I suppose I’ll yabber about my easter weekend, in the absence of anything more fascinating  (more fascinating than my weekend? non!!) and for the practice. Perfect balance of activity. After meeting and nattering to a fabulous old French woman on the train on Friday afternoon (she had a broken finger and wore mohair pop socks, if you please) who was complaining about the incessant announcements on TFL which, she explained, are a Pavlovian method of controlling citizens which should be constantly undermined and resisted, I had a lovely afternoon in Forest Hill with Cate before spying on Fi from behind a curtain in the BFI bar. She was on a date with a sweet looking boy who likes to wield axes. Saw Psycho. It gets much camper with age and I especially liked how quickly Mr/Mrs. Bates manages to assemble that bijou supper tray – hurry, Mary! Hurry!

To Duckie on Saturday night to catch Dominic Johnson perform. His amazing show, Transmission, gets camper, too. More glitter-fisting every time I see it. As usual, some of the Duckie regulars were ruffled by being sprayed with blood… maybe they shouldn’t have been standing so close to the stage trying to get a close look at Dominic’s dirty jockstrap (which he never washes).

Dominic. Photo: Marion Haenon

Sunday saw me hosting a double bill of films at the Roxy bar and Screen’s new Extraordinary Film Season (Wizard of Oz and Priscilla, Queen of the Desert). As well as introducing the films and encouraging punters to give dragovers to pictures of some of our political lightweights (paying special attention, of course, to Nick Griffin’s lazy eye and tying in neatly with today’s election date announcement… although personally I don’t think I can take another month of tedious pre-amble), I took on the genius of Eartha Kitt and her fluency in Turkish (“I like to feed my lover… bird’s milk!).

Then on to the Kimono Krush room at XXL where, apart from Lazy Susan, I was the only tranny in a room populated mostly by bears, the odd leather queen and Martin, who was up to his eyeballs in Valium (it’s his neck, you see) and having a whale of a time.