London - Crowds, Transvestites and an Awesome Comeback

Thanks Easyjet, despite breaking my guitar two summers ago and then trying to dodge paying me back, you still have some use to a family who's trans-nationalism (and size) means that it's still cheaper to fly three people to London for a day's shopping... than it is to locally buy the 30 gifts that it takes said family to fulfill its annual quota for morally obliged selflessness.

Even in the Amazon era, Switzerland's obscene cost of living makes Christmas a significant financial ordeal. A 15 lb (7kg) turkey costs about as much as a small yacht, due to a tradition of the Swiss distrusting foreign meat and a protectionist import market, meaning Fritz and Heidi can charge what they like for the five hand-fed birds they raise per year.

(except when the Swiss do it, it's not a typo)

So off we went to London  - the Parentals and I, on a 48-hour round trip to take advantage of an ever-more-awesome exchange rate (thanks, Eurozone), visit my three UK-based siblings, and take in a West End show as a little treat for Mum (more on that in a minute). However...


Apparently, EVERYONE ELSE IN THE WORLD had the same idea.
I'm used to big crowds. I've been in the 2-million capacity (!!) 'Megamall' in the Philippines, and in 2002, my inauguration into World Cup co-host Seoul looked like this:

(Doing 'the wave' involved a break for lunch)

I'd be exaggerating (a bit) if I said that central London was quite as bad as THAT. But it was by far the biggest crowd I've been in since. People were queuing for the tube from the platform to ticket barriers. The wait for the lifts in Covent Garden station was up to an hour - (non UK readers, the only alternative exit is up 193 stairs, the depth of a 10-storey building and no small physical challenge). The shops were heaving.. Primark looked like the fucking Somme - minus the mud, but people leaving looked just as dazed. BUT.. by far the biggest shock.. came when we tried to walk through Leicester Square, just after it got properly dark. Re-paving was underway, and the construction barriers created serious bottlenecks where movement slowed to literally feet per minute. In this type of crush, survival mentalities kick in and the atmosphere changes. People shove, jostle, roll their eyes, swear, and make desperate breaks for opportunities to overtake. One of these squeeze-points formed against the outside-dining area of a cafe, which had put up some of those little partitions (like you see in airports) to keep the throng away from a handful of small round tables. One or two people decided to duck through the dining area and hop the fence to save squeezing through. Then five, then ten, then one of the barriers collapsed. Suddenly the whole crowd enveloped the people eating, who couldn't be seen by the crowd behind - the weight of moving people was threatening to sweep the whole cafe - tables, diners and all - off into the night. For all I know, it did. (I'd fucked off quickly... after knocking the barrier over.)

After the ordeal of shopping - what better way to lighten the spirits and clear the mind than by enjoying one of the Capital's famous West-End musicals. It's been a while since I'd been to one, but over the years I've had the privilege of seeing a fair few: Starlight Express, We Will Rock You, Les Miserables, Grease (fell asleep), the Lion King..   they're cool in their own way. If anyone's seen that South Park episode, it's totally like that.

If it wasn't for the fact that Priscilla - Queen of the Desert is based on a movie from 1998, I'd have suspected that it had been written in retaliation against that very episode. My Mum, on the recommendation of several of her friends (but without actually knowing much about the show), took her family of four males (and my sister) to see.. a transvestite cabaret.

I'm no homophobe and can tolerate the banana hammocks, bum-sex jokes and nipple tassels. And the wigs, the rainbows and the glitter. But boy, does this show lay it on thick. There was more male ass-cheek and 80's pop than Abu Ghraib.

(My brothers looked like this for the full 3 hours)

But the WOMEN. Fuuuuuuck. Let it never be said that women are the gentler sex. Mum and Dad got seats nearer the front, where the audience is a bit better behaved.  But in the back row... damn. Fueled by £9 cocktails, ABBA, and an endless stream of 'Urgh.. Men' style comments from a cast of six-packed Chippendales.. anything without a cock to weigh it down was bouncing off the ceiling like a flock of plump, blonde seagulls.
Halfway through the last act, I had to choose between standing up so I could see the stage, or remaining seated with a view of nothing but gyrating, Spanks-clad buttocks. Bless you, ladies. I'll never know what it is about aggressive, flamboyant male homosexuality.. but Lord knows it drives you madder than a fistful of shit.

The show was actually quite good, the band was incredible and everybody was having fun (provided they didn't lose eyes to flying Essex elbows). But the look on my Mum's face when we met her at the exit... torn between the fact that she'd absolutely loved every minute, and the knowledge that she'd unwittingly taken her three sons (and husband) to the gayest show this side of Amsterdam.. was unbelievably priceless.


There's one little anecdote I wanted to share before signing off this.. pretty much a diary post? I guess? As I mentioned in my first installment, a lot of what I'll be talking about is the shit that my mates get up to. Tony - my pet guido - is currently in exams, so I'll have to wait until the weekend for any further insanity to spew from him. But fortunately, I was present for yet another epic moment of quotability this weekend - this time with a friend who's name is so anonymous that I don't even need to alter it for his privacy. We'd gone out for the evening to an awesome new bar called the Lucky Pig, which as a side-note I'd thoroughly recommend.

Putting this bluntly, Tom does two things exceptionally well: Drinking, and chatting up women. Mysteriously, the more he does of the former, the better he gets at the latter. When most people get hammered, they think they're getting increasingly more charming. Tom actually DOES. I have yet to decide whether it's his personality which is intoxicating to girls, or if he's just very good at making sure everybody around him drinks as much as he does. Whichever the case, when in full flow he occasionally delivers some absolute gems.. such as this one.

Note: rather than over-explain this, anyone not familiar with British TV personalities and daytime lifestyle programming, you're not going to get this. Especially you, Tony.

While chatting up a girl who's friend was cock blocking:
Cock-block: [essentially] stop flirting with my friend so much
Tom: don't YOU start playing coy, one of you will be plenty.
Girl: hee hee
Cock-block: [fiddling with his hair] my, don't you have a lovely quiff.. just like Gok Wan
Tom: [without blinking].. Really? Funny you should say that, I was just telling your friend here how good she'd look naked.

Boom.