Trade Neon

Juicelog Sun 281007: Taking the clocks back an hour tonight, Marshallmellow and myself went back to 2006 by sleeping in until the early hours of the morning. Forcing our bodies out of bed at 4am we joined the neon freaks at Trade for some super hardcore afterhours madness.

An hour seemed to disappear from this morning’s schedule when our watches froze and stopped ticking. This confusion led to Londan valiantly attempting to look for the missing hour. He searched high (amongst the brick walls) and he searched low (around people’s shoes) but still failed to find our vanished 60 minutes. Possibly one of the best Sungays we have had in ages.

Bouncy Boy joins Le Club

Juicelog Mon 221007: Bobbling along in the cold weather we (Fragiler, Tash and moi) successfully tracked down the Island Queen to congratulate Bouncy Boy. Failing to get pregnant with twins, mother nature gave him a free booby prize by upgrading him into the 30s club.

More X:Periment

Juicelog Sun 211007: Arriving late we missed the warm up DJ’s set and PA act which I was looking forward to. Once again RJ and Johnny pulled out their finger and paintbrushes to give the venue a fresh artistic look. With a change in their DJ rota, the sounds was much more funkier and refreshing tonight.

Reinhard’s Party

Juicelog Sat 201007: With England losing points in the rugby finals, me and Clitty were starting to losing time from our Saturday evening. Late as usual, we made it to Swiss Cottage for Reinhard’s house party.

Failing at being able to drink out his entire champagne cellar we migrated south heading down to Brixton Hill. Part of our journey ended up with some of the rowdy German tweenies from the party. Combined with Sister Clitty we certainly had the loudest carriage.

Jan’s Bidet Bash

Juicelog Sat 201007: Jan has picked up this odd hobby of collecting gays. She has taken to specialising in the antique variety and has accumulated a mammoth collection. Our weekend kicked off with Jan’s yummy homemade birthday cake and her trademark Aspi Spumante cocktail.

Rhinoceros

Juicelog Thurs 181007: David Wantsome is the master of networking and managed to bag himself some tickets for Rhinoceros tonight. Before the start of the show we enjoyed some wine and canapés upstairs. During our brief moment of downloading updates and gossip with each other, we kept getting interrupted by the Royal Court theatre marketing ladies who were discreetly eyeing up potential sponsors. My pre-show was watching David very skillfully ingratiating and introducing himself to the movers and shakers. Now that’s what I call PR.

Rhinoceros has got some clever writing in it. It’s like a warped version of the Incredible Hulk thrown in with some philosophical and fundamentalist ideas written way back in 1959. Featuring Benedict Cumberbatch (whose popularity seems to be growing and growing) playing Monsieur Berenger, it starts off with a hilarious but surreal moment outside a Parisian café when a rhinoceros starts charging through the town square. From this, more characters are thrown in with an interesting technique of layering two conversations simultaneously. Several more glasses of wine and canapés later, the play went into a different direction with a move towards more traditional theatre. It moves from light hearted joviality into a seriously downbeat mood with lengthy monologues as it gears up for a powerful dramatic finale.

Lunchtime chit chat

Juicelog Wed 171007: Paul C. took me out to lunch this afternoon where we had a lengthy chat about the complexities of modern day co-habiting and the way relationships evolve. Within the last few months a few couples within my social network have chosen to go back to the single life again. The impact of this has been playing on my mind quite a bit. Subconsciously I get comfort from knowing couples that have been together for a fair few number of years. In a way it is inspiring to know that long standing homo relationships do work. It makes me feel that one day I could perhaps engage in something of a similar nature. Now that these splits have occurred, I am left with a deep sadness and question marks inside of me.

Boeing Boeing

Juicelog Thurs 111007: What was meant to be a brief 5pm post-occupational drink with Boobita and Fragiler went on for a bit longer than intended. I think it might have been something to do with the lemonade. Or the lime juice. Or even the vodka.

Whatever it was, we arrived a tiny bit late for Boeing Boeing being performed at the Comedy theatre tonight. A 1960�s comedy that is set in Paris based on the love life of the central character Bernard (who is a playboy architect). He achieves this by dating three trolly dollys who work for three different airlines (TWA, Alitalia and Lufthansa). Aided by his housemaid (Bertha) and old Welsh school chum (Robert) you end up with a face paced farce that is amusing even though it perpetuates American, German and Italian sexist stereotypes comically executed by the three air stewardesses (Gloria, Gretchan and Gabriella).

As their timetables begin to collide, you get to see a lot of frantic door slamming in the semi-circled white paneled retro room with accompanying numerous doors. For me the subtle dreariness of Bertha and Robert contrasted well against the three colourful air stewardesses. But if there is one thing that is guaranteed to have you cackling out loud it would be Gretchan�s crass representation of her Germanic character.

Junky JVC

Juicelog Wed 101007: It’s the middle of the week and I’ve elevated myself to being Daddy Dick’s boss by hiring him to help me out with a work video project I’m currently working on.

Thought it was going to be a relatively straight forward task but we had a big major problem when I discovered that the film footage I had was in the wrong format. The video footage I filmed on the poppycock JVC camcorder had to be converted from a MOD to mpeg before we could begin editing. This won’t make sense to many of you, but basically it was like trying to turn a twinky into a leather daddy (as well as being fully proficient in the dungeon room) in the space of one working day.

Federation @ The Warehouse Project

Juicelog Sat 061007: One of my favourite nocturnal entertainment up north is the night that they call Federation. Tonight's theme was grafitti and it all took place at the Warehouse Project which is basically an underground carpark. Police officers and a sniffer dog presence at the entrance was somewhat alarming. The layout of the venue was musically restrictive as the music could only been heard properly in certain parts of the carpark (i.e. the front and middle section). The sound was the usual federation sound. My blue hard hat seemed to amuse a few of the ravers.

Taking things up a notch we went for some ear bleeding banging-ness at Morning Glory. Like a second rate version of Trade, definitely not a disco experience for the light hearted. Luckily I had a Gareth Gates lookalike to keep me company for part of the morning.

Bidet Celebrations – Part Deux

Juicelog Fri 051007: The official end of my bidet took place this weekend in Manchester with some partying clowning around whilst Crazycakes, Mandy, Katie and myself went up to visit chef Londan. Walking through the door we were greeted by his latest culinary effort:

Consuming his home made chicken pie and a swig of cider we sauntered into canal street for a couple of pre-weekend drinks.

The village was surprisingly a bit on the quiet side tonight, but I still managed to bag myself an invitation to preview Mike's snake collection. Disappointingly tthe snakes didn't provide much excitement and so I linked up with the boys back at headquarters. Mandy refused to let us sleep and as we were feeling energised we popped into the basement to chill out before retiring to our beds.

Losing Kevin

Juicelog Wed 031007: A brief glimpse at the weather forecast on the radio and telly tells us that this month we’re in for a bit of shock. Given that the UK people were scammed of a proper summer this year, there will be some unexpected surprises.

Tonight in central London outside the Duke of Wellington pub there was an unbelievable powerful and tenacious cyclone pulling Kevin away from us youngsters (Peter, Robert, Chris, Fragiler and myself). Being the robust anchor of youthfulness, I grabbed onto Kevin and held onto him for as long as I juicily could. Slowly we all got worn out and afflicted as we were tossed around from gay bar to gay bar. Feeling the pains of his caducity, I eventually lost my grip and Kevin got gobbled up into the black hole they call thirty-seven.