Another sign that I'm now a middle-aged gay was spending Saturday afternoon seeing light musical comedy performed by Kit and the Widow. Especially when they were joined by Dillie Keane, aka the smoking ruins of Fascinating Aida.
The idea of the show was simple - three old hands, the Tom Lehrer songbook, a piano, and some bitching. To keep themselves entertained, they'd recruited a forth member, a rather attractive young man called Mark Wolfenden, who spent the entire two hours escaping their predatory clutches... as when Dillie Keane wandered past, patted his hair a little too long, and then walked off, licking her hand.
It was all rather wonderful, in its own subversive way, although the whole thing was stolen by Dillie Keane, who sailed around like a singing Lynda Bellingham. After her breath-taking Basic Instinct homeage, she vanished over the back of a chair and lay there panting. An alarmed Widow ran forward and felt for a pulse. "Quick," he yelled, "Call the national trust."