It’s great to see that the latest Amazon ad for the new Kindle Paperwhite is LGBT inclusive. Now all Amazon has to do is pay fair taxes in the countries in which it trades (oh, and not keep me waiting until I reach a threshold of sales from Amazon.com before sending me a cheque in dollars that I have to pay a fat fee to cash). After all, someone has to pay for the roads used by their delivery vans and the health and education of their employees. I could go on but you get my drift.
Gareth Thomas, Dancing on Ice Drama
Former Welsh international, Gareth Thomas, demonstrated that he’s just as nifty on ice as he is on the rugby field. The man mountain with more muscles than Atlas proved that big doesn’t mean clumsy as he lifted and glided with elegance and flair. It’s enough to make a boy go weak at the knees. Even though gorgeous Gareth had to drop out of the competition due to ill health, the boy from the Valleys did well, very well. Get well soon, Gareth.
Now the Welsh beefcake has hung up his sequins and skates, he’s got time to catch up on his reading. And guess what he’s reading?
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Nine to Five
Despite a head cold that had me supping on the gin and Lemsip, Liam managed to get me to Dolly Parton’s ‘9 to 5’ at the Theatre Royal, Norwich. Adapted from the 1980 movie comedy starring Dolly, Lily Tomlin and Jane Fonda, ‘9 to 5’ is a high-energy musical farce about three overworked and overlooked female office workers exacting delicious revenge on their lazy, lecherous, sexist, misogynistic boss. We had terrific seats for a terrific show with some terrific tunes and terrific lines (“You’re just a typewriter with tits.”). Amy Lennox* was uncanny in the Dolly role. If you closed your eyes, you’d think it was the chesty chanteuse on stage. Natalie Casey as Jane Fonda was superb with sharp comic timing and a tremendous voice. Slightly more disappointing was Jackie Clune in the Lily Tomlin part; a few more dance lessons might help. Veteran trouper, Bonnie Langford, almost stole the show in her supporting role as the boss’s fawning assistant. Bonnie can throw her legs higher and wider than anyone I’ve ever seen on stage, screen or porn flick. The gorgeous Dolly has quite a following among the gay fraternity and the audience was liberally sprinkled with fairy dust, including the man next to me whose shocking hair don’t would have him run out of Soho. Dolly herself appeared as narrator on a large clock-faced screen above the stage. Saying “thank you” to Norwich was a nice touch and Dolly brought the house down when she launched into the familiar ‘9 to 5’ theme at the end.
*We saw the talented Amy Lennox in ‘Soho Cinders’ last summer and she was superb in that too.
Plumber’s Bum
In their utilitarian wisdom, the local water company decided to replace our meter. Apparently, the old device was knackered and belonged in the Science Museum (along with what’s left of British manufacturing). A couple of big lads turned up in fetching hi viz vests and butch safety helmets (it takes a real man to carry off yellow with style). After a bit of bump and grind, the meter was replaced in a thrice. Off they trotted, job done. I fancied a cuppa and went to the tap to fill the kettle. Up went the lever, down came the trickle. I’ve commented on our lacklustre sprinkle before but this was beyond ridiculous – more no-flow than low-flow. A quick bell to Anglian Water and, following a brief conversation about the whereabouts of my stop-cock (no idea), an emergency plumber was dispatched to my rescue. Oh God, I thought. It’ll be days of whore’s wipes, takeaways and pre-programmed poos before my stop-cock gets a good seeing to. But, no. A hour later, a handsome chappy in cargo pants turned up with wrench it hand. “Where’s your stop-cock?” he asked. “No idea,” I replied. He searched high and low and discovered the mechanism lurking behind the washing machine. As he knelt down to inspect my crevice, he flashed his own little crack. It was crowned with a tiny tuft of wispy hair. I stifled a wolf-whistle. A firm twist of the wrist and whoosh, the source of life gushed forth. Most satisfying. So, we now have sufficient water pressure to run a small hydro-electric dam. It never rains but it pours.
Hyde Park on Hudson
Another free ticket for Cinema City and another viewing: ‘Hyde Park on Hudson.’ We were enticed by the promising trailer, but I’m afraid the trailer contained all the best bits. Given the context – the first official visit of a British monarch to the USA, desperately trying to drum up American support on the eve of World War Two – and the salacious depiction of President Roosevelt as a serial philanderer with a First Lady who liked to lick the lettuce, the movie was disappointingly flat. The narrative was plodding and the dialogue lacked depth. Laura Linney put in a fine performance as ‘Daisy,’ the President’s distant cousin and reluctant paramour, Bill Murray as Roosevelt did his best with an average script and Samuel West made a suitably terrified King George VI. But ‘The King’s Speech,’ this ain’t.
People Shaped Travel
Expedia, the giant American online travel company, is the latest corporation to step up to the plate in support of same-sex marriage in the States by commissioning a short promo video called ‘Find Your Understanding.’ When it was released, the video caused quite a stir across the pond with the religious right getting their bible belts in a twist. Say what you will about big business gate-crashing the equalities party and cashing in on the pink economy, but the more the merrier I say. It all helps the cause. I can’t help wondering though, where does Expedia stand on dispatching its customers to those far-flung places across the globe with abysmal records on human rights (including those where being opening gay can be extremely detrimental to your health)? Fancy a souk-fest in Saudi or a gorilla safari in Uganda? Book through Expedia for ‘people shaped travel.’ I can taste the hypocrisy.
Young at Heart
To celebrate John Hurt’s appointment as the first Chancellor of the newly elevated Norwich University of the Arts, we sank a bottle at the nearby Playhouse Theatre Bar (like we need an excuse). The bar is the boozer of choice for the trendy young things loading up their student debts in wild abandon. Sitting like a couple of old codgers in the corner, we love to imbibe the ambience that overflows with youthful exuberance and optimism. It’s a welcome antidote to the cynicism of older age. The banter and gossip can be delicious and we are dedicated eavesdroppers.
Norwich Rising
Grey East Anglian skies didn’t dampen the enthusiasm of the fair ladies of Norwich as they strutted their stuff in support of their sisters around the world on the receiving end of violence and abuse. I couldn’t take my eyes (or my camera) off the older Norfolk broad with grey hair and a mean mauve streak who shook her tush with unbridled abandon. Way to go girl!
This is a small reminder of why they were dancing.
One Billion Rising
‘One Billion Rising’ is a global campaign to eradicate violence towards women and girls. Why One Billion Rising? Well, it’s estimated that one third of all women on the planet will experience violence at some point in their lifetime. It’s a staggering, almost incomprehensible statistic that makes the brain hurt. Tomorrow is ‘V’ day (Victory, Valentine and Vagina) and events are being held all over the world. Everyone is invited to shake their booties in a glorious dance fest of global proportions to call a musical halt to the horrifying levels of abuse. Let’s face it, knocking women about (and much, much worse besides) just ain’t clever – never was, never will be.
The Norfolk broads are doing their bit with ‘Norwich Rising’ at the Forum at 1pm and the ladies of Turkey are getting in on the act in Fethiye, Göcek, Izmir, Izmit, Istanbul and our old stomping ground, Bodrum. So to my Bodrum Belles, Gümbet Gals and Bitez Babes, get your backsides down to the harbour for a bit of bump and grind. Gather from midday for the dress rehearsal and wear something pretty in pink. We want to see those tushes twirling in perfect harmony by the 1pm kickoff. I have my spies.
An Intimate Evening with Ruthie Henshall
Ruthie Henshall, star of the West End, Broadway and Celebrity Family Fortunes, was in town performing her one woman gig at the Norwich Playhouse. Liam was first in the queue for tickets. Olivier award-winning Ruthie went down like mulled wine on a chilly night and belted out the old show tunes to an appreciative audience of old queens and old codgers. Ruthie’s tender rendition of “I Dreamed a Dream” from “Les Mis” (Ruthie played the role of tragic Fantine on stage in 1992) made for an interesting comparison with Anne Hathaway’s epic interpretation in the film version of the Glums currently doing the rounds. Ruthie didn’t disappoint.
The likeable Ms Henshaw punctuated the show with intimate tales and titbits from her chequered past. The slightly nervous repartee contrasted with a confident despatch of her back catalogue and the overall effect was rather endearing. I left the auditorium thinking that this was a girl I could have a drink with. Liam left the auditorium in love with yet another chanteuse.
I have my own romantic association with “I Dream a Dream.” Many moons ago in a gay bar on the Fulham Road, it was sung to me by a fat drag queen called ‘Dockyard Doris.’ Dearly departed Doris had a huge voice and carried off the key change with music hall assurance. The song was requested by a gas fitter (I was cleaning out his pipes at the time). He thought I was the one. I had other ideas.
Perking the Pansies 