to hoop with upwards of 20 all at once! He looked like a giant slinky. I fear I am not doing this act justice but it was jaw dropping.

I was also completely seduced by the woman who performed one of the burlesque stripteases. Or, rather, I should say, the woman who was stripped and molested by the possessed hand that tormented her. I think this probably needs explanation. Through a clever fake appendage, she made it look like her hand was a severed malevolent being (like an evil version of Thing from the Addams Family) which was attacking her – first it was being a bit of a sex pest, groping her here and there, then it took an even more sinister turn, choking her to the ground and then reviving her with a tickle to her nether regions. It was funny, creepy, weirdly convincing, and she was utterly gorgeous.

After the show is over, you are all invited to clear out so they can move the chairs away, and then you’re called back in for the ‘after party’ should you wish to stay. This only happens after the Thursday, Friday and Saturday performances and is an extra £5. It might be very different on a Friday or Saturday when people don’t have work to think about the next day, but the majority of the audience last night did not return for the afterparty and the atmosphere was muted. Most of my group wanted to stick around though - after all, we had paid the extra and we were promised live music and two more performers who hadn’t been in the show. We danced around a bit to the music, even though few others did, watched the other two performers (a fire hula-hooper, and a girl doing swinging hoop acrobatics) and stayed until the last song. Overall though, I wouldn’t say you should feel hard done by if you happen to go on a night when the afterparty isn’t an option.

If you like this kind of stuff, you will love the Boom Boom Club. And if you don’t, you should still go – this might change your mind. Brilliant. 

Antichrist, 29th June

Chances are that you may have heard of Torture Garden, one of the longest-running, biggest alternative/fetish nights in England. They're so 'overground' these days that there are three full pages dedicated to the night in Time Out's 1000 Things to do in London. But you may not have heard of Antichrist. And you should, if you're into that kind of thing.

One question you tend to get asked when you chat to people in Antichrist is 'Are you here for the Goth or the Kink?' The other question you get asked is 'Have you been to Torture Garden?' Torture Garden seemed to polarise opinion among the Antichrist clubbers. I am theorising here, but it seemed if you were mostly at Antichrist for 'the Goth' then you had a lower opinion of TG because you don't like their music, but if you were at Antichrist for 'the Kink' then you enthused about TG because it has all the kink but better tunes. And this may be why Torture Garden is so well known compared to Antichrist. TG apparently plays a mix of music from electro to pop mash ups (I will confirm once I've been) but Antichrist is a lot more 'Rock'.  However, Antichrist is a little more relaxed when it comes to dress code apparently. They don't want you wearing ordinary daywear but as long as you've made a bit of an effort (black jeans, black gig t-shirt) you don't have to worry about being turned away. TG is supposedly more strict. Naturally, I made an effort because I need no encouraging, and with this kind of crowd, you knew most people would. I would say, that, once inside, you would be more likely to feel self-conscious if you didn't have your butt cheeks showing or a dildo somewhere on your costume. Unfortunately, no photography is allowed in there so I can’t show you what weird and wonderful things people were wearing.

So. Antichrist happens six times a year at Club Collosseum. We went for their 8th birthday party and we were promised 7 main areas, plus a few little ones - one was the Theatre of Sin where there were live acts and then 'metal' until 6 am, one was an Industrial dance room and one was a goth/alt dance area. Then there was a chillout bar area, a smoking area, a couples' dark room and the devil's playroom or dungeon.

We got there at around 11 so that we could see most of the acts in the Theatre of Sin, which started at 10. To be frank, this was not worth making the effort for. We missed the first two acts but were in time to see a live band, supposedly a mix of electronica and drums and guitars. It didn't hold our attention and we used the opportunity to wander around and get familiar with the club as we'd never been to the Collosseum or Antichrist before. After a very long hour of the same band, we came back to catch the magician. Someone I was with had seen him before and said that he could be very 'meh' until all of a sudden he did something and you were like 'whoa'. We watched and waited but 'meh' was the order of the day for us. Then we came back for the strippers. A lot of people had been eagerly anticipating this part  - it was obvious because when we came in as it was very crowded - too many people for me to see past given my short stature (even though I was in some killer heels). So I can't really pass judgment on them but Stephen wasn't all that impressed. At this point we more or less gave up on the Theatre, even though there was only one act to go and went to the chillout area where there was free cake in honour of the birthday, and to have a few more drinks.

You might be wondering what my answer was when people asked me whether I was there for the Goth or the Kink. Well, for me, it was a little of both. I had imagined that we would end up spending most of our night in the Pretty Fucking Industrial dance room as I thought it would be playing quite dark, clangy metallic-sounding dance music (like Closer by NIN). But that room turned out to be a total disappointment as the music was more like (to my ears) hard house. This may just show I know nothing about music genres. Having said that, I am not completely averse to a bit of rock/metal. In fact, my late teens, when I was beginning to get into music, were spent at a few different ‘rock’ nights (none too aggressive, being as I lived in rural Suffolk at the time) and my favourite club at Uni was a place called Spiders; where we would all dress up in black, get drunk on vodka for 50p or Pan Galactic Gargleblasters for £2.00 and jump around to Marilyn Manson and Crazytown. But for some reason I didn’t expect this kind of thing at Antichrist – I thought my taste would be too tame, that when the Theatre of Sin turned into a rock and metal dance floor, I’d probably like one song, but wouldn’t want to spend much time there. I couldn’t have been more wrong. It was amazing! It was like a playlist of all my favourite rock songs, as if I was transported instantly back to being 20 and in Spiders. It was in this room that they played Closer, plus System of a Down, plus Slipknot’s Wait and Bleed, plus Beautiful People, plus Korn. The list goes on. There wasn’t a mosh pit, so no getting trampled on, but plenty of room to let your hair down (literally) and jump around and head bang away, which I did to my heart’s delight. Fantastic.

So it turned out I was definitely there for the Goth, whether that had been my original intention or not. But I was also curious about the other side, and felt that, if for nothing than journalistic integrity, I had to see everything Antichrist had to offer. Downstairs in the Industrial room was a man, rolled up in carpet daubed with a plea to the Ladies to stand on him. I duly obliged. And upstairs in the Theatre was a dom lady, using her submissive man as a bench from which to watch the acts. But I knew this couldn't be as kinky as it got. It was time to visit the Devil's playroom. Inside there is an area within where people who want to get involved can do so, and then an area where you can sit and watch. We sat and watched people getting trussed up in all sorts of positions, and flogged and whipped, in various states of undress. And then we took a trip into the couples' darkroom, which, by the way, is a total misnomer. Instead of shadowy figures moving in the dark by which you might be able to hazard a guess as to what they were getting up to, it was pretty bright in there and no guesswork was required at all.  So it seems it would be well suited to the voyeur or to exhibitionists craving to be watched. However, it is a couple's room, which means the people in there are (in general) busy doing stuff with each other, attentive to each other, not watching what everyone else is doing. Any kick out of voyeurism is therefore more imagined than real. And it was pretty busy in there with people getting up to all sorts. Mostly there are chairs and sofas to relax or get frisky on, but there is also one medical chair complete with fastenable stirrups. And yes, it did get used during the night. Did I participate in this room I hear you ask? Well, I couldn't possibly say! (Am I keeping quiet to give you the impression I did when I didn't, or because I did and I don't want to admit it? YOU DECIDE!)

I will disclose that towards the end of the evening/early morning we went back to the dungeon to see if it was even still going. And it was, but the numbers were far reduced. Some guy who seemed to be getting electric shocks passed over him with something that looked like a miniature plastic garden fork, caught my eye and I went in for a closer look. The guy doing the 'electrocuting' beckoned me in and told me to hold a silver bar. Then he ushered Stephen over and told us to touch tongues. The tiniest of currents passed through us, tickling our tongues and making us giggle a little in shock. It was an intriguing and not at all unpleasant sensation. This machine was called a violet wand and came with all sorts of attachments. I wasn’t brave enough to have a go with the ‘garden fork’ but I did let him run one of the attachments over me and it felt pretty good! Not good enough for me to spend £900 on acquiring such an instrument, but it was pretty good having a go with one for free!

I had a whale of a time at Antichrist. I’ve always known that alternative/goths are some of the nicest and friendliest people you can ever meet, no matter how much rubber they have on and Antichrist just furthered my beliefs. Everyone was there to have a good time, in whatever form that meant to them. People were drinking, but no one was crazy-ass drunk. There was a really good atmosphere, and by the end of the night, everything felt so natural, nothing could surprise me. Coming back to work today has felt a bit like entering an alternative reality. I miss Antichrist!

Lucha Britannia, 18th May

Remember that Jack Black movie Nacho Libre? No, I don’t blame you if you don’t. I sadly am familiar with it having been on a date so bad that it made the movie seem pretty good in comparison, but that’s another story. But it did mean that when my friend Sophie suggested we go to see some Mexican Wrestling, I knew what she was on about.

Mexican wrestling is called Lucha Libre, and mexican wrestling in Bethnal Green is called Lucha Britannia. Other than knowing there would be a lot of men throwing each other around while wearing brightly coloured masks, I wasn’t really sure what a British version of Mexican wrestling would be like, and it probably in some ways didn’t help that my only frame of reference for the real deal was a Jack Black movie. But Sophie had been once already and said it was really good fun, the only downside being that before the end of the night all the ‘fun drinks’ (sambuca, tequila) had run out.

After a quick drink in the Camel down the road (lovely pub - only sells pies) we went over to the Resistance Gallery (how aptly named) to be sure we got good positions ringside. The place was getting pretty busy by the time we got there at 9:30 (doors opened at 9) and I’m sure the event was a sell out. The compere, dressed devilishly in black with a macabre white face, red lips and black eyeliner, kicked off the night, introducing us to the referee who looked like a fearsome wrestler himself, his co-commentator (who was similar to the McMahon WWF character – no one liked him and his overly Republican views) and then of course the first wrestlers to take the stage. It was a tag team between The Fabulous Bakewell Brothers in tweeds and braces, and two others whose names I can’t remember (probably because they were the ‘bad guys’ for this round and lost, and I was too taken up with yelling the catchphrase ‘How Doooooo’ every time one of the Bakewell Brothers executed a move and finished it off with a knee-bend-braces-pull signature manoeuvre).

There were more wrestlers than I can even remember, and round after round after round. There were one or two moments where I started to wonder how long the wrestling was going to go on for so that I could turn my full attention to drinking, but these were rare; as soon as I had but thought it, some new twist would occur to bring my attention squarely back to the ring. For example, when Los Hooligans came out, costumed in the finest football thug/nationalistic attire and apparently there were no wrestlers willing to fight them. A plea went out to the audience – are there none among you who will take these reprobates on? And then, from the back of the crowd came the little barman who had served me earlier being lifted towards the front and into the ring. A wrestling mate for him was found and they proceeded to kick ass on Los Hooligans. 

Or, later in the evening when there was an every man for himself round with up to six different wrestlers battling it out. All the characters are, well, absolute characters – risque or irreverent or just silly. One of the luchadores was Transexio the cross dresser and another was Estupido dressed in poncho and sombrero. He was a villain, and his name meant that the crowd could gleefully heckle him with shouts of ‘Pido! ‘Pido! 

To prevent wrestling fatigue setting in they also break up the night with a couple of burlesque interludes, the best one being the first one. I don’t know the performers name but she was a formidable lady who came into the ring in basque and tiny, tiny knickers. She then proceeded to light candles and drip hot wax all over her ever increasingly naked body. At the end she poured hot wax right into her mouth like some kind of candle moneyshot and spat out the cold wax onto everyone in the front row. I’m happy to report I was fully wax-jizzed over and had to pick the wax out of my afro-curly hair (knew I should’ve straightened it).

The wrestling finished around 1 am and a lot of people left at that point. As predicted, the bar had run out of sambuca and vodka by then, though my friend and I had made arrangements to counter this potentiality. We stayed until the bar shut, while they packed up the ring and some of the wrestlers mingled with the crowd. There were definitely some Lucha fanatics there and apparently, for those who really love it, they host a Lucha wrestling school at the venue on Saturdays for those who want to learn the craft. 

It’s £15 which isn’t cheap, but then again is pretty standard for a club event, which this sort of is and it was one of the most unique nights I have been to since I started seeking out alternative nightlife. It was utterly preposterous, and despite it’s naughty names and whotnot was really just some innocent good ole-fashioned fun.