I made an affirmation at the end of my last blog that I wasn’t going to enter any more drag competitions. Contrary to that I actually entered loads more drag competitions! If I delve deep into my psyche and ask why, the answer I come up with is: I need the attention, and nobody is giving me gigs! Literally nobody – not even people that I know when I fill out forms to perform at their nights. I’m talented and I haven’t always had the terrible attitude I have today – so I have to assume there is just some demonic aura around me.
After promising I would never enter another drag competition, I entered one called ‘It’s a Knockout’ at Halfway to Heaven. Me and six other queens would compete weekly at increasingly more esoteric challenges. The first week I sang a ballad version of the Cheeky Girls, and my song; ‘F—king Around the World.' The second week I had to do a performance involving; The Pet Shop Boys, Soho Square, and lubricant. The third week I did a performance about getting bullied at school and sang my song ‘Superpowers’ which includes the lyrics, ‘... faerie, f*ggot, flaming queen, homo, batty, bender, queer, S**t-stabber, and Sodomite, summon all your strength tonight, of course they all know who you are yeah, ‘cos you’re born with superpowers!’ The judges voted me out. So I just hopped off the stage and started making out with my friend Candy in front of everyone. The host, Kelly Mild, asked me back on stage to make a speech and I said,
‘I hate the London Cabaret scene, I hate the Royal Vauxhall Tavern, and now I hate Halfway to Heaven too!’ I made out with Candy some more and then left. I felt like Rocky at the end of Rocky 1.
The next week I came back for the final covered in pearls and Kelly said to me,
‘Everyone said you’d do that … but I didn’t think you’d do it to us.’
I didn’t feel good that I’d hurt her (I love her and I've known her for years), though I did feel good that my reputation as a sour loser had proceeded me. I told her I’ve had that losing moment so many times and that I want to subvert it – turn it into something where I felt empowered.
Next, I entered a competition called ‘Poppycock’s Boot Camp’ at the Two Brewers. I questioned why I was systematically trying to alienate every gay bar in London. But the prize was £1000 worth of gigs - and that £200 a gig drag-money keeps luring me back. I’ve done a few of these conventional drag gigs where you sing pop songs for an hour for £200 and it’s never been particularly enjoyable for me. On one occasion at a bar in Greenwich a middle-aged woman, gurning like some creature out of a Goya painting, complained, ‘We just want you to sing Madonna.’ Later that night while I was trying to sing my song ‘Let’s Never Have Kids,’ a woman having a mental health episode tried to grab the mic off me and split my lip. She then got up on stage and flashed her vagina at everyone, the bar manager had to come and try and force her hand down.
The first week of ‘Poppycock’s Bootcamp’ I sang a song about having a crush on the son of the priest at my church. I was dressed as a priest and ripped off the robes halfway through the song to reveal a sparkly transparent Tudor onesie. But I felt slightly depressed throughout – that quote about the definition of insanity comes to mind - about doing the same thing repeatedly and expecting a different result. The second week was parody week, and I re-wrote ‘Halo’ by Beyonce about one of my favourite drag queens, Miss Jason. I was in the top two. But I lost out on the prize money doing one of my own songs against a drag queen singing ‘Dua Lipa.' I love this drag queen, but she didn’t know all the words. The third week some of my friends came along and asked me, 'Why are you doing this to yourself?'
The competition was giving me a revelation – that this was not what I wanted to do. I want to sing my own songs for people who want to hear them. I stayed in the competition because I really like the host Poppycock - the bar too. But I realised even if they let me win – the prize could actually be quite unpleasant. Having to sing Shania Twain in front of drunk gays baying for my blood like some Goya hellscape. In the final week I made a really long entry to the ‘Lonely Shepherd’ from Kill Bill. I Projected a video of me walking down the street covered in crystals until I reach the door of the bar and then the video stopped and I flung the door open. I then launched into a rant about every drag competition I’d lost over the years and sang, ‘If I lose this thing tonight, I’m gonna get so f**king drunk that I will puke out of my eyes.’ I crowned myself gave myself a sash and people threw flowers and I walked out and left.
My plan had been to just leave, but I was getting along so well with everyone, and I really didn’t want to upset them. I’d been worried I was becoming a bit of an asshole – but when this drag queen called Deliciously Extra was crowned the winner, I was so happy for her that I cried. Maybe I cried partly out of relief that I wasn’t the terrible bitter bitch I’d been making myself out to be.
The story should end here – with me realising I’m still a nice person and I want to release music rather than do drag. I am releasing a few EPs, starting with one called ‘I Hate Cabaret.’ But also, in some deranged state of mind, like some addict that wanted just one more hit, I decided to enter Drag Idol again! My excuse to myself was that I could get some film footage to promote my EP. Though I was also hoping this bar in Peckham called ‘John the Unicorn’ might give me a gig off the back of it.
The day of the competition I felt deeply depressed. Was it that I’d just given up vaping or that I was doing something so violently against having any respect for myself. I didn’t want to drop out, but I did have two very strong cocktails to try and beat my sense of foreboding. One of the judges was someone I’d competed against in ‘It’s a Knockout’ – a drag queen who was never particularly friendly towards me. I seem to inspire this kind of bemused dislike in some conventional gays. Anyway, I told everyone backstage that I was a bit depressed, so I’d got a bit drunk. I then managed quite a merry mood in which I even tried to steal another drag queen’s drink. Then I delivered a some-what messy performance of ‘The Cheeky Girls,’ ‘Fucking Around the World,’ and ‘Let’s Never Have Kids.’ People enjoyed it – but then this drag queen judge that I’d competed against decided it was her moment to be the puritanical voice of concern.
‘I have to say – I found it incredibly unprofessional that you came here drunk. Even though you said you were having a bad day – that’s not really an excuse. I felt unsafe.’
Wow – I thought – what the hell is wrong with this drag queen. That time I did leave. I put my backpack on and walked out. It was a nice bar, and the audience were great, and I would’ve loved a gig there. Maybe I sabotaged myself, maybe I need some counselling, maybe I need to stop dealing with depression by drinking double strength Negronis. You might think I’m going to say I’m never going to enter a drag competition again, but I booked myself into two venues for Drag Idol this year! I’m supposed to be competing at the Admiral Duncan on the 23rd of May! And hopefully that will be my final hit on the crack-pipe that is drag competitions. Come watch me smash myself in the head with a mallet live on stage while singing ‘Man I Feel Like a Woman.’ You can also come to my EP launch on the 6th of May at the Divine. It's called 'I Hate Cabaret' and all the profits are going to a trans and gender minority radical faerie gathering. Astro 'I Hate Cabaret' EP Launch Tickets | 06 May @ The Divine, London | £7 | OutSavvy
