Cock of the Walk!
What’s the hot, pulsing heart of homosexuality? The dick, of course, immortalised everywhere in Western culture from the tiny todger of Michalangelo’s David to the huge, killer erection that’s the Washington Monument! It’s not surprising – what else do we live, breathe and die for, if not the faintest chance of a ferocious orgasm daily?
X-Treme Attitude – The Countess Vs Lazarus!
Ever heard a peeled baby scream? That’s the sound of Countess Alex Zapak, the dazzling doyenne of Cunt Rock! All raw, raging, Freudian passion, unhinged and unrestrained, furiously pissing on boundaries never even imagined, she’s a primal scream princess personified!
Go West, Young Man!
Do first impressions count? Oh, juicy Christ at Christmas, yes! Haven’t you lost count of locking red-hot eyes with strangers, and later, locking pumping loins in impromptu spurts of anonymous spunk?
Lady Sasha ventures to the sumptuously salacious 1898 Bal du Rat Mort at The Royal Academy.
Who’s the real Marc Almond? A scabrous, hyper-eloquent, low-rent, Noel Coward? A deranged, barely-sane rock and roller, slithering in and slurping the sour, poxy juices of every known sexual excess? Or maybe, just maybe, all of the above and more, a world-class, avant-garde crooner with the aplomb of Charles Aznavour and Scott Walker combined?
The Beauty Of Poison?
All sizzling, perverse eroticism, Joe stabs an immediate fish-hook in any watching genitals! Half noir Norma Desmond, half pancake-orange Dale Winton, s/he’s instant love at a first blowjob bite! Gee, no wonder the amputee stump of my half-dead dick spasmed instantly!
What Are Words Worth?
You know what? Everyday life is fuckin’ tough! Sure, pray every frantic second to whatever god floats your boat – Quentin Crisp in pantyhose, maybe – but someday, someway, shit’s gonna hit you, big-time! So screw living in a dopey, mopey, self-anaesthestised mindset – maybe, just maybe, you should try dealing with stuff like a fully functional adult? See, that nasty old world out there doesn’t give a fuck about your sweet, sensitive, inner self – mostly, outside pampered Europe, the mood’s kill or be killed!
Which brings us, pointedly, to rightly acclaimed performance artist Scottee’s directorial debut, Putting Words In Your Mouth. In a startling stroke of brilliantly perverse originality, he plays with and tries to explosively reclaim the lamest, dead duck of gay drag culture – lip-synching. But hey, there’s a killer twist; three black performers – Lasana Shabbaz, Travis Alabanza and Jamal Gerald - superlatively mime the fascistic bile of white, privileged bigots, creating an instant, electrifying, WTF? reaction.
How Far Can Too Far Go?
What’s your idea of artistic outrage? Eating fresh shit from a dead, aborted foetus used as a plate?
What’s even worse than smug, raging ego, the Simon Cowell skid-mark on good taste? Got no idea? Than say hi to she-go, beloved by talent-free tarts worldwide! Yep, the females of the species – and deluded drag queens – are indeed deadlier than the male, as vanity inflates faster than MPs’ expense claims to fill the flesh charisma cannot reach!
Let’s Worship The New Flesh!
Ever heard of body horror? The repulsive, beyond sick, totally in-your-face inflicting of gross sights and sounds on a helpless, passive audience? Well, in the words of novelist Graham Greene, later outrageously repurposed by gay pop queens Frankie Goes to Hollywood, welcome to the pleasure dome! See, right now, in 2016, we’re trapped in a sick, slick media spectacle 24/7, where constant, routine atrocities – hello, drowning refugees – are less newsworthy than soap opera scandals.