I survived!
And it was hilarious, fun and somewhat pathetic at the same time.
Tables laid out in Cabaret format. Spoke to the Ladies on the door who relayed my message re crutches etc backstage.
Drag Artist was very good with a nice strong singing voice and some wicked and unrepeatable one liners. Sadly I could not hear or remember half of them as a table full of disrespectful millennials (fuelled by diet Coke) were chatting, taking selfies and regarding him as the warm up act whilst waiting for the strippers.
Now the poster had shown a line up of pretty fit and good looking guys and I was expecting the sort of Full Monty thing done by professionals.
So, what did we get?
Enter Act Number one. “Christian Grey”..... for my English friends, more like Alan Partridge actually or, For the Americans here, “Pete” from Mad Men. Imagine! I
My hips and loins remain unstirred sadly. Two willing ladies agree to kneel either side of him and be blindfolded.
Christian strips down to his underpants and straps on an imitation banana. The ladies are now allowed to touch with their hands..... my friend Fifi and I are having bets about how long the inadequately strapped banana will take to fall off.
“Christian” then proceeds around the room sitting on various laps and squirming - sadly out of time to the pumping bass blasting from the speakers... I am starting to wonder when the Drag Queen will return. “Christian’s” act has lasted about half an hour. Hmmm.
queenie comes back on in a rather fetching white tutu with white diamanté shoes to match. He does another 20 minutes of being the “Front Man” - an uphill struggling manfully against The Millenials, still texting and chatting, and a persistent middle aged lady drunk from Table 1 who keeps running up and accosting him. Fifi and I remark Queenies legs are much more shapely than ours. Bless him.
The lights go up in the unsubtle manner of the last dance at a 70s disco. Gosh! It is the interval.
I see an older man behind the bar... This has to be “Mr Coc”.... I pick up both crutches(for effect) and pick my way very delicately (amongst the splashes of baby oil) to greet him. I thank him kindly for taking my message earlier that day and order some Prosecco. He still hasn’t figured out whether I heard his unguarded comment about following my call. I let him stew about that!
Back in the room a raffle has taken place and the prizes are all wine and Prosecco.
Millenials table count: 20 cans of Diet Coke. Our Table: 8 bottles of Prosecco - and rising steadily.
act 2 starts. And finally another stripper. I have realised by now that sadly, the “Art” of stripping a la Gypsy Rose Lee is long gone. The aim here is for the chap to get his kit off with as little finesse as possible, pick a willing member of the audience and then do something suggestive with a strap on and p, in this case, a can of whipped cream.
Trust me here: I have had FAR more fun with a can of whipped cream with my clothes on!
But, sparing my blushes..... as the Stripper leaves, our long -suffering Queenie comes back on to wind up the evening with some disco.
Suddenly every table erupts and everyone hits the dance floor. Handbags are piled up and danced around in true English tradition. . queenie enters the fun and throws some very impressive moves and even I join in on the crutches swaying to the Bee Gees. I take the trouble to thank the Drag Queen for a great evening. He has worked very hard.
Sadly back on our table a Cat Fight is kicking off. Something about a missing bottle of Prosecco. I haven’t a clue what has been happening but it is all getting a bit screamy so time to go.....
A lot of fun. My hubby also enjoyed his evening at The Sound of Music btw. He had the Good Habits, and I had the Bad. Sounds like the name of an Indie pop. Group!
Iced up and ready for bed. Night..
United States
Saturday - probably not so much 
Now back to increasing length of walks, deciding on walking stick or Leki progressing from crutch and of course WORK looming....
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