Boy, did I make a mistake. Fervent Arcatistes will recall my dyspeptic review of the Parkin Lot at the Green Carnation club in Greek Street a few weeks back. Why I do this sometimes I’m not sure; it must be hormonal or I'm mentally ill as some old cunt obituarist on The Times once suggested to me ...
Well, I returned last night to the club with a friend and had a splendiferous evening dancing with Molly and an assortment of females of a certain age as well as other types and vintages and male types and the odd Thalidomide shemale. I love Thalidomides, don't you?
Molly and I are now virtually lovers.
It was all I could to do not to undress the turbaned beauty on the dance floor. But I’m not given to hysterical effusion as I have a very vivid imagination. It’s most important to internalise such impulses in order to build a rich mulch of sublimated and creative energy for the purposes of novel writing and other hobbies. Mental restriction and frustration are crucial to make-believe and credible diary keeping.
Daughter Sophie played some very good dance music, not all of it from Cilla Black’s origin (have you noticed people write origin for original now?) era. Molly showed me around saying: “THIS is Madame Arcati.” People stood about awe-struck trying to reconcile the idea of a theatrical legend in her dotage with the sheer, vivid corporeal reality and stunning gorgeousness before them: I am sure people were wondering about me but at the Green Carnation just about anything goes, including frotteurism (look it up idlers!). At some point I delivered a speech to some wonderful laydeez while they fanned their steaming pudenda and they looked up at me as if I were giving head to a Barbie Doll. I may as well have done. But of course I don’t do that sort of thing.
I can’t rave about the Parkin Lot enough. It’s simply fucking fantastic (quote me on the posters if you like). You feel as if you could have sex anywhere there though you don’t, but the thought counts.
Tuesdays. Be there.
Frotteurism. It's the future.
Well, I returned last night to the club with a friend and had a splendiferous evening dancing with Molly and an assortment of females of a certain age as well as other types and vintages and male types and the odd Thalidomide shemale. I love Thalidomides, don't you?
Molly and I are now virtually lovers.
It was all I could to do not to undress the turbaned beauty on the dance floor. But I’m not given to hysterical effusion as I have a very vivid imagination. It’s most important to internalise such impulses in order to build a rich mulch of sublimated and creative energy for the purposes of novel writing and other hobbies. Mental restriction and frustration are crucial to make-believe and credible diary keeping.
Daughter Sophie played some very good dance music, not all of it from Cilla Black’s origin (have you noticed people write origin for original now?) era. Molly showed me around saying: “THIS is Madame Arcati.” People stood about awe-struck trying to reconcile the idea of a theatrical legend in her dotage with the sheer, vivid corporeal reality and stunning gorgeousness before them: I am sure people were wondering about me but at the Green Carnation just about anything goes, including frotteurism (look it up idlers!). At some point I delivered a speech to some wonderful laydeez while they fanned their steaming pudenda and they looked up at me as if I were giving head to a Barbie Doll. I may as well have done. But of course I don’t do that sort of thing.
I can’t rave about the Parkin Lot enough. It’s simply fucking fantastic (quote me on the posters if you like). You feel as if you could have sex anywhere there though you don’t, but the thought counts.
Tuesdays. Be there.
Frotteurism. It's the future.
Click here for club details. It's at 5 Greek St, Soho. Tel 020 7434 3323.
24 comments:
`frotteuring` in my neck of the woods (being suburban rather than West End) is more commonly known as groping and highly illegal. Sounds fun ! Sooty looks forward to it.
Is it a club for gerontophiliacs? I've been looking for one for some time.
Well, I would say it's for philiacs; the geronto is optional. Actually it was a very mixed night - 18 to 90-plus year-olds. Age is certainly not a big issue there. Come and meet Madame Arcati with Molly. I have propsoed marriage to her and I await a reply. Perhaps you could marry us Lavinia before a shag with a 20 year-old perv.
It sounds an absolute den of iniquity. Where did you say it is?
Give Sooter to me now. I want Sooter.
Language Madame! When you use rude words it becomes difficult for me to read your blog at work safely. Do you want to get me sacked? I was at the Green Carnation last night and I think I spotted this bizarre creature giving a lecture to a bunch of pensioners sitting in in a square. I thought for a moment you were conducting a seance. It was hard to tell. However, it is as you say an entertaining place and I'm taking some friends next week. I have never had a sexual experience there, incidentally.
How old is Molly? And what colour is her hair?
her pubic hair is blue-rinse
<< I was at the Green Carnation last night and I think I spotted this bizarre creature giving a lecture to a bunch of pensioners sitting in in a square. >>
Hmmmm, hahaha! Could you elaborate, please ? Particularly on "this bizarre creature"... Oh tabernak, I am eaten with curiosity ! ;-)
Why would old age women pensioners be at a London gay club? Perhaps they'd come up from Worthing on the coach to see The Phantom of the Opera. Instead, the poor ducks were misdirected and were treated to a private show of The Phantom of the Arcati.
Duralex asks me to describe the exotic creature seen talking to a group of elderly women at the club. It woudn't be fair to say too much, and I'm sure Madame would censor me, but all I can say is that Molly stood next to someone who looked like a refugee from a The Lord of the Rings movie, in some get-up that Christopher Lee wears as Saruman. With feathers. And streamers. I can say no more. (There was a mystery person near the couple who may have been with Madame. He caused quite a stir among the octogenarians while Madame seemed to amuse them. Madame's friend is quite a well-known figure in London clubland, I am told)
Nicky Haslam?
Oh boy! As I couldn't read more than twenty pages of Tolkien, didn't see the LOTR movies, and do not intend to, no matter how much I'm paid for it, I'm not enlightened in the slightest. Thank you, anyway. At least your description gives me a vague notion of how exotic and eccentric Madame must be. So British ! I like it. I always had a thing for buffoons.
I think the "mystery person" by Madame was the "lover"
As one of the "laydeez" addressed by yourself I have to say I didn't hear a word you said such was the volume of the music. However I think I can say with some certainty that we were all rather taken by the theatricality of your mime show with Molly by your side. We were also most fascinated by your later activties on the dance floor. Certainly it was an education for some of my friends.
To the person who suggested we were misdirected there en route to The Phantom of the Opera "from Worthin", nothing is further from the truth. Molly invited us and it was great fun. And I live in Essex. But I don't think even Molly expected you and your friend to turn up the way you did.
What's this all about?
I finally went to the Green Carnation thurs 2nd october. Arcati, you should've been there... you'd have had Nicky in a corner all to yourself.
F x
Fish! To think our ships came so close. Do you think Nicky would have launched a savage attack on me for any perceived blogger abuse? I hope not. Madame Arcati is of course a living breathing event with spikes - a bit like Nicky himself. I fear, Fish, you shall turn into a society figure as time passes by. I foresee much victory.
WOW, MA your two reviews are so diametrical opposite they almost seem from two completely different people! I do recall that when I read the first review I was rather surprised of how unkind it seemed (specially taking into account that Ms. Parkin made it a point to send you an e-mail invite). Not only did you snub her for weeks, your response to the sweet lady’s later inquiry (through Sophie) as to why you hadn’t come by seemed rather impersonal and sort of “ I’ll get there when I get there”.
When you finally do make it there, all we read is “… was not entirely impressed.”, “The music is horrible screeching 60s stuff…”, not to mention your description of the crowd (old bags dancing, Hitler Youth look-alikes, a bunch of narcissists who think life started in the mid-80s) your apparent disapproval (prudish?) of people “against the walls snogging and nuzzling and stroking each other's testicles…” as well as observing growing erection bulges… and what to make of your description of the decoration? You said you had been there before at other nights, you couldn’t have been surprised.
Now all this rave about how exciting it was and you seem to be making plans to marry Molly. Think hard MA when you went in there the last time did you hold on to your drink at all times? Do you recall if Molly took you to a room, made you look into a moving spiral, repeatedly and slowly telling you will love the Parkin Lot?
I'm a Gemini dear so must allow for the duality. Mood is a vital component of a party atmosphere so perhaps the first time I went I was simply not in the mood.
It is true Molly has a penetrating gaze and I shall think back on what happened that night I started to rave ...
Madame, I speak cautiously whenever your blog is mentioned! Fear not. He may have been against you once before, but as you know he is not a man to bear a grudge and he does love to be talked about!
If I do become a "society figure" I hope nobody lets me know. I'd quite like to remain oblivious to that sort of label. I am a sociable person, and love a chat... but I am no name-dropping media-whore, and never will be... mostly due to the fact that my head isn't on this planet at all! I was once shown the world seen from the stars that you read, Madame, and I don't believe I've ever fully come back. It's fucking great.
Got dinner somewhere down Cheyene Walk before partay. Finally got outfit together (see my blog for that)... even bought violet Diesel trunks, which are so damn comfy... I want them in every colour! (it was those or pink calvin kleins... but in light of the stress-I mean, dress code, it had to be the Diesels. May post a pic of those on blog later on also.
Now... should I get matching socks? Hmmm...
Lots of love, Madame!
F x
PS: by the by, I'll be back at the Green Carnation 15th November, I think. Will check up on the date. If you're floating around, darling, I'd love to buy you a drink. Trust in my confidentiality ;) xx
No one sets out to be a society figure unless they're deeply saaaaaad: it just happens. I shall see your blog and may post something without giving the game away - matching socks? Only if you're into marriage. MA x
Okay, no to matching socks. Got everything sorted. OMG it's gone midnight. The party is... today. I might scream in a minute. HAHAHAH! The nerves are kicking in, Arcati!
Dear Fish, it will be marvellous - and when it's done you must come back and tell us all about it. X
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