The Heckler

"Tonight we're going to party like its 1999.” If only we could. If only we could go back to that late 90s Cool Britannia era. Perhaps it's just nostalgia for my lost youth but things seemed fresher then, somehow.

If I had to pick a date to plug into my imaginary time machine.......... well, that's easy. June 26th 1998. The night of Julia Watson's 21^stbirthday party. The night that Don Cunningham learned that actions have consequences. And that you shouldn't make boasts you can't live up to. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

It was a balmy Friday night, just after the longest day, with the weekend ahead to recover from any excesses and Julia had booked a private room in a local social club for about fifty of her friends, colleagues and acquaintances, about sixty percent female but not completely unbalanced. And she, or her daddy, had paid for a buffet supper for us all. And a Drag act called Fanny Peculiar to entertain us while we ate it.

Don thought it was clever and amusing to hassle the performer, who was actually quite funny as such things go and made us all laugh. Except Don, who wouldn't admit to being entertained and fought to keep his face straight. He didn't approve of 'benders' of any description and there would have been no point even trying to explain the difference between drag acts, drag queens, transvestites and transsexuals.

Fanny was doing a pretty good job ignoring Don's heckling but he was starting to get on everyone else's nerves. “Shut up will you?” said his mate Chris angrily. “You're embarrassing us and annoying everyone. Just give it a rest!”

"Embarrassing you? Dear God! 'Three lions on a shirt'” Don sang, parodying the current number one single. He glanced round the table at his friends Chris, Steve and Kevin. “Three pussies at this table I reckon!” Ignoring the angry looks on their faces he added, loudly, “Fuck me! Is that supposed to be female? I reckon I'm more feminine than that! You could at least have shaved, mate!”

Perhaps Fanny, who of course had no beard stubble whatever, saw an opportunity for revenge. Or maybe she just wanted to prevent the fight that seemed to be imminent. She looked straight at Don and said “You know, that's really no way to talk to a lady. But when it comes from such a horny, macho guy like that I just melt and go silly and I just can't be cross with the dear boy.”

Fanny shifted her gaze slightly to take in Don's embarrassed and angry friends and winked at them. Perhaps she was lucky, or maybe long experience had taught her how to read and manipulate people but her tactics worked like magic. “If only I could have a keepsake, something to remember him by. Some underwear, perhaps? Oh well, a girl can dream!”

More plan than dream, I suspect, and it worked. Don's erstwhile friends glanced at each other and next thing Steve and Kevin had grabbed Don's arms and were pulling him down to the floor by their table. Chris tried to go for his belt but he was kicking and struggling.

Steve, who I knew slightly, must have seen me staring because he called out “Hey, John, don't just stand there! Come and give us a hand. Get his feet!” I was, of course, happy to oblige and once Don couldn't kick anymore Chris soon had his jeans down to his ankles. But they wouldn't come off over his shoes so Chris took his shoes and socks off, then his jeans. He folded them neatly and put them on the chair Don had been sitting in.

Don saw Chris reaching for his underwear and all bravado was long gone. “Come on mate, that's enough” he wheedled. “You've made your point, now let me go. Please?”

"Oh I couldn't do that” replied Chris. “We wouldn't want you to think you're with three pussies who can't finish what they start. We know how scathing you can be.” He pulled Don's underwear off and handed them to Fanny. Don's short tee shirt covered nothing. Well, you know what I mean. I couldn't help seeing could I? I was still holding his ankles. People at nearby tables were also enjoying the spectacle.

Fanny inspected her trophy. “Ooh, yes, bright red boxer-briefs. My favourite style, so sexy!” She brought them up to her face and inhaled. And then she coughed theatrically. “Oh my dear! Your washing machine's low mileage isn't it? Very pungent, very Jean Genet, but not in a good way!” I had no idea what that meant but laughed anyway along with everyone else.

Fanny surveyed the scene before her. “You know, I think I might take him up on his challenge.” She looked Don in the eye. “Don't worry, I'm not going to fuck you, not literally anyway. You couldn't afford me darling. But you say you're more feminine than me, and you don't say that to Fanny Peculiar unless you can back it up! What do you say boys, I've got some spare clobber, shall we dress him up and see who's the lady round here?”

The 'boys' were still out to teach Don a lesson for insulting them and trying to spoil the show so they enthusiastically agreed. “Well bring him up on stage then” said Fanny. “But for pity's sake let's lose that awful cheap shirt. I can't work with that! No self-respecting lady-boy would be seen dead in it!”

Don's protests were ignored, his shirt ripped off and the four of us grabbed a limb each and literally carried him up on stage. We held him there face up 'enjoying' Fanny checking out his body for a few moments then dragged him to his feet and made him stand there facing the audience. Stark naked and full frontal! I almost felt sorry for him as the crowd went wild, pointing, laughing, making comments, whistling, cheering, but mostly laughing. But then I remembered his attempts to humiliate the performer and thought well, this is just karma, so enjoy it John.

"Such a cute boy, when he keeps quiet that is. What's his name?” asked Fanny.

"Don Cunningham” she was told.

"Dong? As in King Dong? He's hardly that, dear, I should know! Adequate, is the best one could say, to be charitable, no more. Well, let's get started. Can I have a lady volunteer please? We'll see if we can make Don into Donna.”

And she proceeded to do just that, telling an anecdote while directing the volunteer (Julia, who was furious that someone had tried to ruin her party and wanted revenge) how to dress 'Donna' to look 'her' best. Fanny was careful not to touch Don and she hadn't actually asked anyone else to remove more than his shirt, probably with the law in mind.

First he was dressed in fishnet stockings and suspenders. Julia knelt in front of him, making it obvious that she was examining his 'package' from close range as she rolled the stockings slowly up his legs and fastened the suspender belt.

Next, he was equipped with a pair of false breasts in a bra, then a blouse, and finally a miniskirt, at last allowing some modesty. Then a blonde wig was put on his head. Don was a fairly stocky lad and as a 'girl' he just looked ridiculous, and not remotely feminine.

"No time to do proper make-up” announced Fanny. “Just put a bit of lippy on her and that'll have to do” she added, handing Julia a bright red lipstick which Julia applied very sloppily, on purpose I'm sure.

"Now, let's have a vote” said Fanny, after finishing her anecdote and allowing the laughter to subside. “Who's more feminine, Fanny or Donna? Hands up who thinks it's me?” That was most of the room. “And who's voting for the knickers-less tart?” Chris grinned and lifted the front of the miniskirt to illustrate the point as a few lads raised their hands, presumably to embarrass Don, who looked slightly less feminine than a member of ZZ Top by this point.

"Well, I think that's pretty conclusive” said Fanny smugly. “But I think there's a few boys here who could do with an eye test.” She looked at Don. “If you drop anything in the car park later just keep walking, darling. Don't bend over whatever you do!” She looked at the table Don had been at. “Somebody bring me Donna's boy clothes. We can swap later and then I'll be sure of getting me gear back.” Someone obliged. “Thanks darling. And now I'd like to sing you a song.”

The song turned out to be a parody of Noel Coward's 'Don't put your daughter on the stage Mrs Worthington' with Worthington changed to Cunningham. Fanny kept pointing to Don at appropriate moments as she sang:

Don't put your daughter on the stage, Mrs. Cunningham
Don't put your daughter on the stage
The profession is overcrowded
And the struggle's pretty tough
And admitting the fact
She's burning to act
That isn't quite enough
She has nice hands
Give the wretched girl her due
But her personality
Is not, in reality
Exciting enough
Inviting enough
For this particular sphere
I repeat, Mrs. Cunningham
Sweet Mrs. Cunningham
Don't put your daughter on the stage
 

Don't put your daughter on the stage, Mrs. Cunningham

Don't put your daughter on the stage
She's a bit of an ugly duckling
You must honestly confess
And the width of her seat
Would surely defeat
Her chances of success
It's a loud voice
And though it's not exactly flat
She'll need a little more than that
To earn a living wage
On my knees, Mrs. Cunningham
Cunningham
Don't put your daughter on the stage!
 

By the end of this the audience was in fits of laughter and Don looked like he wanted to kill someone, either Fanny, himself, or us for helping, possibly all the above. It's probably just as well we were all still hanging around on stage trying to look unobtrusive while keeping Don/Donna in his/her place.

"Well, I think we've seen about enough of Donna for one night haven't we?” asked Fanny. “Such an ugly girl. I don't know how she could possibly imagine she's more feminine than I am.” She looked at Don and then pointed to a couple of portable screens about six feet wide and six feet high that had been placed to make a private area at the back of the stage. “You can get changed behind there and then go out the fire door. Your friends can go with you to make sure you don't misbehave.” She switched her mic. off, leaned in close and said in a quiet baritone “Next time don't try to fuck with a professional, son. I can handle better than you, and I have done.”

We trooped behind the screens, which turned out to conceal nothing but a chair, an empty table and, as mentioned, a fire exit door. Don still looked homicidal, the rest of us were trying not to laugh too openly which wasn't easy as his impotent rage made him look even more ridiculous and funny than he did anyway.

Kevin had brought Don's clothes and he put them on the table. Don looked through them. “Where's me boxers then?” he asked angrily.

"I don't know, do I?” replied Kevin. “I just brought what was there. If your boxers aren't amongst it I suppose Fanny must have kept them. You did try to ruin things, why do you think no-one tried to help you?”

Silently, Don removed the stockings, reached under the skirt and with some difficulty managed to remove the suspender belt without exposing himself, pretty pointless as we'd seen it all anyway. Then he pulled his jeans on. He seemed to feel better now he had his trousers and began to calm down. “Fanny, eh? I can think of a shorter word. Did I really piss everyone off that much?” he asked, pensively.

"Yeah, you did, mate” said Kevin, who seemed to know just what to say to calm things down, from long practice perhaps. “Chris tried to warn you and you just insulted all of us. I thought I was going to have to stop a fight breaking out. The act wasn't bad, why not just enjoy it?”

"I dunno. There's just something about people like that that riles me I suppose” said Don as he put his shirt on.

"People like that?” I asked. “You do know most drag acts are straight guys, right?” I don't know if that's true but it seemed the thing to say, and certainly are.

Kevin shot me a warning 'don't stir it' look as Don reached for his shoes and socks. “Yeah, but they're still trying to be something they're not, aren't they?” he said. “I can see what he means.”

Don tied his shoes and stood up. Chris went to open the fire exit. “I don't think so” said Don. “Sneaking out the back way and slinking off? Stuff that! I've got a better idea.”

Before anyone could stop him he strode out from behind the screens onto the stage. “Oh, shit” muttered Kevin. “Come on, boys. Damage limitation time.” We followed Don onto the stage where he was stood glowering and waiting for Fanny to finish the anecdote she was telling.

Fanny became aware of his presence. “You again? What do you want now?” Don held out his hand for the microphone and after a moment's hesitation Fanny handed it over.

"You think I'm going to creep out the back door and run away?” Don began. “Not a chance. My friends tell me I really pissed everybody off and I got what I asked for. Well, I'm not sure about that, but at least you got your revenge. I'm sorry if I upset anyone, I thought I was being funny.” Suddenly he grinned sheepishly, shook his head and added “Well, I got a pretty good laugh in the end, didn't I?” He got another with that comment. He looked at Julia. “Am I still invited to the party?”

She walked over and kissed him on the cheek. “After that? Of course you can stay if you want to. Just don't hassle anyone. Oh, and for God's sake sort your lippy out, you look a mess!”

"Now that's what I call damage limitation!” commented Kevin as we returned to our seats.

The End