And so it came to pass that Polari was evicted from its plush penthouse home in The Pavilion at the Royal Festival Hall, and we found ourselves relocated in The Blue Room in the "bowels" of the hall - a place with which, as Paul Burston quite rightly said, many of us were quite familiar...
However we didn't let a little thing like demotion ruin our favourite evening at "London's peerless literary salon"! Surrounded by celebrities as we were (well, David Hoyle anyway!), the suitably blue-themed musical selection drew to a close and the entertainment began.
Author Niven Govinden opened the show with his wry tale of two couples - one straight, one gay - on a very fractious trip to Amsterdam, with all the drunkenness, arguments, dancing - and cat problems* - that a visit to that decadent city can muster. Intriguing and very funny, I think I might pencil in one of his books to read later.
Niven was followed by the very jolly Helen Sandler, lesbian poet and host of the Vauxhall Tavern's "Bar Wotever" variety nights, who entertained us with a selection of her short, sharp poems (on a series of tiny little file-cards). Very varied, very incisive, and very entertaining! Visit Helen's website.
After the break it was time for one of the aforementioned Mr Hoyle's chums to take the stage. Of course, it was not until Mr Burston introduced him that I realised that the published poet Gerry Potter was, in a previous life, none other than alternative cabaret artiste Chloe Poems! Speaking of the decision to kill off the Chloe character, Gerry commented that this was the first time he had been able to read his poetry in his own voice, and so immediately launched into a poem on that very subject...
Gerry's selection of poetry from his new anthology Planet Young - all scally girls ("Tiffany Bling" saved Gerry from being beaten up), photo-booths and teenage angst - was the highlight of the evening for us, so much so that all four of us bought a copy. Buy yours today!
Our final author Mark Sanderson read a (literally) chilling passage from his new novel Snow Hill, set in an underworld of homosexual brothels, rent boys, sadistic murder and police corruption and based around the meat market at Smithfield in London. Just as the hero of the story, a reporter in Thirties London, thinks he has some information that might solve the disappearance (and presumed murder) of a policeman he finds himself locked into one of the fridges alongside the horribly butchered body of his contact - hanging from a meat hook with his genitals stuffed in his mouth. Gruesome stuff, but intriguing...
Mr Sanderson has had mixed reviews for his novel, but on the basis of the passage he read I think it might be an interesting read - and Barry Forshaw in The Independent agrees.
Needless to say, yet again we had a thoroughly entertaining time - and look forward to next month's "theatrical theme" event on 16 June!
[*Ailurophobia = fear of cats]
Polari