Nursing a pint of cider, I have found myself advising a drag king on the appropriate amount of stuffing for their underwear. I am no longer a writer, nor a photographer – I am now, in the words of performer Phillip Phallus, a Codpiece Consultant. It’s a title I neither expected to have nor feel that I deserve, but I’m flattered nevertheless. After debating the size different between trainer and football socks, we agree on a single sock. Two seems like overkill.
The venue for Valley of the Kings is the Quantum Exhibition Centre in the middle of Digbeth – a trek, but worth it regardless (and if you lose your way, just keep an eye out for the ‘Thigh Kingdom Comes’ signs that are dotted along Lower Trinity Street). Advertised by a jaunty geometric sign handcrafted by Kali who runs KUCHE at the Ort Café, the small doors lead you into a towering warehouse ran by the charity Nightlife Outreach, who deal with issues from mental health to homelessness to substance abuse. It’s great knowing that tonight not only are you supporting the performers present, but your well-earned money that you spend on the bar is going towards a great cause too.
I’m ushered into a small room off the main warehouse, in which the crowd are dotted across numerous sofas. Soon, the night is in full swing. First up is Abel Valentine, who struts on to a redubbed version of the Shrek fairy tale narrative, depicting their parent’s horror at giving birth to a “f***ing drag king” before launching into a lip sync to the very apt ‘Gay Bar’ by Electric Six. Capering across the room, they sing into the faces of the audience with glee, grabbing their hands and forcing them to dance.
Following Abel is Uffa Fox and Great Britain, who perform a rather bizarre yet hilarious dance and lip sync to ‘Tight Little Island’. Although everyone’s performances are short, it’s still enough to capture their joy and enthusiasm at having a stage on which to perform. Lucius Blac is amazing, performing ‘Welcome to the Jungle’ before dragging a blow up doll clad in lingerie on stage and slow dancing with it to finish.
Wavy Davy drops to their knees while strumming a pink electric guitar along to a Prince track, and I can’t help but marvel at the confidence all the performers seem to have tonight. Phillip Phallus (or One Sock Phillip as they are now known) performs a Clockwork Orange inspired piece, sauntering on stage cloaked in a flasher mac before casting it aside in favour of a pair of comically large white Y-Fronts. No details are spared for the performers, right down to the glass of ‘milk’ which Phillip chugs down at the end of their performance.
Eager for some crowd participation, Valentine takes to the stage again to announce a ‘Manliest Man’ competition. The ensuing chaos is hilarious – participants are forced to dance their ‘manliest’ dance before being told to grab ‘manly’ items from members of the crowd. These include watches, a beer (not a cider as one unlucky competitor learnt mind) and a pair of trainers. After five rounds, Phillip Phallus is crowned the winner and presented with a rather garish tiara which stays glued to their head for the rest of the night.
Johnny Gash wanders on stage to strum along to ‘Personal Jesus’, clad in a black leather jacket and dark sunglasses. Lucius Blac then returns to the stage to perform my favourite act of the night, singing along to Panic at the Disco’s ‘Don’t Threaten Me with a Good Time’. In the final chorus, they produce a bottle of Moët champagne and empty it over their head, dousing themselves in gold glitter. It’s simple, but effective – or maybe I’m just a sucker for theatrics. Who knows. By now, it’s almost 11pm and I start to gather my things. The party is still in full swing however, and the Britalo Kings emerge on stage to perform a 40-minute dance set.
In the dressing room, I strike up a conversation with one of the performers. We begin to discuss the impact of Valley of the Kings on their life, and the night takes a slightly harrowing turn. I’m told how their family views their lifestyle with disgust, and how their sister attempted to force them into a gay conversion therapy. We discuss how they’ve travelled for miles to perform tonight, and how their family are totally unaware of where they are.
It’s heartbreaking – they’re not much older than me, and the thought of them having to travel so far from home in order to explore their gender expression angers me. It serves as a constant, albeit sad, reminder that despite the fun and games, events such as Valley of the Kings serve as key safe spaces for individuals to express themselves with no boundaries.
When asking the ‘average’ person what their interests are, we’ve all heard the standard pastimes rattled off: socialising with friends and family, sporting activities, travelling, having a pint at the pub… And as I enter into the world of professionalism and small talk, I’ve realised this is a safe, relatable, and most importantly a socially acceptable list to recount in those awkward moments of introduction.
But it was after I inadvertently blurted out that my main interest were “serial killers”, with wide eyes and possibly over enthusiastic tone, in a work conference icebreaker not so long ago that I felt the pang of peer review and social acceptance. I don’t necessarily mean this is a bad interest, as I know many people who share it, but at the end of it all aren’t we all trying to fit in?
Due to this fascination, I’ve amassed bits of knowledge on Jeffrey Dahmer over the years from various sources: podcasts, autobiographies, biographies, films, interviews and documentaries. So, when I was offered the chance to sneak a first peak at the new biopic on the serial killer, My Friend Dahmer, I was genuinely overjoyed – jumping on a train from Bristol back to Birmingham to make the advanced screening at The Electric Cinema, as organised by Film Hub Midlands.
My Friend Dahmer is based on the 2012 graphic novel/memoir by American cartoonist John ‘Derf’ Backderf. Derf was an acquaintance of Jeffrey Dahmer’s throughout their time at Eastview Junior High and Revere High School from 1968 to 1978. The film adaptation doesn’t show this entire timeline or solely focus on Backderf’s friendship with Dahmer, like the graphic novel, but rather follows Dahmer throughout his four years in high school, charting his binge-drinking, the separation of his parents, his fascination for dead animal experimentation, and his desperate cries for attention to gain acceptance amongst his peers. The film shows Dharmer’s life up to the time just before his first human murder, two weeks after his graduation, ending with him picking up his first victim – hitchhiker Steven Mark Hicks.
My Friend Dahmer is also presented through the eyes of Dahmer himself, as opposed to the singular perspective of Derf in his graphic novel. Director and screenwriter, Marc Meyers, explains this switch was because “we’re all most interested in the life and descent of Jeff Dahmer. It’s the mix of Jeff’s school and home life that is the most compelling and important part of the story“.
Meyers does a great job with this film, carefully executing a cautionary tale that could have easily descended into the common pitfalls of the serial killer genre, such as glamorisation, dramatisation and desensitisation. Yet the way he captures Dahmer’s declining psyche, using subtle editing throughout the film, at times feels nothing short of masterful.
Meyers utilises all available factors, such as sound, the transition between frames, and the use of both establishing and close up shots, to create a deliberate and careful portrayal of Dahmer’s chaotic decent to the point of no return. I’ll admit, however, on occasion at the beginning the film felt slow and I was initially frustrated we were getting a lacklustre portrayal of the situation. But as My Friend Dahmer enters into its second half you realise this is a deliberate move to show the progression of Dahmer’s character and how he eventually gets to the point that he does.
During his school life, Dahmer was notorious for regularly faking seizures and mimicking cerebral palsy through speech impediments and certain ticks, in a bid to attraction attention from his peers. This worked too, as Derf and his classmates formed a “Dahmer Fan Club” due to how entertaining and interesting the found their ‘friend’ Jeffrey.
Derf, along with other peers, paid Dahmer to do “his act” at Summit Mall one afternoon; Derf has stated the event went down as “legendary”, as Jeffrey Dahmer spent around two hours terrorising shoppers by shouting in their faces, flinging their food trays from tables, and faking seizures in the middle of the complex. I felt this scene did a great job of summarising the tragedy that was Dahmer’s teenage years; the disconnect he had from everyone, his desperate need to fit in, and how he ultimately was nothing more than comical fodder amongst his peers.
Meyers could have easily set this up as a purley comical scene, but uses it as a pivotal point within the film to show the severity of Dahmer’s rapidly declining grasp of normalcy. Again, the editing is great here and shows the raw emotion by using a series of close-up frames that focus solely on a tormented looking Dahmer. Quick fades and dissolves are then used to fit the crescendo of a piano instrumental in the background, effectively building the emotion of the narrative and conveying an increasing despair without any dialogue.
However, the main highlight of the film is indisputably Ross Lynch’s performance as the younger Jeffrey Dahmer. Lynch was previously known for his work on the Disney Channel, and this departure makes his delivery even more surreal whilst showcasing the wider berth of his acting skills. Lynch manages to pin-point Dahmer’s character, not only in his immediate appearance (Lynch is virtually unrecognisable with his mop like hair and large glasses) but in his slouched posture, his introverted mannerisms, and most strikingly his facial expressions and eye contact which convey emotion in each scene without saying a word.
Meyers also finds balance in his execution of Dahmer’s character, showing the stereotypically introverted and sinister Dahmer but also his collected and composed nature in a very self-aware way. This is reflected in the story of how Dahmer called the President’s office on a school trip to Washington and arranged a meeting with his friends and Vice-President Walter Mondale. Lynch re-enacts this with a great calmness and slight arrogance – the more confident side of Dahmer gives the character further depth and an indication of his multifaceted personality, which became a vital part of the man in later life.
Lynch’s performance is also made so captivating because many of the experiences and situations Dahmer faced through adolescence are those that can be commonplace for any teenager, such as loneliness, negligence and the struggle for acceptance. This humanises Lynch’s character, as it isn’t hard to relate certain aspects of his demeanour to someone you know. Backderf even stated that Lynch’s portrayal of Dahmer will “make viewers uncomfortable because it’s so familiar.”
My main gripe, however, is that I feel My Friend Dahmer portrays the ‘Dahmer Fan Club’ to be more compassionate than was perhaps strictly true – especially judging by Derf’s own account in his graphic novel, which repeatedly stated that generally they excluded Dahmer, didn’t give him much concern, and pretty much kept him around for entertainment.
However, in the film there are a handful of scenes where members of the group question if it’s “meanhow [we] treat Dahmer” and later on that they should “leave him alone”. None of this is reflected in Derf’s original recount and feels as though it has been thrown in to the film to make his peers appear more sympathetic, or to make them seem more like invested acquaintances than they were.
This is demonstrated most prominently within the penultimate scene between Dahmer and Derf in the car outside Jeffrey’s house; Derf, after disassociating himself from Dahmer due to his overbearing weirdness, hesitantly discusses heading off to college and Dahmer’s future plans. At this point in Derf’s graphic novel I was practically begging for someone to ask Dahmer ‘are you okay?’, but it never came. By introducing the disjointed, flippant interests in Dahmer’s welfare at this stage in the film adaptation it felt unnecessary, disingenuous, and took away the severity of hopelessness and isolation of the central character.
Although also towards the end of the film the narrative shows Dahmer’s former friends and his parents all leaving him, instilling the audience with a heart-sinking feeling as we expect the inevitable. The scene where Dahmer’s mother, Joyce, leaves with his brother, David, is done in such a blasé way it almost becomes comical, with Meyers using this to encapsulate the tragedy of Dahmer’s teenage relationships and how utterly alone he really was. After Joyce leaves, the scene is deathly quiet as Dahmer falls to the floor and cries. You can see the angst and conflict in Lynch’s face, so much so you could arguably mark the point where all hope is lost for Jeffrey Dahmer.
There is a further absence of any full discussion about Dahmer’s struggle with his sexuality. There are a couple of scenes in My Friend Dahmer that hint towards this inner conflict, but this could have been expanded on rather than being just an undertone as it is such a vital part in the killer’s motives and central to the whole character of Jeffrey Dahmer.
I also have a feeling the film may hold more appeal to those with a pre-existing interest in Dahmer. For those with little interest in the notorious serial killer, it may seem slow paced and potentially anticlimactic and we don’t see any of what Dahmer is most known for, so I would recommend reading Derf’s graphic novel for a bit of background.
This being said, My Friend Dahmer carries a lot for all film lovers to enjoy, such as the aforementioned performance from Lynch and the evident craft put into each scene; the colour pallet for the film is really enjoyable, recreating the era through a sepia quality and giving a portrayal of Ohio within the late-sixties that feels authentic and rich.
Overall, Meyers presents an honest look at Jeffery Dahmer’s unsettling and upsetting childhood. The film neither excuses nor sympathises with his actions, but still shows the extent to which Dahmer’s traumas and inner demons grew through the negligence of those around him, and eventually consumed him, in a process that is both fascinating and heart-wrenching to watch.
My Fiend Dahmer offers its audience a glimpse into the serial killer’s adolescence without assigning blame on certain events or situations that lead to his fate. But rather the narrative explores the factors that shaped Dahmer into the individual he became, without trying to answer the ‘nature Vs nurture’ debate – a conversation arguably best left to both the audience and wider society. Something to remember during that uncomfortable small talk at the office Christmas party.
My Friend Dahmer – official trailer
My Friend Dahmer is out in general release from Friday 1st June – coming to both independent and mainstream cinemas across the UK. For more on My Friend Dahmer, visit www.filmrise.com/film/my-friend-dahmer
Antonia Beck’s first programme as Birmingham Literature Festival’s Festival Director focuses on celebrating and championing female writers. So it’s little surprise, as I walk into Birmingham REP’s Door space for my first taste of their spring weekend programme, that the audience is predominantly female.
It’s shame that more men aren’t present for this engaging panel discussion – titled 2018: The Year of Publishing Women? – which is inspired by the novelist Kamila Shamsie’s ‘provocation’ that publishers should only publish books by women in 2018. I think they would find it interesting.
When proposing the concept, Shamsie argued that her approach would both highlight and counteract the gender bias in publishing and literary awards towards male authors. Initially published in The Guardian, the article sparked much discussion and publicity but only one publisher, And Other Stories (represented on today’s panel by Fiction Editor Tara Tobler), has taken up the challenge. Today’s panel members make it clear, however, that there are a lot of other positive ways to work towards greater gender balance in literature and in society in general. Catherine Mayer set up the political Women’s Equality Party, Sian Norris founded the Bristol Women’s Literature Festival, and Sabeena Akhtar is compiling an anthology featuring work by women who have experience of wearing the hijab.
The panel discuss some of the issues that they have faced as female writers and editors. They agree that female authors are marketed in certain ways, with sexualized or feminised book covers, that they are typecast into writing in limited genres or about particular themes, and that, although female authors achieve high book sales, they are less often named on award shortlists than men. Panel and audience members put forward a number of suggestions of how to counteract these issues, including networking and mentoring, refusing to work for free, and utilising the internet to publish work independently.
Perhaps the most striking thought that I’m left with is that this isn’t just a problem of female representation. It’s an intersectional issue. Yes it’s difficult to be a woman in publishing, but you could further argue that a white, wealthy woman is – on the whole – going to find it easier to build up a professionally broad network of contacts than their counterparts from a different class or culture. The lack of equality in publishing is a complex challenge that isn’t going to be solved by a single panel discussion in Birmingham – yet this event carries out the important job of making sure that the issue continues to be highlighted.
Next is #MeToo: A Movement in Poetry. Fair Acre Press has published an anthology of poetry featuring the work of 80 female poets in response to the #MeToo movement – which highlights the prevalence of sexual harassment and assault against women in society. In this event, 24 poems are read aloud by over twenty different female voices. Some of the poems are read by their authors on the stage (such as Kathy Gee’s ‘Still Guilty’ and ‘=Not Him’ by Pat Edwards) and some are read by audience members, either at the front of the room or from their seat in the auditorium.
This format is simple, but incredibly powerful. When the woman next to you in the audience suddenly stands up and starts reading a poem about sexual assault or harassment, it really brings home the fact that this could be happening to the person next to you on the bus, at work, or even at home. And you had no idea. The poems are thoughtfully arranged, starting with the ambiguous ‘Reeds’ – which describes an episode that could be the start of something, or of nothing. Poems like ‘The Bicycle’ show the narrator trying to focus on other things to distance themselves from what just happened, whereas ‘Spunk’ powerfully describes an episode explicitly.
By the end, ‘Spartaca’ sees women standing together in solidarity and speaking out. The sheer number of episodes and stories presented brings home the widespread nature of sexual assault and harassment that women encounter. But it also creates a sense of solidarity. Poem after poem, experience after experience, momentum builds, and the more women that speak out the more women have the courage to join in. Considering the distressing subject matter, the poetry, presented as it is here, has an uplifting effect.
We’re back on a more comfortable footing for the festival’s final event. Festival Director, Antonia Beck, describes Jenny Murray as having a voice that’s a “staple in all our homes” in her introduction to A History of Britain in 21 Women with Jenny Murray. As you go through life, you occasionally meet people with such charm and ease that you’ll listen to them, enthralled, for hours. Murray is such a person. It’s not surprising that she has become such a beloved institution on our airwaves.
This event is named after Murray’s book, which is part memoir, part accessible take on British history. Tonight, Murray tells a series of anecdotes from her life mixed with interesting stories about 21 women who shaped the history of Britain, all framed by questions from ex-BBC Midlands Today presenter Sue Beardsmore. Murray describes history as being the “biography of great men” and her book addresses this by documenting some important women in British history, some of whom Murray believes are somewhat passed over in the school curriculum.
She talks about women like Boudica, who led an uprising against the occupying Romans and who Murray first encountered in statue-form on a trip to London as a child. And Elizabeth I, who would be her top pick for a fantasy dinner party. And Margaret Thatcher, the only woman Murray says she has ever been frightened of. The evening ends with Murray speaking about the sexism that women still encounter, particularly highlighting the difficulties faced by female MPs and praising the #MeToo movement for raising awareness of harassment and abuse.
It’s a fitting end, both to the event and to the weekend as whole, which certainly posed some interesting questions about the role of women in literature and in society. Whether Antonia Beck continues to focus on celebrating and championing female writers in the full Birmingham Literature Festival programme, running from October 4th to 14th, remains to be seen. But until autumn, there is both plenty of food for thought and plenty still to accomplish.
Opulence promised a brand new performance night with Mother’s Meeting and the people have turned out for it. Drag fans fill the basement of Bar Jester, staring expectantly at the mural of nude men that decorates the back of the stage.
Dahliah Rivers welcomes the crowd. She wears a gold floor length art deco style dress, and fiery red hair tumbles down her shoulders.
Jenna Davinci is first to perform. She begins lip syncing to Hi Fashion’s ‘Amazing’, which is interrupted by Meryl Streep’s iconic ‘Cerulean’ monologue from The Devil Wears Prada. By the time Davinci is gesticulating along to Milk’s ‘Touch the Fashion’, a clear theme has emerged. Despite all this, she looks perfectly at home in horizontal stripes.
Jay Andre bounces on stage to the opening bars of Grimes’ electro-pop anthem ‘Kill V. Maim’ to the delight of the crowd. Her fishnet bodysuit is trimmed with a fringe of plastic spikes; they rustle as she dances, bristling like cheerleader pom poms. Andre‘s routine is excitable and high energy – a fitting tribute to Grimes herself.
Nora Virus wears a chintz bodysuit with a face hood, complete with a red collar and matching fishnet tights. Her melding of twee florals and skintight fetishwear results in a look that can only be described as Cath Clubkidston. Virus razzle-dazzles the audience with a routine to Victoria Wood’s ‘The Ballad of Barry and Freda’. During the week, Virus puzzled her online followers by asking around for a sturdy tea trolley. It all makes sense when, as Wood’s vocals surge over the PA, Virus comes careening across the stage on one:
“This folly, is jolly,
Bend me over backwards on me hostess trolley.
Let’s do it, let’s do it tonight!”
I caught up with Virus after the show and asked what had inspired her inaugural Mother’s Meeting performance.
“When we came up with the name, my first thoughts were of 1950’s housewives at a Tupperware party, enjoying afternoon tea. I’m a huge Victoria Wood fan, she’s an absolute legend, and I stumbled across ‘The Ballad of Barry and Freda’, which I hadn’t heard for years! I couldn’t stop laughing and instantly knew I wanted to perform this. The whole idea just seemed fucked up. I’d be lip syncing to something your mom and dad would be laughing at back in the day, but dressed like something they’d have nightmares about.”
Closing the opening set of the night, Charity Kase makes her first appearance. In the advent of Ru Paul’s Drag Race the term ‘sickening’ has been thrown around to describe some drag looks. But in this instance it seems justified: Kase wears a floor length nun’s habit, but her face is a mess of grimy bandages.
Followers of her work will have been expecting an element of horror tonight, but no one can have been ready for this. Makeup obscures her mouth and eyes, so they appear as gaping holes. To the sounds of ‘Stay’ by Shakespeare’s Sister she tears off her costume, revealing an inverted cross chained to her chest. Kase looms over the shrouded cadaver she wheeled on stage with her, and with a flash of red light tears into it with a sickle. When she steps back, she is holding a blood drenched appendage aloft. No prizes for guessing what appendage that might be…
After a much needed interval, hostess Dahliah Rivers treats the crowd to a glittering routine ‘Raise the Roof’ from Andrew Lippa’s 1997 musical The Wild Party. It seems a fitting choice to kick off the second set, and Rivers luxuriates in the glamour of it.
Elliott Barnicle emerges from the DJ booth to do a number. He struts across the stage in his trademark silver leotard to the sugar-sweet pop of Little Mix’s ‘Hair’. The performance continues on a theme, with snippets of Brooke Candy’s ‘Don’t Touch My Hair Hoe’, Alaska Thunderfuck’s ‘This Is My Hair’, and Willow Smith’s ‘Whip My Hair’. The last of these sees Barnicle, who is as usual sporting his boyish haircut, produce a handful of blonde extensions and whirl them around.
No mother’s meeting would be complete without an appearance from Birmingham’s own drag matriarch, Yshee Black. Although it’s a Saturday night, Black has graced us with her Sunday best for a gospel inspired number. She sets off her blue suit-dress with a matching eye shadow. Her rousing performance is the perfect penultimate act of the night.
Returning to close the show, Charity Kase wears a pink satin nightgown and carries a Nestle Dairy Box aloft. The top half of her face is a disconcerting mask. Shanks & Bigfoot’s ‘Sweet Like Chocolate’ begins to play. She saunters through the crowd towards the stage, flipping her Barbie-blonde ringlets in the faces of audience members. She offers the box of chocolates around before stuffing them into her mouth by the handful.
Throughout the lip sync, Kase goes on to consume multiple bars of Galaxy. The majority of these are produced from the depths of her frilly white underwear, and spat out again at the audience. She manages not to miss a beat of the song. When the track finishes she is sprawled on the stage, covered in melted chocolate. The next morning I find a lump of partially chewed fudge on my shoe.
The Mother’s Meeting crowd file out onto the Queensway. In true maternal fashion, Nora Virus is diligently checking that all the audience are either part of her flock heading to the The Nightingale or are getting home safely. Later, I get her thoughts on Charity Kase.
“Charity blew me away. Both performances were so well thought out. I’m always here for the strange and unusual! I’m a queer kid in both meanings of the word and she is right up my alley…”
Opulence have pulled it off tonight. I ask Virus what’s next for the group.
“Opulence are a real diverse bunch of queens. We have theatre queens, comedy queens, deathdrop bitches, the lot. You want variety, we got it honey! No two Mother’s Meetings will ever be the same. We plan to showcase the best of U.K drag in Birmingham, as well as other styles of performance. You just wait to see who we have for Mother’s Meeting part two.”
On Friday 6th April, queer art collective Dragpunk took over the middle floor of The Nightingale Club. This was the venue for their brand new performance night, Dragpunk Presents. For the uninitiated, we caught up with host Amber Cadaverous – who began by explaining the origins of the group’s name.
The ‘drag’ in Dragpunk recognises that, “drag artistry is the expressive and creative art for anyone regardless of their gender, sexual identity and orientation,” tells Cadaverous, “it knows no gender but subverts and mocks all gender and art norms.” The collective’s values of “expressive, individual freedom that is anti-establishment and anti-mainstream society,” are where the ‘punk’ comes in.
“Whether your interest is makeup, performance art, drag art, queer politics, or you’re simply in need of a safe space for fun, self-expression, and excitement, we want to provide this,” continues Cadaverous. “We plan and run all events as safe space for those across the LGBTQ+ community and allies. We only encourage fun and freedom – dress how you want and be who you want. We welcome all of those who just want to feel the love of a community.
Birmingham is our home, and Birmingham is brimming with art and creativity that needs an outlet and a voice.”
The theme for tonight is Candyland. Paul Aleksandr runs the door. Head to toe in neon pink, complete with bedazzled facial hair, he offers cakes and sweets to guests as they arrive. Hands are stamped and drinks are bought.
Around midnight, Cadaverous totters on stage. She wears platform heels, a paint splattered prom dress, and an enormous purple wig topped with an even bigger pink bow. Her face is painted with a Glasgow smile and heavily lined eyes, but her excitement about the evening shines through. She welcomes and introduces fellow Dragpunk, Lilith.
Lilith looks like she’s stepped straight out of your MySpace top friends from 2004. She’s dressing up a cinched and contoured club kid look with buckets of kimo-kawaii accessories. A dynamic routine to Blood on the Dance Floor’s ‘Candyland’ sets the tone (and the pace) for the night. Strobe lights illuminate her backcombed wig.
Eva Lution follows, serving a look described by Cadaverous as “glamour granny”. Her glamour is certainly timeless, as she performs the evening’s most articulate lip sync to ‘A Spoonful of Sugar’. Lution’s floor length gown ripples across the stage. It looks effortless, but the costume designer and fashion student later confirms that it was sewn by her own fair hands. When the music switches to Def Leppard, Lution shrugs the gown to the floor. She reveals fishnets and thigh high boots. This girl is no granny.
Ginny Lemon brings a change of pace to the stage next. Some may remember Lemon from an appearance on ITV’s X Factor in 2017, or perhaps from her regular turn as a host at The Village Inn on Hurst Street. Either way, her face is not one you’ll forget in a hurry. Looking like the bastard daughter of Marge Simpson and Velma from Scooby Doo, Lemon emerges from the DJ booth gesticulating along to Tori Amos’ ‘Sugar’ followed by ‘Candy Shop’ by Madonna. These go down like a delicious citrusy treat with the crowd, but her original composition (an a cappella ode to biscuits) is even better.
After a short interval, the room fills again for Mama Mamba. The 2017 winner of Church of Yshee has set the bar high. She perches on the side of the stage, legs bound into a mermaid tail. The room goes quiet. ‘Part of Your World’ from The Little Mermaid fades in.
Mamba flirts with the crowd, winking and pouting throughout the lipsync while she’s photographed. She checks her flawless makeup in a shell-shaped mirror and combs a fork through her turquoise hair. Slowly, she pulls herself up onto her fins and shimmies out of the tail, flaunting the best bum on Birmingham’s drag scene. Mamba struts across the stage in a iridescent miniskirt, and when the song reaches its falsetto climax she gleefully removes her seashell bra to reveal matching nipple tassels. It’s what Walt Disney would have wanted.
A new face on the local scene, Stormy Carl’s creator describes her as “a messy woman zoomed in on.” She wears a pink satin slip which clashes against her emerald curls. If you look down, pink stripy socks peep out the top of her platform sandals. Carl has taken the evening’s theme and run with it, crafting a playful mix for her routine that features Aqua, Austin Powers, and a smattering of Spongebob Squarepants dialogue.
She drizzles caramel over herself and throws her sticky dress to the ground, untangling it from her feet as the room takes in her pink paisley bikini. Her athletic, chaotic routine leaves the crowd wondering where she’s been hiding.
We caught up with Stormy Carl after the show for a few words. As one of Dragpunk’s female performers, she had a few words on the role of women within the scene:
“Drag at its core, to me anyways, is just about playing dress up,” explains Carl. “Historically it was a way to entertain and escape from society. You can be ANYONE in drag: yourself, an egg, a celebrity, or just whatever you perceive as beautiful. I like to take the idea of ‘woman’ that society has constructed and just times it by 100.”
Nora Virus opens the third and final set of the evening. A key player in Birmingham’s club kid community, Virus is a part of the Opulence collective and founder of another new drag event coming to Birmingham, Mother’s Meeting. Wearing a cropped, tie dye t-shirt and candy floss pink wig, she delights in completely desecrating ‘Pure Imagination’ from 1971’s Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory.
Beckoning fellow artist Liam Layland from the crowd, Virus invites him to reach inside the large, plush doughnut strapped around her waist and try his luck. What follows can’t be repeated here, but it ends with them skipping off stage together to the tune of ‘I’ve Got a Golden Ticket’.
Self-described ‘burlesquer and activist’, Petite, is a bundle of cardigan and big frothy petticoats. She dances to Jackie Wilson’s fitting ‘Reet Petite’, grinning at the crowd. This saccharine tone quickly dissolves when ‘Pour Some Sugar on Me’ starts playing for the second time this evening.
Petite takes this more literally than Eva Lution did and strips down to lingerie before liberally pouring a whole a bag of Tate & Lyle over her body. When the song’s over, the performers all scrabble to clear the floor of sugar, whipped cream, and cupcake crumbs in time for the final act.
The fourth and final member of the Dragpunk collective, Tacky Alex, is here to close the night. Joined on stage by Stormy Carl and Mama Mamba for a choreographed routine to Katy Perry’s ‘California Girls’, Alex begins pulling audience members up to join them. After the show, Amber Cadaverous picked this out as the highlight of her night.
“It felt so silly and fun but had a real community vibe and spirit; everyone was laughing and smiling. It just felt so right!“
It seems a fitting ending to a night celebrating the playful and inclusive nature of drag as an art form; everyone left feeling pleased to see the Dragpunk team pull it off.
”There is always something really magic about seeing all your plans come to life,” Cadaverous agrees. “Our ‘Presents’ night is going to be regular throughout the year, each time with a new theme and a production showcasing local and national UK drag of all genders, sexualities and abilities… expect us to release the next theme and line up shortly! As well as our performance night we also run a queer alternative party called I’m Not Okay and our next one of those will be at Birmingham Pride in Nightingales on the Future Stage.
We are also working on some events that will run during the day and outside of club spaces so our fans and friends under 18 will be able to enjoy queer performance art and community based events. Plans include film viewings, drag makeup workshops, drag queen life drawing, open mic performance segments and more!”
Eager for some crowd participation, Valentine takes to the stage again to announce a ‘Manliest Man’ competition. The ensuing chaos is hilarious – participants are forced to dance their ‘manliest’ dance before being told to grab ‘manly’ items from members of the crowd. These include watches, a beer (not a cider as one unlucky competitor learnt mind) and a pair of trainers. After five rounds, Phillip Phallus is crowned the winner and presented with a rather garish tiara which stays glued to their head for the rest of the night.
In the dressing room, I strike up a conversation with one of the performers. We begin to discuss the impact of Valley of the Kings on their life, and the night takes a slightly harrowing turn. I’m told how their family views their lifestyle with disgust, and how their sister attempted to force them into a gay conversion therapy. We discuss how they’ve travelled for miles to perform tonight, and how their family are totally unaware of where they are.
It serves as a constant, albeit sad, reminder that despite the fun and games, events such as Valley of the Kings serve as key safe spaces for individuals to express themselves with no boundaries.
A new face on the local scene, 
“It felt so silly and fun but had a real community vibe and spirit; everyone was laughing and smiling. It just felt so right!“