By Jack Cullen
London’s dragerazzi and transvestite throng wiggled into Leicester Square’s rackety Spiegeltent last week for the opening night of Briefs latest tour! Jonny Woo, Alex Reid, Gingzilla, Cazeleon, Shay Malt and BJ McNeill queued up outside as if it were the Ann Summers January sale.
Self-described as “the world’s hottest all-male boylesque group” I have a confession to make: I wasn’t sure about going to see Briefs.
The poster shows five peacocky men in heels, visually classing itself somewhere in the realm of Chippendales meets Kazaky (those YouTube gays who prance about to latter-day Madonna garbage) and as the famous Margaret Cho line goes; “Why would I pay to see gay men dancing naked? They do it in my living room for free.”
But a few minutes later, I was completely away with the fairies, clapping and cooing like a demented wood pigeon, my chair struggling to support me as I stomped, gasped, guffawed and positively rocked, eyes agog – taking in this tour-de-force of pop routines, acrobatics, comedy and the brilliant but (no offence) sometimes brilliantly hideous costumes. The outfits provided plentiful bedroom inspiration. Whether you’re a sucker for high-vis, jock straps, disco garb, Aztec warriors or pubic wigs – Briefs has it by the suitcase-load.
Shivannah the emcee drag queen (and creative director behind the project) runs the show and is great fun. Imagine if you will the madame of a wild brothel diversifying it into a laser quest, using a props box from 2002’s Lanzarote Pride. Fantastic. For all the frills and fanfare, she is an accomplished hostess.
The dancers themselves use a combination of comedy, striptease and synchronised dance to impress, but it is the acrobatics that really lift Briefs up into a jaw-dropping wedgy. Thomas Worrell’s all-swinging cage-spinning interpretation of a Bjork song is worth the ticket price alone. Talk about a poppers rush – how does his brain even work after all that spinning? There are deft music choices throughout the show – Roisin Murphy’s ‘Ten Miles High’ and Kate Bush’s ‘Running Up That Hill’ were both personal highlights, but if you came for slut-dropping ball-slapping tribal house – you might also be in luck.
Harry Clayton-Wright, everyone’s favourite faggy bespectacled social media star of yore – and sidekick extraordinaire from Miss Behave’s Gameshow – really proves himself as a fabulously fun live act with comic flair, bringing some barmy to the army.
The Briefs press release states that this show is “political party punk” – and at such a horrible time for human rights globally, with innocent LGBTQ+ civilians being bullied, harassed, imprisoned and murdered daily by brainwashed tormentors – there is something hugely commendable about this show, bringing a big varied audience together and reminding us that we are strong, and that we share more in common – music, friendship, humour, and that we must keep spreading love. For all its campyloo sci-fi props and rickety space age schtick, the most out-there element of Briefs is perhaps its 100% warmth – which feels ever so novel in a jaded British capital that thinks it has everything.
It is the innocence, earnestness and self-determination of Briefs, symptomatic of its Australian origins maybe, that makes this show such a welcome addition to London’s cabaret offering. One of the hottest tickets in town. Well done Shivannah – and very well done lads! Buy yourself a ticket to this brilliantly fun show and put a smile on your boyfriend’s face. Talking of which, can someone give Thomas Worrell my number please. I’ll be waiting by the fudge stall outside. Every night. And morning.
Briefs is at Leicester Square Spiegeltent until 3rd January. For more info and tickets, head to christmasinleicestersquare.com
