Thighs Down !

I learnt yesterday that St Nicholas, as well as knocking out a few pressies, is also the patron saint of children, sailors and prostitutes!  So it really is the season to be jolly.

And to sell oneself.  Which is fortunate, as Christmas, for a performer, normally consists of plying one’s trade.  In the past this has usually meant appearing in a rather saccharine family show or slapping a thigh in pantomime.

Andrew was Lily Savage’s right hand man on many occasions . They also did panto together!


Andrew sporting his winter duvet!

A filthy prince, a wicked drag queen, seven over-sexed, boozy dwarves and a ’Snow White’ who had definitely drifted! A wonderful introduction to the theatre for the little’uns.

And so traditional!

I once starred alongside Marti Caine and the fabulously naughty Derek Griffiths in the same story.


Marti and fag.

Whilst singing a love duet with the princess, Mr Griffiths would come up behind me, and, unbeknownst to the audience, commence to do unspeakable things with his glove puppet.

It gave a whole new meaning to the phrase  ‘It’s behind you’ !

This year, our festive offering was a gig at the Bingo hall in Gibraltar.



Sandwiched between the ‘early bird’ and the late session we gave our ‘Lola Boys’ routine to three hundred and fifty of it’s lovely members. It all went terribly well. At one point I thought we had a standing ovation, then realised it was the queue for Christmas dinner at the back of the hall.  Well, I suppose one should never pass up a good stuffing when it’s on offer.

At the end of the performance, and the sprouts, a mother and her charming daughter came to congratulate us. The younger woman, who was obviously a few numbers short of a full house, gave me a kiss and told me how much she had enjoyed the show. Without warning, she then dropped to her knees and made for my very own bingo balls.

’No Kelly’, the mother screamed, ‘not here’!

I shuddered to think what may have happened were we not in the glare of our spotlight and with no parental guidance. It could have been six and nine, your place or mine!  I was most definitely the apple of Kelly’s eye!

I nearly had to explain I was more of a fifty-two – a Danny La Rue!


There was another close call during the show, when Andrew did his two fat ladies routine! As he gyrated and pulsated into the faces of a couple of dumbstruck pensioners, I wondered if this was the moment his number might finally just come up.

I was in a right two and eight.  But no. Luckily, it all clickety clicked. They loved it. And we have been invited back.

No numbers this time. Just ours.


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