19/09/2015: After waiting 45 minutes for an Uber, I walked in the door just as the inimitable Drag With No Name was finishing her set. In the famous words of Miranda Priestly – “Drag With No Name’s recital was absolutely wonderful.
She played Rachmaninoff. Everyone loved it. Everyone except me, because sadly, I was not there.” Channeling my inner Jennie Bond, I got all Panorama on the regulars of Central Station, who regaled me with tales of cutting humour, cavorting on top of the tables, the voice of an angel and even a cheeky performance sans drag.
The rest of the night was a blur of Strongbow Dark Fruits and interesting encounters. To a soundtrack of Anastasia (Yes!) and Celine Dion (10 points to Central Station for playing ‘Misled’, what a tune), I chaired a heated debate on Scottish independence at the bar, and was rather insistently told by a charming, yet rather inebriated, older gentlemen that he was in fact, in love with me, despite my looking and feeling like Nicola Sturgeon after a heavy one.
Central Station, you’ve found yourself a new fan!
37 Wharfdale Road, N1 9SD
Words by Mark Hamil
Photos by zefrographica