Sunday 7th December 2014

As I’m sure you’ve heard Lord Arrowby is trying to save the Royal Vauxhall Tavern. It’s threatened by developers. This is his greatest mission, far greater at the moment than running the country, which he does during the day-time.

He begged me to attend David Hoyle’s final Terrorist Cabaret there, the week before last. It was the same day as I lunched at the Garrick Club, or perhaps the day before. Even so what scope! Is anyone going to re-develop the Garrick Club?

I squeezed into the packed but threatened Royal Vauxhall Tavern. Inside it’s all black with a hint of plush and gilt mirrors and not in the slightest bit finished. It might all have been flung together with poster paint. It’s a stage-set, the whole place. On the actual puppet-show-type performance platform, the Cabaret was already underway, in the form of a terrifying denouncement of money, power, business, capitalism, the whole modern world as commonly known, which is what endangers the Royal Vauxhall Tavern. The speaker was in a gown by Rick Owens (well, he sells at H Nicks) with face taken off and put back on again in the wrong places: David Hoyle himself, a witch (as he self-described). Nervous breakdown was surely in the offing and I believe periodically is achieved. A grim woman in a headscarf and sensible shoes was most reluctant to read her poem but eventually did. I seemed to have blanked from memory its precise subject but it was shocking beyond belief. Then appeared Dusty Edge, a pretty young man and wonderful support to the witch with wrong face apparently. Dusty was very knowing and sang an extended ballad about old people: ‘So you’ve had a fall/Well, what were you doing standing up at all’. It was unbelievably bitter and ironic and devastating. Dusty is interested in suicide and politics. Goodness knows where they all live, the witch, Dusty Edge and the Poet Lady, and what shopping they do. I was beginning to feel that they would tear me to shreds with their bare teeth if they were to know of my outlook and minor monied position. The witch sang some more songs, sometimes breaking down completely in the middle and shouting at the air-conditioning, which was a noisy fan. In between she praised the pulpating heart of humanity, the great queer identity and artistry and savaged middle-class people who imagine they’re edgy but phone Mummy to pick them up. The finale was her singing ‘Maybe One Day’ to the tune of an MRI scanning machine, which is the most awful noise as you probably know.

You might think this kind of thing is something of a throwback but there was a huge audience, much of it young. On the whole I do agree: let’s not be mainstream and established and normal and let Lord Arrowby, who throbs at the heart of the Establishment by day, lead the Royal Vauxhall Tavern and all it stands for to salvation.

Lord Arrowby in Evening Wear: a Mini-Dress by Raf Simons and trews by Dries in Blood-Orange

Lord Arrowby’s Mini-Dress by Raf Simons

David Hoyle, as a Pagan Witch, in a Gown by Rick Owens

Dusty Edge: Politics and Suicide

Dusty and David: Anti-Performance of a Song

David Painted a Picture of a Member of the Audience While Singing a Song. The Canvas was Held up by Porn Star, Ashley Ryder