Holestar Birthday BBQ Boogaloo Bonanza

Hot digidy damn. Saturday was my birthday BBQ boogaloo bonanza. My actual birthday is 28th December (shite shite shite) so have decided to throw myself an official one six months later in the year to strike up a decent balance. And I’m pretty sure that is was better than the queens childrens party panto sorry affair. (Most hilarious way to get through a come down.)

My specifics on the invite were no numpties or drama and that’s what I got (though there were a few knob ends but there are always those who slip through the net).

People started to arrive about 3 and was a steady stream throughout the day with Josh finally arriving around midnight.
I got my head down on the decks (thanking you kindly Mattcat) and span some boots and old ravey flavours (and to be honest, because a kid turned up which freaked me out a bit. I don’t really want kids around when I intend to get trolleyed and swear like a nun.). Dan did a top job on the BBQ and though there were different people from different groups, everyone got on and no drama or conflicts thank fuck.

I had some rather interesting gifts; A basket of flowers from Dan (and an unsigned card with googly eyes), Holestar socks from Harry (with Holestar written backwards), Pat Butcher type jewellery from Josh and one of the greatest presents in the history of gifts: Shut up and dance - Raving I’m Raving on 7”. Woot!

Hadn’t intended to get on the ‘Benny Hill’s’ but it was my party and I‘ll get high if I want to. Took me quite a while to get going but when I was there twas top bananna. Until I chucked up my ring at the bottom of the garden. Classy.
Well Dan said it wouldn’t be a proper party unless the hostess puked at her own bash. Quite right.

There was a bit of male on male action going on which was alarmingly quite saucy and I forgot how annoying drunk people are when you’re battered and they are rolling around being pissed and obnoxious (note to self).

We were treated to a Pirate Soundsystem set with Don and Josh (watch this space, these boys are going to go far. FACT.). And I will be hosting at their next shin dig: Pirate 2 - Bring Back Frank Butcher.
I’ll be donning a Pat look for the evening.

All in all, a top day and night had by all I believe. No complaints from the neighbors (though we were pretty darn loud) and the only damage was done to a few brain cells and a cupboard door in the kitchen coming off its hinges.
So a few people didn’t turn up. You snooze, you loose.

Hot photo action with wigs, my strap on and other malarkey here and here.

Finally kicked out the last guest at 8am and a bit of a kip before clearing up the carnage and watching football in the garden (What a lame game. Cracking goal from Golden Knackers though.) and having another BBQ with the remains of the day.

Was asked several times when I was next having a party, intend on having another bash later in the summer (having a big garden and not using it is a bit rude.)

Was supposed to have a gig this week but quite wankily got cancelled (not one I’m all that bothered with pursuing to be honest. Not my kind of club or people) and next week will be the 1001 deg North at The Spitz.

I recorded the vocals on Thursday for something that has made me quite excited to be a part of. Can’t really blab about it yet but it’s going to be the first tune from a rather credible ‘group’ in 10 years.

I hope to be online soon. Going to the internet café on a regular basis to sort my life out is frustrating as watching the advert that starts ‘Is your man one of the one in ten men with an erection problem’.

Oh and Big Brother. I’ve been sucked into its vacuous hole. I’m actually studying it and doing a lot of research on celebrity and reality culture for my Fine Art Masters. I got a call last week asking if I wanted to go on ‘Trisha’. The ‘plot’ was ‘Guess what Dad, I’m a Tranny’. She does her patronising bit, I come out in drag, father’s reaction and then they drag up dad for the finale. Classy eh?

I’m guessing they didn’t know I’m actually a chick and lord knows how they found out about me.
I told the researcher no because 1) My parents know, 2) I actually have a bit of dignity left and 3) I didn’t want to sell my soul to daytime TV. Especially not car crash Trisha.
I would do it, but only if I could direct it to my advantage and make it into a performance piece with a fake Dad (my father would look shocking in a frock anyway) but that is very unlikely.

I’m really not desperate for that kind of exposure. A lot of people have said I’d be a good contestant on Big Brother as even at 29, I’ve had a pretty interesting life and speak my mind. I wouldn’t last five minutes in there, especially with the lot that are in there at the moment.

So desperate to have their moment in the light for not actually doing anything but be on TV. Watching Friday nights Lisa eviction (now that’s a girl who can swear), it was amazing how as soon as she’d left the house, she posed for the cameras like a pro despite being an actual nobody.

Lap it all up baby because no one will have a clue or care who you are in six months. Do these people not see how previous house mates have crashed and burned upon leaving the house?
The ‘Golden Ticket Winner’ Suzy is so desperate for fame, that her husband apparently bought £4000 worth of promotional Kit Kats so she could have a chance of entering the house, mirroring Veruca Salt in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.
She is quite rich so doesn’t need the cash but clearly desperate for attention and lacking in other areas. She has very little in common with the others, won’t drink the cheap wine the other house mates are given, has huge knockers that ridicule her frame and is quite dull. Probably quite a pleasant person, just 0 entertainment value.

Now Nikki. She’s my girl. I despised her character at first but now find her the most entertaining thing about the show. Her tantrums and the way she uses language is ingenious (‘Why is she sucking the bum‘? ‘Whatever tickles your pickle’ ‘I’m not sucking arse holes’) There has never been such an extreme character, fictional or otherwise on our screens. When she’s not in a rage about some innocuous matter, she’s quite dull but when she lets fly it‘s pure sacrificial entertainment.

In the past, many would attend public executions. Big Brother and reality TV is the modern day equivalent.
Car crash amusement. You know you shouldn’t be watching, but morbid curiosity means you just can’t help looking.

Not going to go into the ‘star with talent’ versus ‘celebrity’ culture thing. Got to save something for the thesis. (Though finding enough credible research resources on the subject is pretty tough).

This net café currently smells of dried spunk and B.O. Delightful non?


George Michael and bitchy women (Gah!)

Ended up to see some dire gay play in the west end with Colin and a few others a while back.

Can’t remember the name but it had something to do with Dorothy. Despite using every gay cliché in the book and pretty primary school feel to the whole thing, it was throwaway nonsense with a few mildly amusing bits. Just glad I didn’t pay to see it.

Later that week I had a call from my (so far a bit pointless) agent.
Did I want to be in George Michaels new video? Erm …aye.

So Friday morning, full drag at Pineapple Studios in Covent Garden. Lady (Lusty) Lloyd (Trannyshacks door slut) was there, burlesque performers, dancers and a whole menagerie of drag queens who looked like they’d just stepped off a Pride float (looking good but generic glittery drag really).
Had to shimmy and pout at the camera for a bit and that was it.
Was told if I wasn’t called at 6 that evening, I hadn’t got it.

No call so went out on the sauce to 93 Feet East for the World Cup opener with the Cartel boys behind Bastard and a few bands (The Blood Arm were pretty good. Great front man-larked around on the speakers like a fool. That’s what I want to see in the lead, entertain me!).

Lenlow and Kenlow were over from the States, the E-Jitz boys were down from Aberdeen and was pretty much a who’s who of the mong board (my beloved GYBO). I drank way too much vodka and despite a few niggles with silly things, was a great night all-round. PICS

Saturday was England’s first World Cup match. Now since I left the Army, I’ve not had much of an interest in pig ball. Only reason I ever did when I was in was there was bugger all else to do at the weekend but drink beer and watch football. I don’t really support any team (though have very vaguely supported Liverpool since I was 7 for some odd reason) except England.

I woke with a hangover and a call from my (vague) agent saying that I was actually a maybe for the George Michael video and they had spent so long casting, hence no call.
Just had to wait for an OK from Mr Michael and I was in but still a maybe.

Jo Zephyr had a BBQ at her house for the occasion where we all wore hats. Because hats are always a good thing. I had a Viking horn affair but my personal favourite being Jools MF rocking a cute sparkly red pill box hat. Work it! (PHOTOS)

I wasn’t drinking as I was a bit shaky from the previous night and probably a good idea as in the evening I had a call saying I had got the job and had to be in Acton at 8am. On a Sunday.

Arrived on time (a first I think) and at first, nobody seemed to know what was going on so was whisked from wardrobe, makeup, hair, makeup and wardrobe again. There were only 20 extras in all and rather than just a disco background shot, we all had our own routines on a big Hype Williams style black n blingin stage.

I was very surprised they chose me as there were loads of Trannys at audition and I was the only one selected. Maybe because I’m the Tranny without that little bit extra.

Most people there were dancers, some from Paris, one gal from L.A. Valeria Dragova (real name too) is a fierce, gorgeous burlesque ballet performer, Juliet and Derek who were ace androgynous models, Polly who does the VIP at Heaven and has been on the scene for years, some fantastically fabulous dancers and simply everyone there in the cast and crew were professionals at the top of their game and everyone got on really well.

The most interesting characters and a genius piece of casting were two old twins from Paris with bright ginger hair who were as spooky as The Shinning twins. Didn’t speak to anyone and practised their routine endlessly. I suggested we run a book to guess their age and if either had ever had sex. Always in synch, same clothes, same gestures. Constantly in conspiracy whispering to each other.

George turned up at one point though his part of the shoot was on Monday. Very casual, no fanfare and seemed like a chilled guy. Looking pretty good too. Didn’t get to speak to him but nodded to each other while sat in a chair waiting to go on stage. Was wearing slightly dirty trainers too which is refreshing to see.

When his wardrobe turned up, my goodness. The makeup artist (Billy, ace woman) and I sat watching agog when a van full of Barneys of New York, Paul Smith, Selfridges, Harvey Nicks etc gear being carted in just for Mr Michael. How the other half live eh?

They had me in a big wig, tuxedo, corset and cane ensemble which looked fierce but had me sweating like a fat heifer in a marathon. In heels.

Had to do a routine which had me grabbing my boobs, twirling the cane around and generally being slutty and bitchy. Not so hard to work. Hardest part was strutting on the stage in stripper slutty heels on the stage which was like a big black mirror.

After we’d all done our routines (some in pairs, others solo) we had a group shot of us all swinging our hand in the air like we just didn’t care (Jake the Directors words were something on the lines of “You are blissed out on Ecstasy, it’s running through your veins”. That was probably the toughest part of the shoot with all 20 of us on stage, squished together under hot lights.
Some people were whinging about the time and their heels hurting but I tried to stay pro and positive. Showbiz doesn’t run on a 9-5 basis and my god, how boring it would be if it was.

All in all, was there for almost 17 hours but it was a great day and very humbling to be around such talented and nice people. Just hope I get in the final cut somewhere. Have no idea when it’ll be out but it should look bangin’. Shame the song has little in the way of a chorus or hook (sorry George!)

Had a nice chilled out day with Dave on the Monday (gutted I missed the Sunday Brick Lane and DTPM wrongness the night before) and still trying to sort out the internet thing with the girl downstairs who seems to have a problem communicating with people in a reasonable manner.

I’m learning tolerance that I never knew I had. Having lived on my own for about 13 years, I’m used to doing things my own way and only now learning to deal with other peoples habits and behaviour. Still confirms to me that I hate living with women. The fact they don’t communicate with each other in a civil manner is winding me up and have told them both I’m not interested in their petty squabbles and that they should have the guts to say things to each others faces instead of tittle tattling behind each others backs. Bloody bitchy women.

Not sure why I have always got on better with men both hetro and homo. Just prefer male company to female. Less bullshit, more straight forward and direct, problems get sorted out quicker and generally more fun.

This Saturday was a BBQ at Jools’ house in Stoke Newington. Despite a conversation about people never seeing me pissed (as I’m usually sick if I drink too much so like to stay on the fun side of tipsy) I got quite a bit wobbly (might have had something to do with the spliffage too though). Big Fun. PHOTOS

Sunday was another chilled one with Dave who is leaving in a few weeks to move to Aberdeen who I’m going to miss a hell of a lot (as well he knows.)

Next Saturday is my official Birthday Booze Up Bonanza. Sod it, if the queen can have one, why can’t I? It amazes me that someone so rich can look like she’s still going to Sue Ryder for her frocks and bags.

If anyone I haven’t invited who fancies a day of debauchery in my back garden (no that’s not a synonym for something else), send a PM or such like.
The theme is come as me (in my glamorous or kinky guise, not my day to day butchness).

Got a few gigs coming up but nothing major yet.
Have already started research for my Fine Art Masters and have some top ideas but need some funding for equipment which is proving tricky.

Until next time kittens remember, Many a muckle makes a muckle.

Kashpoint & Bastard

Kashpoint on HMS President on Victoria Embankment was a big bag of fun and japes.

Arrived fairly earlyish and was very quiet so was a bit apprehensive about how the evening would pan out.
But soon filled up with lots of fabulous freaks. Only my second Kashpoint but I love the mix of innovative dressing up and creativity.

Met some wonderful and interesting people (and a few pretentious types to, as to be expected).

Show time first was Baby Clyde (who gave me a CD of his. I have his track ‘The Wine’ on repeat. Ace.) then The Shit and then me doing the E-Jitz’s Two Magdalene Fuckers (The Smiths-How Soon is Now vs. De’Lacy Hideway).
After the first verse, I whipped off my top to reveal two fake boobs and after the final chorus took off my skirt to reveal a strap on rubber cock with a pink ribon to set it off. For the lip synch bit where Morrisey comes back in, I grabbed a bunch of flowers and hurled them around before chucking them into the crowd.

In fact, just watch the video eh?


I’ve been asked why don’t I just get my real tits out instead of fake ones.
First off, they are mine and for private consumption only and second; It’s part of my whole gender bending extravaganza. Odd but many people thought I was a drag queen, until they actually spoke to me and heard my voice.

Art often tells the audience what they should be thinking. Work can be quite insipid until the description or title is read and then the opinion of how the piece is perceived may change. I like the idea of the viewer drawing their own conclusions despite my actual intentions. Let them think what they want to.

It is quite clear that I am a woman despite the paraphernalia (though the amount of Tranny chassers I get on Myspace who try and add me as a ‘friend’ who see the picture and don’t actually read my profile clearly don’t) yet if people want to think I’m a man, so be it.

I like to think of Holestar, the drag character being neither male, female or trans.
Highly sexed with no gender.The whole point for me is about subverting and ultimately, having a giggle, entertaining and confusing a few people.

I’m going to do a photo shoot with a full moustache (I’m thinking a Winsor Davies one), massive fake boobs (the ones I got weren’t really big enough, only just covering my own) and a big neon pink willy. Make of that what you will.

Also performing was Bishi (DJing some ace tunes), Vote Show Pony and finally ViKtor who is a lovely boy indeed. PHOTOS

This months Bastard was top notch. Danced on the speakers with The_Dr who was sporting a new Little Mermaid dress (odd to be on the speaker not being in drag with a boy in a dress) and got quite tipsy.

Zephyr pulled out the stops with a ’Brits Abroad’ theme and if I’m not mistaken a very good time was had by all. One of the best Bastards I’ve been to.
Supercollider played a great set and Jools and Stinkin Rich stormed it. PHOTOS HERE

On the night bus, some twat job tried to knick something from my bag! He had his hand actually in it and had unzipped one of the sections. I grabbed his hand while it was in the bag and very loudly shouted “what the fuck are you doing, you cunt“. (Such a lady.)
The drunk girl in front of me started screaming at him and after I pointed out to him that what he was attempting to steal was makeup, that it wasn't his colour and should stick to pink hues and calling him a whole barrage of names and his mate looking very disappointed, he soon fucked off. Chancing bastard.
My temper said call the police but what would they have done? Bugger all. What goes around, comes around and he’ll probably get caught and get a good beating.

Sunday was a lovely afternoon spent with the kids Dan and Harry boozing down Brick Lane.

I feel quite out of place down there but had on my new Broadway Market sequined jacket which is the shit.
Had loads of people talk to me while wearing it. We sat outside Café 1001 and had a bimble around the Art market which after paying a pound to get into, seemed a bit steep.

Lots of quite pretentious, uninspired rot to be honest. There were three lesbos on stage doing air guitar and drums to Guns & Roses’ 'Paradise City' which while good in concept, was pretty shit as they only lip synched when they felt like it, had made no effort with the outfits and were generally quite dull.

Don’t think I’ll ever be accepted into the art crowd scene.

I don’t take myself too seriously, have an eclectic mix of mates and interest, don’t spend hours on an outfit and dress quite casually (sans drag) and actually found Nathan Barley to be a fucking hilarious spot on observation of that scene and not the factual documentary that a lots of the kids down there perhaps thought it to be.

Que Sera Sera as Doris would say.