Category: Arts & Theatre

The Palladium of Drag

I recently stumbled upon this delicious titbit – pun intended – on Faceache about drag life at the Royal Vauxhall Tavern way back in the sixties. Click the image to see the clip.

One of my old witterings from 2015 came flooding back. At the time I wrote:

“I’m sure I’ve been here before.” So said my mother after she took a sip of her brandy and coke and looked around the large smoke-filled room. It was 1980 and I was stepping out with Bernie, a salesman from Somerset. We were treating my mother to a night of slap, sequins and perversion at the Royal Vauxhall Tavern, South London’s premier drag pub. As it turned out, her feelings of déjà vu were spot on. In the swinging sixties, she and my soldier dad had slipped out from the barracks on the other side of the river to catch an act or two.

Déjà Vu, 21/09/15

My own debut at the infamous cabaret venue was in the late seventies before the interior had a radical facelift and the curved bar running down the middle was ripped out. As you can see from the footage of the terrible turn miming badly to a 1969 Clodagh Rodger’s smash, it was used as a catwalk by the jocks in frocks to preen, prance and mince up and down. Happy-clappy punters would rescue their pints before they were high-kicked into the crowd by an unguided stiletto. And, after one too many sherries in the dressing-up cupboard, the act might trip over their heels and do an impromptu stage dive.

Since then, much of old Vauxhall has been tarted up in glass and steel and the boozer itself was at serious risk of being replaced by yet more fancy flats. That was until Historic England stepped in and listed (ie protected) the building because…

…the building has historic and cultural significance as one of the best known and longstanding LGBT venues…

And, I’m glad to report that the RVT, as it’s now known, is still going strong with the slap, sequins and perversion.

Image Courtesy of RVT on Facebook

The Faceache footage from the RVT’s page was itself lifted from an old TV documentary called ‘What’s a Girl Like You…’ at the British Film Institute Archive – the world’s largest. The broadcast was billed as a “scintillating look at the 1960s drag renaissance” and named the venue the “palladium of drag”. It’s well worth a look. Click the image to find out more*.

*People outside the UK may not be able to view the the documentary. It’s a broadcasting rights thing, I guess!

The Ferrow Brothers

Another remarkable little gem lifted from the Queer Norfolk Archive at Norwich’s Millennium Library is the astonishing story of the Ferrow sisters of Great Yarmouth who became the Ferrow brothers. Census records reveal they were born in 1922 and 1924, registered originally as Marjorie and Daisy and then re-registered as Mark and David. Mark medically transitioned in 1939 at 17 and David a year later – both with full parental support. “Though we have been girls, we have both felt men at heart,” Mark said at the time.

Their story received quite a lot of press coverage, including this piece in the Daily Herald.  

Remarkably, in stark contrast to today’s polarised and often spiteful debate, the coverage was largely positive or, at least, neutral, perhaps because there were much bigger things to fret about, like a looming world war and an existential threat. In fact, Mark did his bit during the blackout and received a commendation for bravery in civil defence – because heroes come in many colours.

Mark also became an artist of distinction. His painting of former England cricket captain, David Gower, was hung in the National Portrait Gallery.

Image credit: Leicestershire County Cricket Club

David Ferrow followed in his father’s footsteps as a Great Yarmouth bookseller and went on to marry. He was well-known and well-liked around town; a bit of a local icon.

Mark died in 1991 and David in 2006. As I said, astonishing.

Cue YouTube…

He’s Behind You – Again

This year’s winter has been more or less the usual tedious diet of dull and damp. So what better way to blow away the blues and lift the spirits than a festive pantomime, cross-dressed in glamour and glitter, sequins and smut? This year, we’ve rather overdosed on the panto lark with three – yes three – shows. First up was our annual pilgrimage to the daddy of all pantos at the London Palladium. The latest star-studded camp-fest was Sleeping Beauty, fronted, as usual, by the dowager queen of the double entendre, Julian Clary. As expected, the Palladium’s (and Julian’s) 10th anniversary show was lavish, lewd, and with a plot as thin as a Christmas twig. It was fabulous.

The magic continued with a thoroughly village affair – Cinderella, from the local Loddon Players in their 50th anniversary year. Fun and frolicky with talented turns, foot-tapping tunes and dazzling drag, it was the perfect antidote to the drizzle outside. It’s great to see community theatre flourishing in our small corner of the world.

Finally, panto season came to an X-rated close with the uber rude One Eyed Willy from the Adult Panto Company. The leave-the-kids-at-home show was a no-holes-barred (literally) belly-laugh romp bringing a ripe meaning to that time-worn panto phrase ‘he’s behind you’. Total filth, and we can’t wait for next year’s saucy spectacle.

Glitter, Glamour and the Glums

Our yuletide revelry was crowned with a trip to the Great Yarmouth Hippodrome, Britain’s last remaining circus building, for their ‘Christmas Circus and Water Spectacular’. And spectacular it was too, with gravity-defying flying acrobats, trapeze artists spinning around a giant hoop without a safety net for comfort, and a grand finale of Busby Berkeley babes bringing the show to a fantastic watery close.

The show was followed by a mini pub crawl with our fellow festive revellers. We managed to down a few sherries in Yarmouth’s best dive bars, including one partially boarded-up establishment where we were offered a couple of knock-off air fryers. I was almost tempted.

Our final pit stop was the Blackfriars Tavern with its bewildering range of award-winning real ales and ciders. As CAMRA’s* National Cider Pub of the Year 2025, we had high hopes of a warm welcome on a chilly day. But, instead, we got the cold shoulder from the miserable landlord and his missus. I’ll leave it to a recent one-star review to tell it as it is.

“Very unwelcoming staff with a strong whiff of arrogance. Thank you for making us feel not worthy of treading the same carpet as you.”

The beer mat sums it up too. The po-faced pint pullers can be as rude as they like, but punters must remain saintly at all times. So before anyone could say ‘bugger off’, we buggered off.

*Campaign for Real Ale.

Art for Art’s Sake

“Grab your man bag,” Liam said. “We’re off to Sainsbury’s.” It wasn’t a pint of semi-skimmed and a sourdough loaf on his mind but something altogether more highbrow – the Sainsbury Centre for Visual Arts.

The museum was opened in 1978 to show off the art collection donated to the University of East Anglia by Sir Robert and Lady Lisa Sainsbury (of the Sainsbury’s supermarket chain). Robert was made a knight of the realm for his services to the arts, not for the quality of his Jersey royals or his juicy plums.

The impressive Norman Foster-designed building sits within the leafy university grounds and houses an eclectic miscellany of paintings and sculptures spanning 5,000 years, with artefacts from prehistory right through to the late 20th century. As you meander through the exhibits, there seems to be a particular obsession with the human form.

Lady Lisa and Sir Robert Sainsbury

The building itself was put on display in several scenes from the 2015 films Avengers: Age of Ultron and Ant-Man.

And continuing the movie theme, we weren’t expecting to witness a half-baked Lord of the Rings re-enactment as we sank a bottle of plonk in the museum refectory. How times have changed. In my day, students misspent their days getting pissed in the Students’ Union bar, not mucking about in Middle-earth. Or to paraphrase Gandalf: “You shall not pass out.”

Shrek – Everyone’s Pet Ogre

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. Drama and performance can really help young minds build important life skills. But make no mistake, it takes guts and gumption to strut your stuff on stage in front of a bunch of strangers.

Hobart High School have a proud history of giving us the old razzle dazzle with a feast of young talent. This year’s offering – Shrek, the Musical, a fantastic tale of love conquering all from a kingdom far, far away – was up there with the best of ’em. How apt it was that we saw it on Valentine’s Day.

We knew some of the young cast. Jas and Benny were splendid. And a very special mention must go to Rory in the title role. He strutted his stuff with huge confidence, enthusiasm and the most convincing Scottish accent this side of Dundee. Well done, Rory.

Singin’ in the Rain – Making a Splash

Neither I nor him indoors are that keen on classic Hollywood-style musicals. We tend to go for something a bit more contemporary. But when we saw the all-round talent that is Alex Green taking centre-stage as the poster boy for Singin’ in the Rain, one of MGM’s most iconic musicals, we thought, why not?

The Norfolk and Norwich Operatic Society chose the musical for their centenary production, and the run at Norwich’s Theatre Royal was more or less sold out. As is our habit, we chose a matinee and joined our fellow grey tops on their day out. I’ve never seen the entire film, just the more famous dance highlights, so I wasn’t familiar with the story. What I did know is that famous Hollywood hoofer Gene Kelly was horribly mean to his co-star, the late, great Debbie Reynolds, who was only 19 at the time and new to the dancing lark. Kelly bullied her until her feet bled. It’s the stuff of Hollywood legend.

Getting the gist of the story wasn’t helped by the punter sitting in front of me, with the biggest head since King Kong fell for Fay Wray. I missed most of the action stage left. So much so that Liam and I swapped seats for Act Two – him being taller. A stiff drink got me through it.

What I did see was terrific. Alex Green was joined by an equally gifted cast who really gave us the old razzle dazzle in spectacular style. The famous Singin’ in the Rain sequence was particularly impressive, with Alex Green in the Gene Kelly role splashing across the front of the stage as water showered from above. He got soaked. The front few rows got a bit wet too – I’m guessing the punters were pre-warned.

We also loved the reprise featuring a funkier version – both in song and dance – of the Singin’ in the Rain number by the full ensemble. A great modern touch.

Image courtesy of the NNOS Facebook page

And I’m pleased to write that, in the end, King Kong didn’t spoil the show.

Top of the Pansy Pops 2024

The 2024 top of the crop had a distinctly thespian theme – gays and the arts. Could it be any more of a cliché? Or maybe it just reflects a need for a distraction in worrying times. Who knows? Also thrown into the mix were celebrating the life of a dearly departed, a fond memory from our lotus-eating days in Turkey, and a few Greek postcards from gorgeous old Corfu Town. Oh, and then there was the little piece about my money-making side hustle as an Only Fans porn star. If only.

For some inexplicable reason, a 2020 post about a game old bird fit for the pot waddling around our modest small holding took off. Why? It’s a mystery.

Also, numbers-wise, Perking the Pansies enjoyed the best year since 2016, so there’s still life in the old blog yet. I thank you.

Happy New Year. Let’s hope for a lot more peace for 2025.

Perky Daffodils

Ringed by wonky tombstones, our pretty village church sits on top of a small hill. Called ‘All Saints’ – to cover all the holy bases – the unassuming little building is an eclectic blend of eras – Norman, Georgian, Victorian and modern. The Norman bell tower features a rare folksy thatched roof, and the east…

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The Palladium of Drag

I recently stumbled upon this delicious titbit – pun intended – on Faceache about drag life at the Royal Vauxhall Tavern way back in the sixties. Click the image to see the clip. One of my old witterings from 2015 came flooding back. At the time I wrote: “I’m sure I’ve been here before.” So…

Jack Scott's avatar by Jack Scott

A Load of Bowls

The sedate game of bowls has ancient roots going way back to the time of the pharaohs. Nowadays, the Brit variety is traditionally associated with carefully manicured greens, well-versed etiquette and the grey herd in their virgin white togs. But in recent years, this most genteel of sports has attracted fresher blood, none more so…

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Pantos and Parties

Storm Darragh barrelling across angry skies couldn’t keep us from our annual panto and party pre-Christmas pilgrimage to The Smoke. The London Palladium pantomime this year is Robin Hood, starring the outrageous queen of high and low camp, Julian Clary, and his usual cast of merrie men and women. The vocal act is Jane McDonald – every pensioner’s favourite cruise-line crooner – as Maid Marion. And the likely lass from Yorkshire can really belt out a tune. Lavish, filthy and with a plot as flimsy as a Christmas twig, the show is a belly-laugh sacrament that’s become a firm festive fixture for these two village people.

The gusty winds and horizontal rain drove us into various watering holes to dry off and warm up. Everywhere was rammed. But even these two old merry men don’t drink before midday, so we spent one morning wandering around the splendid Museum of Science, one of the holy trinity of world-class museums along Exhibition Road in South Kensington – the V&A and the Natural History Museum being the other two must-sees. Like the pubs, the various galleries were rammed, not with dripping trippers but with wide-eyed kiddies in backpacks and waterproofs. It’s a fascinating place to spend a few hours, whatever the weather.

We also had the good fortune to catch up with family for much-missed hot gossip and to meet the latest editions to the clan – twin girls. And gorgeous they are too! It made these two old festive fairies very proud great uncles.

The Devil Wears Prada

Picture it. October, London, Liam’s birthday and the much-anticipated new Elton John stage musical, The Devil Wears Prada, based on the acclaimed 2006 film. So imagine our disappointment to discover, quite by chance, that the performance we were due to see had been cancelled – no notice, no explanation. We contacted the Dominion Theatre Box Office to establish what was what. They said they’d emailed. Well, sweet Fanny Adams received this end – zero, zilch, zip, nada, nothing, nowt. Lost in cyberspace or so it seems. Or was it? A first-world problem, I know, but annoying nonetheless. We could have arrived at the theatre to find it ‘dark’, as they say in the trade. Many happy returns.

Anyway, once prompted, the theatre refunded the cost of our tickets and we booked to see Moulin Rouge instead. Because we can-can!