You know that Mardi Gras season has hit when you have blisters on blisters. Let me tell you, it is in full swing as we speak. As I henpeck my way through this week’s column, my swollen feet sit in a bucket of water -“ oh what a sight! Yes, this old grey mare ain’t what she used to be.

Last weekend saw the annual Retail Therapy hit Oxford Street, though I will always know it as Shop Yourself Stupid -“ the new name is shithouse.

And also my ninth anniversary of being a showgirl. Who would have believed, last century, when I first donned a frock and jumped around like a fool, that I would be still doing it today? Madness!

With the sun blazing down, it was the perfect day to be done up like a sore toe. There’s nothing better than unnatural fibres in the hot sun. Each showgirl almost magically appeared in every watering hole at regular intervals for their union breaks, taking only a short time off to down a drink or two before going off collecting money again.

The atmosphere on Oxford Street was almost back to normal with shows up and down the strip and a happy vibe, making my personal crusade that much closer to fulfilment. We can make it gayer, I’m sure we can.

After what seemed like a thousand shows (trust me, my partner in crime Claire de Lune did the same bloody number up and down the strip, it was a thousand), I was able to race off and have a quick nap before work.

Following my usual shows at Stonewall and the Midnight Shift, I was obliged to celebrate my new boyfriend David’s birthday, causing my day/ night to finish in the wee hours of the morning.

After a few hours of slumber, I arose to see it was very humid and overcast. Great, just what we all wanted for the Harbour Party. This year I was performing a happening with Verushka, Claire and a handful of very sexy boys. A Midsummer Night’s Dream quickly came to life.

As you could imagine, I was the fairy princess because I am so much younger than Verushka, who was the queen. We all danced around throwing fairy dust and bubbles, like crazy people.

Most partygoers really had no idea what was happening, but seemed to enjoy it anyway. It gave me an opportunity to feel up the sexy boys. When you are playing a character, you can get away with so much, can’t you!

David and I decided to exit the party just as the rain started, though we did have to walk all the way home, arriving wet to the bone, both looking like drowned rats.

There really isn’t anything better than seeing a showgirl caught in the rain, is there? No wonder my feet are the way they are. Oh well, let’s do it all again next weekend.

Happy Mardi Gras and remember, more kissing on Oxford Street!

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