Mirror, mirror on the floor. Which lovely show lass about town did a bit of quick redecorating last week? Seems she didn’t like the position of some dressing-room mirrors and decided to take matters into her own large hands.

Dear me. Seven years bad luck at least. As Agatha Christie once said, “The Mirror Crack’d”.

Robarta was the place to be seen with the launch of Wilma Fingerdoo’s So You Think You Can Drag, with ‘live’ video messages from the icon herself Nina Flowers.

The place was packed and jumping with a red carpet arrival zone, bells, whistles, and everything. Now that’s how you do an opening.

Chookahs, Wilmsie. I look forward to seeing the lacefronts fly in coming weeks.

Cha cha cha changes. Lots happening on a Monday with some hasty cast changes at the Prince. A change is as good as a holiday, I say.

Keep your ears peeled and your eyes open for the final show ever to be seen at the Market Hotel. Drag Addicts hits the stage on Fridays with the legendary Miss Candee, me, and the gorgeous beauty that is Anita Beer for a limited four-week run during May. Don’t miss this one — going out with a bang.

And speaking of ‘going out’, I must announce, dear readers, that I am winding up this column at the end of May. It’s been fun but all good things come to an end.

Other gossip columns in the past have met the same fate. They have a shelf life.

While I’ve enjoyed venting my spleen, it hasn’t come without its price. Goodness knows I’ve ruffled a few feathers, but isn’t that the purpose of a gossip column?

Whether some felt I was in a position to do so is debatable. However, I was asked to give an opinion and have done so. Some may be dismayed, others elated — I tend to polarise people.

Nonetheless, it is time for this biddy to move aside and let the new batch have its turn — unlike some other vintage ladies who cling to their shaky pedestal with nips, tucks and all manner of hydraulic hoists.

I would like to thank Scott, Mark, and Andie at Southern Star for their support and for the opportunity to unleash my scattered meanderings once a week.

But fear not, poppets — I am here until June 1. Heaven knows what will happen in the next four weeks.

Until then, remember — camp can mean a thousand things.


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