Egos, heels, hairspray

Egos, heels, hairspray

William Shakespeare once wrote, “There’s tumult in the heavens and hurly burly on the earth”, and that could certainly apply to the Melbourne gay scene.

This week saw the shock announcement that the ALSO Foundation is in financial difficulties, after many years of service to the community, making it all the more clear that the scene is a-changing. At the very least it’s in a state of flux.

In the last three months we have seen the sale of the Market to a straight consortium and hasty sale of the Xchange back to its original owners. Another one bites the dust.

But fear not, dear readers, we still have the ‘great white hope’ that is the GH, or Etihad Stadium, as I like to call it. I sincerely hope the old hound can pull something extraordinary out of its Big Opening ’cos at the moment we are reduced to two venues worth attending — the old favourite the Peel, and the newly refurbed Hound.

Not a good state of affairs. Soldier on we must, club people. We love our mirror balls and if I know Melbourne party folk, they won’t go down without a fight.

The Greek goddess herself, Ms Bunny, a dear sister of mine, recently jetted off for a well-earned trip to Europe. Bon voyage, Ms Lapin.

Have a ball or several and keep me abreast of your activities, especially if those activities include well-endowed Greek boys or Turkish muscle tops. Knowing the horny rabbit as I do, they will! She invented the term ‘multiplying like rabbits’.

Tickets are sold out, I hear, for the Market’s huge closing night on May 28, with a show to end all shows produced by Zowie Knox, featuring at least 40 of our best cross-dressing ladies. My god, with that many egos and heels and hairspray in one place there’s sure to be some kind of atomic explosion.
Don’t miss it, kids. There’s sure to be some synthetic fibre flyin’ that night.

Also catch the last night of Drag Addicts on May 27 and every Friday between now and then. First show with Destiny and her sexy boys at 12 then Anita Candee and me on stage after.

Last week we all sat with bated breath in front of our tellys waiting for a glimpse of Montana Dee and her group of trans gals to appear on Australia’s Got Talent but to no avail. Just as I was about to pop a barbeque shape in my mouth with a sip of Tang and settle in for a great night’s viewing we were left hanging, so to speak.

Lots of singers who couldn’t sing and a few who could, some adolescent girls doing a tumbling act, but alas not one cross-dressing freak!

I knew Monte’s mouth would get her into trouble. Obviously on the cutting room floor ’cos they found Ms Dee’s comments too ‘cutting’.

I announced last week that this will be my last month of penning the column and I am very pleased to announce that my replacement is none other than Polly Filla. I can’t think of a better choice for the position and look forward to reading her weekly rant.

Stay tuned for my last few blurbs.

In the meantime, remember, repossession can mean only one thing.

Mwah.

Rita

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