THEGAYUK

Author: Thabian Sutherland

  • Three things to remember if you’re going to wear flip flops

    We’re all sticking to our knickers, the sun has come out to play and your plates-of-meat want to follow suit. You’ve put away your brogues, Converse and winklepickers – it’s the season to let your tootsies see some light. Out come the Havie’s, Prada sandals and the good old faithfuls, Muji flip-flops.

    Three things to remember if you're going to wear flip flops

    Your extremities are on display for all to see – basic grooming is essential so as not to repulse or alarm friends or potential mates with your unkept talons.

    Here are three tips for you chaps:

    1) Pterodactyl toes are a big no-no

    If your toenails are longer than Caitlyn Jenner’s manicure, and you can not only scratch an itch on your chin, but clamber to the top of the Shard with said sharp appendages – get ya arse down to the reptile department at London Zoo. One of the keepers, shears in hand, will make light work of your prehistoric claws.

    2) Smooth away crusty heels and flaky paws

    If your feet look like you’ve been trekking up and down the Pyrenees barefoot for three months, and your heels have more cracks than Greece’s economy – not to mention the built-up dry skin that would make a rhinoceros’s feet seem velvety – book an emergency appointment at your local chiropodist. Failing that, nip down to B&Q and grab some heavy-duty sandpaper.

    3) Say goodbye to hairy hobbit hooves

    If you’re sporting more hair on your tootsies than your head, and you’d have breezed an audition for Lord of the Ring’s trilogy with ya plates-of-meat alone – it’s time to de-fuzz. Wax, shave or Veet: Middle-earth feet aren’t a look for any summer.

    Peddyliscious feet mean more toe sucking, tootsies rubs and dazzling plates-of-meat.

     

  • 3 survival tips for first dates

    First dates are much like The Kooples’ mid-season sale – it’s never certain you’ll be taking something home.

    Whether you were squiffed out of your brain and sucked faces with a hottie while throwing shapes at East Bloc and swapped numbers, or, you woke up to discover a mystery chap in ya boudoir after a Cinzano-fuelled bender and feel the need to meet again. Or a pal has the perfect match for you and sets up a blind date. And let’s not forget Grindr, Tinder, or Scruff to name but a few.

    1) Two-drink rule

    Never meet for dinner on the first date – drinks only. If you’re staring into the eyes of Ryan Gosling and your sides hurt from his witty repartee – great, go and fill ya Paul Smith dip-dyed black-leather Claude-boots. You don’t want to be stuck in a situation where your date is as scintillating as Lewis Hamilton and you have to painfully watch him devour a couple of courses before you can scarper. Buy a round each, then off you toddle.

    2) Have an early morning excuse up your sleeve

    Nowadays, with smartphones, everyone’s David Bailey. You can filter, crop and enhance any snap taken on your iPhone or Android. A lot of men seem to have mastered this art: you think you’re meeting David Gandy and you end up sitting opposite David Hasselhoff. So come prepared for such a situation. If you’re faced with the Hoff, drop into the conversation early on that you’ve an important dawn’s crack meeting, a 7 AM military-style personal training session or you’re having your genital warts removed first thing. The two-drink rule, then you’re out of there.

    3) Finishing the job properly

    You’ve executed the two-drink rule, the blind date organised by your chum wasn’t your cup of Manuka honey and Rooibos, and said date has a twitch in is trousers every time he thinks about you. After the night in question arrives the text: “Great to meet you, let’s do it again.” If you’re not interested, don’t string him along with ambiguous messages – and certainly never ignore, that’s just rude. A simple few words: “Lovely to meet you, you’re a really nice guy, but for me, no chemistry – have fun at your second-cousin-twice-removed’s wedding x”.

    Job done.

    Follow these three and you’ll avoid long evenings better spent watching QVC, plucking your nose hair or texting guys you don’t really fancy because your Grindr’s gone quiet.

  • Three things you need to do if you move in with your boyfriend

    The concept of nesting with your long term boyf can be about as appealing as being stranded with Katie Hopkins in Halifax’s ASDA car park.

    gay boys moving in with each other
    CREDIT: Wavebreak Media Ltd bigstock

    Sharing ya feng shui-ed, Versace Barocco gold leaf and Royal Blue wallpapered boudoir on a permanent basis. Coming home to that bouncy and easily excitable person every night. And of course dividing the responsibility for buying the loo-roll, Lurpack and lube. The colour can drain from a relationship quicker than a pair of over-washed Primark jeans.

    Once you’ve stumbled across that compatible stud-muffin and Cupid’s arrow has been firmly wedged deep inside your person – living together is inevitable for most.

    Here are three tips from an experienced nester six months in.

    1) When your 70 squid pot of face firming cream gets mistaken for Anusol, look on the bright side. It’ll be a smoother ride for you in the long run.

    2) Bottom burps can lift spirits at dawn’s crack. If your partner lets a cheeky one slip first thing, don’t curl your toes in repulsion. Embrace said puff and giggle away your morning blues.

    3) Hire a cleaner.

    Take these three gems onboard and look forward to a more harmonious, homo home life.

  • 10 of the worst AF pieces of relationship advice ever given

    When it comes to love, lust and relationships of all forms, it can seem like you’re lost in a darkroom. We all need the occasional nudge, pull or poke in the right direction.

     

    You might run a multi-billion pound conglomerate, command an army-like workforce, or parade your beautifully ripped, baby smooth torso behind a bar while pulling pints in Soho. But when it comes to matters of the heart or ya lunchbox, logic can dwindle away quicker than Nick Clegg’s popularity.

    So, you turn to your fruit flies, closest gay chums and family members – your confidants for guidance.

    But no one’s perfect, even your bestie can lean you towards a Roberto Cavalli, over-embellished multicoloured-silk shirt when all you really needed was a Tom Ford, classic-fit high-collar stand-barrel-cuffed.

    THEGAYUK asked ten gay men and one lady – who says she’s practically a gay man – what’s the worst relationship advice they have ever received. Here’s what our boys, and girl, had to say:

    Jack Rigby, 22, Junior Architect
    ACT ELUSIVE

    “A hot guy who rode motorbikes asked me out in Uni. Being the blushing virgin I was, I hadn’t a clue how to play the situation. I asked my best girlfriend at the time for advice. She told me to tone it down and act mysterious. I never saw him again.”

    Michael Bates, 46, Property Developer
    FOLLOW THE RULES

    “My memory of the worst relationship advice relates back to a period in the late nineties. There was a book called The Rules, which my straight friends read to help with their relationships. The book gave a series of guidelines in creating a relationship. For example, if a potential partner rang you for a date, then the rule was that you only rang him back after 3 days to confirm. For me ‘The Rules’ was disastrous. Quite frankly, it was ‘a crock of shit’. It taught me that there are no rules. Just be you – just be yourself.”

    Roy Hollywood, 53, Music Teacher
    SHARE YOUR FANTASIES

    “My worst relationship advice: Share your secret fantasies with your partner. Dreadful advice – they’re secret for a reason – keep them bottled up.”

    Marc Davies, 29, Advertising
    BREAK IT OFF

    “Worst advice I ever had was from one of my best friends, who flat out said: ‘break up with him’. This was only a few months into the relationship. I didn’t, and we worked through it. Honesty, and speaking about your problems can fix a lot. Don’t run. We ended up together for over three years. The actual break-up is another story.“

    Gregory Gerot, 37, COO Broad Group International Consulting
    SEX IS NOT IMPORTANT

    “I was having a few issues with my partner. One night outside a nightclub my friend said ‘Darling, I know you love him but you need to have an open-relationship if you want it to work’. I didn’t take the advice. Five years later and we’re still together and happier then ever.”

    Adrian Moore, 52, Funeral Director
    PROPOSE DRUNK

    “The worst advice I received was a few years ago, from an extremely frustrated individual: sex is not that important”.

    Steve Braganca, 38, Project Manager
    WRITE A LIST OF PROS AND CONS

    “I was going out with a really nice guy, but there were a few issues. I was young (and stupid) and was advised to write a pro’s and con’s list about each other and discuss it over a drink. He stood me up and texted later saying the list showed all my negatives and couldn’t be arsed to see me again. Lesson, never write a pros and cons list.”“‘Also, with a different guy, I was advised to ‘play games’ and ignore his calls and texts to make myself appear less keen. It didn’t work, as he became less interested and accused me of playing games.”

    Lee Brobson, 24, Optical Consultant
    DRINK… LOTS

    “I didn’t know how to act around my new boyf. My close friend told me to become a drunken mess and go wild so he’ll know what to expect. It didn’t last long – funny that.”

    Girish Divan, 39, London Fire Brigade
    OPEN UP YOUR RELATIONSHIP

    “My boyfriend’s best friend convinced me to propose when I was drunk last year at his birthday.”

    Michael Woodhead, 30, MI Web Developer
    DATE LOTS OF PEOPLE

    “A friend told me to date lots of men at the same time, because it stops you from focusing on one person. If one goes quiet, you’ve got other options. For me, I found this didn’t work. I kept making comparisons, I stopped putting in any effort and never really got to know any of them.”

    Nina Bass, 42, Healthcare PR – practically a gay man
    ONLY MARRY THEM IF YOU WANT TO TEAR OFF THEIR CLOTHING EVERYDAY

    “As I stood meringue-clad facing my imminent husband-to-be at the altar, the kind, rather nasal vicar proffered his number one golden rule for any couple; ‘never go to sleep on an argument.’ Wise words but not what he should have said. He should have asked; are you madly, passionately in love with this man? Does the ground move when he walks into a room? Do you want to rip off all his clothes and run out the church together? Sadly, an acrimonious and lengthy divorce followed.”

    We can all learn from the above. Trust your gut, and never propose after a skinful.

  • 7 amazing things about gay men and their girlfriends

    Gay men and women have played together since before Barbie and anal beads were invented.

    There are the girls you don’t speak to or hangout with every week but you consider them your good pals. And there’s the ladies you can’t get off the blower. They’re glued to your Dsquared2, black leather biker jacket sleeve, and they fill in the gaps when there’s no love interest – your fruit fly, fag hag queen bee, flame dame or fairy princess.

    Both have expectations!

    The female friends you don’t see often.

    Plus one

    When said friend is invited to a wedding, bar mitzvah or social engagement you might be summoned to fill in as her plus one if she’s single. Be prepared to be dropped quicker than a bag of Whole Foods organic yams if she lays her hands on a ripped, Brazilian cage fighter.

    Entertainer

    Your scintillating repartee is one of the reasons she adores you, and why you’re invited to most of her soirees. You’re cheaper than a magician.

    Sex advice

    Who needs Cosmopolitan magazine for sex advice. You know how to handle said tool and you own one.

    Advice

    You’re her agony aunt. All gays are good listeners and they give the best advice.

    The fully-fleged gay boy loving gals

    All of the above plus extras.

    Plus one extra…

    Your fruit fly will want to be invited to the opening of your sock drawer as well as a heavy, disco-ball-swinging night out at G-A-Y.

    Number one

    She’ll assume she’s your number one girl and should be made a priority in all situations. She could turn from pretty, perfectly preened princess into grouchy, green-eyed gremlin if this doesn’t happen.

    Unrequited love

    Gay boy loving gals require the same reassuring belly tickles, pettings and cuddles as your prized cockapoo.

    But let’s face it chaps, when the glass slipper is on the other immaculately pedicured tootsie, we demand just as much, probably more. We’re just a grand piano minus the candelabra without them.

    Thank Liza for all our female chums.

    Opinions expressed in this article may not reflect those of THEGAYUK, its management or editorial teams. If you’d like to comment or write a comment, opinion or blog piece, please click here.

  • REVIEW | The Luggage Room at the Grosvenor Square Hotel

    Pre-WW2 Grosvenor Square (GS) was considered one of the four most uber-cool hangouts in the Old Smoke – receiving its name from the reigning Duke of Westminster (1700-32) Sir Richard Grosvenor, who kicked off the square’s construction around 1721.

    Hero Image cropped

    In the 1920s GS was a playground for the ‘Bentley Massive’: Tim Birkin, Bernard Rubin, Woolf Barnato and Glen Kidston. The quartet hogged the south-eastern corner of said square, neighbouring each other in separate gaffs. Bon viveuring was high on the sports-car-lovers agenda – the Bentley boyz all-day soirees and shindigs became renowned – booze was guzzled like that of Mercer Series 5 Raceabout’s engine, with no finishing line in sight.

    We owe thanks to The Duchess of Bedford’s hearty appetite for the Low Tea Movement – tucking into a biscuit or two, served on a low table, to keep her ‘strength up’ before supper soon caught on.

    The Grosvenor Square Hotel, GS, is home to the decedent Luggage Room, a speakeasy-esque bar that feels like you’re imbibing aboard the Titanic but with the same interior and tailoring as the exterior of a Louis Vuitton trunk. We were very much at home.

    It was a roaring welcome to the roaring 20s style establishment – as soon as we parked our derrières we were offered: Punch a la Romaine: Champagne and Romaine sorbet, plantation 5yr fresh ginger extract. Fresh lemon juice, House made lemon sherbet, egg white built and served up, at £14. The zing and zest from the sherbet and lemon juice hits you first, beautifully softened by the egg white and champagne, all merged with a ginger undertone. An acceleration to fifth gear – scrumptious.

    Low Tea, means tea – so tea, is what we had. We shared a Lapsang Souchong: think log-fires, grandad’s pipe and that time you snogged a cigar smoker. A bit like ferret legging, not for everyone, but for those that do – a huge amount of pleasure. Now stocked in our office. As well as: China White Monkey: a light and delicate bouquet of freshly cut lemongrass infused with dainty floral flavours – pleasant.

    The alluring array of savoury and sweet delicacies was served in a prohibition era, American medical box – all adding to the 20s eroticism.

    Ours for the taking: Pickled New Forrest Mushrooms, Thyme, Crème Fraiche Tarts – a decent crunch to buttery pastry, the herb, creme and shrooms worked. H Foreman & Sons Smoked Eel, Horseradish, Crème Fraiche Vol Au Vent – as eels go, this slippery sucker had it goin’ on – lacking that metallic taste (that’s a good thing) the fishy flavour is complemented with a gentle punch from the horseradish – all fused by the crème.

    Devonshire Wild Boar Sausage Roll, Tiptree Grain Mustard – we have a #winner (emoji: smiley-face wavy-hands). Hummmm – yum scrum. Beats those of Maltby St Market. Quality sausage – who doesn’t like one of those? Lyburn Smoked Cheddar & Sage Scone, Spiced Pear Chutney. The cheese notes pulled through but a tad dry – the mild, but bursting with pear-power, chutney made up for it.

    Devilled Balmoral Venison, Free range Clarence Court Scotch Egg. On par with Mac & Wild’s – if you haven’t tried Mac & Wild’s wares yet; stop reading this and immediately book a table – you neanderthal. My deers, egg-cellent. “Luggage Room Signature” Tea-Cured Salmon by H Foreman & Sons, Caviar. Pure class on a white ceramic spoon – the fish eggs popped salty gorgeousness seconds after touching the tongue, lifting the salmon to another seafood taste level.

    To wash down the mini puds we were steered in the direction of Jack Rose (“You jump, I jump remember?”): Laid’s Applejack, House-made Grenadine, fresh lime juice, nutmeg shaken and served at £14. Cranberry in colour with ripe apple aromas – not even an iceberg could sink this beverage – an undercurrent of spice and hints of citrus kept all afloat.

    Next up: Luggage Room Limited Edition Plantation Rum Syllabub – neither a mousse, crème or parfait – room temperature, creamy and airy with a strong orange current, quite unique – superb. Tiptree Tawny Marmalade infused Carrot Cake – steam pudding moist but without the residue – laced with sweet-carroty-goodness – (emoji: thumbs up). Classic Victoria Sponge – the late Queen would’ve been chuffed: sponge, jam and cream – nothing went wrong. Neat.

    IMG_2078

    As well as Tiptree Jarred Scone Trifle. This deconstruction malarkey – in France you can now buy steak tartare in a can, from a vending machine! Anyways, this spoon full of – a lot of sugar – did not help the medicine go down. Too sweet – not toot sweets, different film – an overload of sickly cream. And to finish us off: Salted Caramel Meringue. Think French macaroons – crisp, honeyed and sugary with a smidge of seasoning – oui oui oui.

    Bentleys, Vuitton cases and buoys are not required – you won’t wanna jump overboard. Appetites – not dissimilar to that of The Duchess of Bedford’s, a good palate and your manners (the service is exceptional), are.

    Low Tea £48

    The Luggage Room
    Grosvenor Square
    London
    W1K 6JP
    Book: http://luggageroom.co.uk/bookings/
    T: 0207 493 1232 E: info@luggageroom.co.uk

    Opening times: Low Tea. Wednesday – Saturday from 12.00, last sitting 15.00 – Low Tea. Sunday 12:00 – 17:00. The Bar. 17.00 till late

  • THEATRE REVIEW | Bitches Ahoy!, Above The Stag

    THEATRE REVIEW | Bitches Ahoy!, Above The Stag

    ★★★★ | Bitches Ahoy! : Above The Stag

    Batten down the hatches, all hands on your AussieBums, and anchors – prudes advised to stay on dry land – aweigh.

    Bitches Ahoy review
    CREDIT: Above The Stag

    Gareth, Max and Fat Pam set sail for a new adventure on the Mediterranean awash with a couple of love interests in close-quarters.  This is up-and-coming Playwright Martin Blackburn’s second production – an all-at-sea sequel to Aright Bitches! – and in Blackburn’s previous style: pummelled with more innuendos than a Navy Officer in the engine room after six months at sea.

    Buoyant party-buoy Gareth (Ethan Chapples) is holibobing with new squeeze Drew (Chris Clynes), and giving monogamy a stern-go onboard a queer cruise with two thousand homo-hotties – will either walk the plank of infidelity?  Nothing’s ever plain-sailing on this ship.

    Max has embarked on a new career as a cabin boy with a firm eye in every porthole and a love/hate taste for his surroundings. Pam (Hannah Vesty) has harpooned the Moby of all Dicks and flaunts new French fiancé Patrice (Simon Burr) from port to starboard causing a splash with the whole crew’s rudders. Straight guy aboard a gay cruise – what could possibly come adrift?

    Blackburn clearly knows how to quill a boat-rocking quip, but on this voyage, some of the jokes were washed ashore unnoticed, mainly due to the delivery.

    Come aboard this vessel for cock-capers, tampon-tomfoolery and to catch a glimpse of Pam wet wiping her lady bits.  This is a camp factor 50 with the potent UVAs radiating from Vesty and Chapples  – giving you the Jolly Rogers and the January blues the heave-ho.

     

    Bitches Ahoy is at Above The Stag Theatre until 26th February

  • THEATRE REVIEW | Charming Dick

    THEATRE REVIEW | Charming Dick

    ★★★ | Charming Dick

    Christmas wouldn’t be Christmas without a couple of cut-price synthetic-fibre-clad drag queens, a Eurovision medley, and a huge sack full of festive double entendres and innuendos – we at THEGAYUK can’t wait for Kris Kringle to cum down our chimney – falalalala la la la la.

    Producer Catia Ciarico and The Royal Vauxhall Tavern’s production of Charming Dick has more puns than letters to Santa requesting penis pumps. If you’ve a penchant for musical theatre, know your way around a winklepicker-tapping Dolly Parton number and the melody to ‘Money Money Money’ sends your baubles into a figgy-pudding frenzy, then this should be right up your North Pole.

    Charming Dick is a posing-pouch-packed with everything an adult yuletide panto should be, audience participation – “oh yes there is”. A Twankey (Tim McArthur), a wicked witch (Matthew Floyd), a prince (Stewart Briggs) a Little Red Riding Hood/blind mouse/chem-sex party fag-hag (Abigail Carter-Simpson) and of course, a Big Dick (Ali Frederick). Imagine Westminster City Council as the witch, then you’ve got the Noel narrative.

    Not every scene was like skating around the rink at Somerset House, a few of the lines took the same route as the lemon does with the Turkey on the nut-cracking day, and the ‘Twelve Day Of Christmas’ almost got lost in a snow-hole – but it all added to the jingle-belling jollity. Any mince pie indulgence from the derrieres-on-seats would have been worked off with the continuous guffaws.

    This is a stuffer for your stocking, a trimming for your tree, full of festive vulgarity – head to the Cockpit Theatre and we hope you ‘Oh Cum All Ye Faithful’.

    If we gave halves – we’d give three-and-half.

    The Cockpit Theatre, Gateforth Street, London NW8 8EH
6 – 23 December 2016 | Doors at 7pm, show at 8pm 
£16 (adv), £18 (on the door), £12 (conc) | www.thecockpit.org.uk | | 020 7258 2925

  • THEATRE REVIEW | The HIV Monologues

    THEATRE REVIEW | The HIV Monologues

    ★★★★★ | The HIV Monologues

    The HIV monologues review
    CREDIT: Dionysis Livanis

    From AIDS to PrEP: Love, Sex & HIV

    If you met a moreish specimen of a man on Grindr, in Rupert St Bar or at a friend’s gatherette and there was immediate trouser-twitching, shimmies to the heart department and your thoughts turned towards naming your first pair French bulldogs – but then, after some time into this meet, said hottie informs you he’s HIV positive – do you know how you’d react?

    Marking twenty years since life-saving HIV medication was introduced to the UK, Patrick Cash has penned a very real production that will send sparks to your neurons, pricking your nervous system: a trio of scenarios that are entwined together touching on the effects of HIV in the 80s up until the current day.

    Alex (Denholm Spurr) – a Labrador puppy intermixed with a male cheerleader with obtuse understanding of the immune-attacking virus – struggles with the idea of being close to someone who’s positive, and barely has enough shrapnel to buy even the smallest tube of lube.  The out-of-work actor gets himself into a sticky situation with the truth.

    Lack of knowledge inflames fear, but understanding can provoke the guardian in all of us.  Irene’s (Charly Flyte) journey nursing AIDS patients is moving and compelling.  Barney (Jonathan Blake – one of the first people to have been diagnosed with AIDS in the UK) learns to live with the deficient insight with HIV in the 80s – a convincing performance.

    A Thunder Looper of emotions: stigma, humour, shame and love – some well-directed tandem acting by Luke Davies – a challenging subject to cover – executed well.

    Two new dates at the King’s Head Theatre as part of their World AIDS Day weekend 20th and 21st November.

  • THEATRE REVIEW | Hotel For Criminals, New Wimbledon Studio

    ★★★ | Hotel for Criminals

    PR Supplied

     

    Hotel for Criminals is a reworking of Louis Feuillade’s silent film Phantasmagoria – Director Patrick Kennedy’s adaptation of Richard Foreman’s musical went the other way and implements a form of Chinese torture, attempting to impair the audience’s eardrums sixteen times in the form of a deafening hand pump emergency horn buzzer. Nodding off isn’t an option.

    You’ll be transported to a perverted French realm where sense has no bearing – a concoction of Mary Poppins’ Chim-Chim-Cheree with more of an Elvira approach, thrown together with a clown-style Night of the Living Dead meets Dracula – guided through by creepy narrator.

    Betwixt the chess-piece mobile, camp whirling walks of terror, a journo’s nuptials, vampire blood-supping, dead-pan humour, a hit-and-jaunt and a foreboding big black bird are some ghoulishly good musical numbers and spanking face-painted blood suckers: masters of their craft. Warning: Kate Baxter’s (Irma Vep) chilling vocals and the live band could possess – don’t forget your crucifix.

    Not everyone should check into Hotel For Criminals: you’ve got to have the right constitution for this sort of chaos, riddledom and buzzer torment – get clearance from your parole officer first.

     

    Hotel For Criminals plays at New Wimbledon Studio from 18-29 October

     

  • THEATRE REVIEW | Moby Dick! The Musical

    ★★★★ | You don’t have to be a fan of aquatic placental spout-squirting marine mammals to appreciate Andrew Wright’s take on Moby Dick – but a penchant for choreography that could power a fleet of trawlers, an affection for Glee-style musical numbers and an esteem for the male form, in two beautiful varieties, will help you stay afloat.

    St. Godley’s Academy for Young Ladies are in a bit of financial bother. Headmistress (X Factor’s Anton Stephans) decides to stage a musical version of Herman Melville’s classic novel Moby Dick to keep the shark from the porthole. Think St. Trinian’s meets Peter Pan with a wave of Carry on Cruising – Ofsted would have an algae-ridden-seabed day.

    In amongst the spot-light rivalry, over-the-blouse gropes, double entendres, an inappropriate use of a ruler, African jigs, amateur projector marine displays, dark angel trolly dashes, Sinitta (probably just because it was press night), the occasional can-can and a male striptease – in amongst the pandemonium of jollity is a cast humpbacked-full of enthusiasm, each sperming their own individual clicks, pulses and whistles.

    Ishmael (Rachel Anne Rayham) would give a chorus of orcas a swim for their money with her compelling vocal cords. Anton’s animated boat-race did him no favours with Mr Cowell but worked superbly spurting life into the Headmistress and Ahab. And Glen Facey’s pirouettes, fouettés and fish dives were executed without so much as a splash.

    School uniform isn’t mandatory, and you may be encouraged to dance with the Head, but there’s no Moby about enjoying this Dick – it’s a sure thing.

    Wednesday 12th October – Saturday 12th November 2016 Tuesday to Sunday, 7.30pm
Saturday and Sunday matinees, 2.30pm

    Union Theatre, 204 Union Street, London SE1 0LX – phone: 020 7261 9876

    Tickets are available starting at £15

    Book: www.uniontheatre.biz