An Ex-Call Girl Tells All What follows is an excerpt from my forthcoming book of interviews: The Talk. I asked people, ‘How were you told the facts of life?’ And, ‘What information were you given?’ Major Gerard Crastley invited me to perform at a Mess do. I was asking my…

‘Spectacular and eccentric…More! More!!’ Daily Mail. ‘Lovingly tart!’ The Rough Guide to Choreography. ‘Essential viewing.’ Evening Standard. And, during filming, from the general series producer: ‘Iestyn, we are very sorry you got a poorly foot today, but please don’t send the director off the set again for — as you view her — being a complete cretin, misfilming your pirouette sequence six “shi*ting” times. We could perhaps discuss your stance that it’s “completely mental to employ her to make a humorous piece about ballet, when she’s humourless and knows f-ck all about dance”. We can’t comment on her having a supercilious spoon-face.’

My Tutu Went AWOL…the Number One Amazon Best-Seller, now available from Audible Here I am, starting a new campaign for marketing, visibility, traction — In my day, traction was weights and pulleys attached to a plaster cast. Or three. Be that as it may, as the title of this blog…

I would visualise and visualise Madame Galina, my onstage persona, touring to London’s West End and to Blackpool: wearing a fur, dragging a trunk, staying in old-school theatrical digs, being partnered by either Michael Nunn or William Trevitt: both Royal Ballet Principal Dancers… About to move to London from Aldeburgh…

Xiuying, Chinese herbalist, said she must send for Mr Yong and get a second opinion on my worrying tongue. ‘What is it your job, please?’ she had asked, once I was lying still and not rustling the paper sheet on the cot. ‘And give me your wrist fully.’ I told…

I’m getting one of these. A jardinière. For my fire escape. The last time I heard the word ‘jardinière’ was on video messenger during lockdown. I was chatting to my mate Finch Loudet, porn actor turned director. He said that only cohabiting porn couples were able to work under the lockdown rules. On OnlyFans. Often asking subscribers to send in sex-suggestions. Four days into lockdown, apparently, the subscribers were past requesting pegging, turd play and zombie necrophilia, and instead were commenting:

An excerpt from my forthcoming book of interviews. I asked people, ‘How were you told the facts of life?’ And, ‘What information were you given?’ Here is Belinda, who used to be an escort. She is now in her eighties. My sister read about Dutch caps. We looked at Old…

12 min ago The year before the plague, I opened the Essex Book Festival with My Tutu Went AWOL. I also closed the festival (just call me the Maria Callas of touting the memoir subgenre Drag Meets Marine.) …

Stacks, Royal Marine, inherited his love of music from his granny. Sadly no longer with us, she was a church organist. Until one Easter. As Stacks tells it, ‘She was playing for Devotions. One hymn every hour, on the hour. The churchyard gate was opposite the Dog and Feathers, and she was going over there in the interim. The head verger had to help her up into the organ loft for “There is a Green Hill.” He decided after that she was better left. And left. And left. Christ had long since risen while she was still beer-snoring.’