| It’s just a matter of time until those pasties hit the floor. Just a matter of... oh, sorry! I was just paying attention to the show. I’m Good Listener and tonight I’m in attendance for the Palace Night Club’s presentation of Empire Follies’ Sexy Circus Cabaret. Do you think I look, y’know, pervy, all alone at my own table in a room full of corseted feather-boa wearers? And that’s just the men.
I take some comfort in the fact that the Wayne Newton look-alike seated up front is taking some of the perv heat off Yours Truly. In the washroom earlier he laughed and shook his head while I washed my hands. "Shhish," said he. A Vegas variant of the more commonly uttered "sheesh"? Dunno. Two tall guys then walk in and Newton utters in disbelief, "Short motherfuckers!" Making his grand men’s-room exit, he spots a guy talking on a cellular phone. "Cell phones!" he says, shaking his head and grinning in further disbelief. "Fuff!"
Later on, when that pasty does hit the floor, his head actually caves in, forcing staff to place a small "danger" sign upon his shoulder to warn patrons away from his open neck-hole. A petite someone like the show’s host, a Miss Glass, might slip and fall right in there.
Glass is purported to have broken every part of her body save for a certain lady-part. Hint: rhymes with pie man. But we won’t get into that here. Which I think is her complaint. Anyhoo….
Before I forget to mention it, pasties, aside from being the second most frequent answer (after "making whoopee") on the 1970s smash game show Match Game, are those little sparkly round things that lend boobs (third most popular answer) a discreet bit of cover during burlesque performances.
The show was a bit stilted at first. No pun intended. A fire-twirling stilt-walker lost her pants and hit the floor, flaming sticks and all. All was well again as a cast member piped up, "It’s OK if your pants fall down as long as you’re OK in the end." To that I would add, "It’s OK if your head caves in as long as you put up a tiny shoulder-sign warning patrons not to venture too close to the pit."
Dimitri, "Canada’s only male burlesque dancer," performed a powder-faced soft-shoe strip routine.
Next, comedian Cliff Nesteroff took the microphone. "I wish you guys could see what’s going on backstage. It looks like the shittiest high school drama class ever." He was rewarded for his insolence with a dose of feedback, but took it in stride. "I do a lot of shitty comedy shows. As you can tell."
A number of burlesque acts followed, including a captivating dance routine by blond powder-puff Babette La Fave. Although dressed not unlike a French maid, she kept her goodies discreetly hidden during her suggestive routine. Blocks away, in a club called the French Maid, gynecology enthusiasts ordered another round. And isn’t it ironic? Or at least easily mistaken as such? Perhaps there’s a shitty song in this?
Then the pasty twirling heated up. Christine (Tiny) Taylor, wearing a bulbous nightgown and hairnet, slurped a beer and shuffled about. Her act was topped with a demonstration of the effects of extreme g-forces on tassels.
During intermission, a Palace staffer was overheard telling a late-arriving friend, "As far as unpredictability it’s a 10. Everything that could go wrong, has. It’s only a matter of time before they set the stage on fire."
He’s proven eerily prescient. "If you don’t start to acknowledge the hilarity," shouted "comedian" Shecky Grey, minutes later, "I’m going to go backstage and set the place on fire myself!"
Then, like the guy that crossed a tobacco plant with a tomato, Lola Lush crossed pasties with fire. That’s science and, as such, I can applaud it, right?
"Satan" the hand puppet confided to the audience that hell’s soundtrack "is generally CBC chamber music," and that "all the couches are Ralph Klein." And isn’t it ironic that I quit watching Question Period for those very reasons?
As I watch the big finish, two corseted women vigorously leap and bound. And, you guessed it, they’re wearing pasties. And, you guessed it, just as in every burlesque performance I’ve ever seen – uh, which is hardly any, in fact, this is my first, really – two hit the floor, unable to cling to their jiggling charges. And Newton’s head implodes.
All in all, it’s been a very entertaining evening. But there’s one thing I’m wondering: Do these bulging eyeballs make me look pervy? |
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