by Liam Livings
Big Gav leant across and kissed Gavin on the lips, squeezing his bum at the same time.
Gavin jumped up, said there was plenty of time for that later, but there were guests to introduce us to, quickly squeezed his boyfriend’s groin with one hand while turning to wink at him. He then led Callum and me by the hand to a group of two men and two women, all with shoulder-length blonde wigs. One woman wore a bright red jumper and long blue skirt, the other a long green skirt and yellow jumper. The men had white trousers and one a blue jumper the other a green jumper. Before we were introduced, I could already see where this was heading. I started humming the chorus of Making Your Mind Up by Bucks Fizz - the British winners of the contest in the eighties.
Gavin introduced us to the brightly coloured foursome and explained the two men were a couple "from the floristry world" and the girls loved a good party. After the two men had whipped off the girls' skirts revealing a mini skirt underneath, in a move I could have predicted as soon as I walked into the room, we discussed how we knew Gavin and Big Gav and how into the contest we were.
The two girls hadn't seen it before, but knew Making Your Mind Up as their parents had the record when they were younger.
One of the men, I didn't catch his name, I think it was Bobby, explained they'd met at a floristry convention and had clicked when they found out they both loved the contest, and had been invited to every one of Gavin's parties since then.
Callum had been quiet for a while, among all this floristry and Eurovision talk, then he asked, "Do you both remember this one winning? 'cause you don't look old enough, if you ask me."
Bobby Blue Jumper replied, "I was very young then, but Mum had awful taste in pop music so it sort of seeped through, I think." He smiled.
Green Jumper added, "I'm not so into it, it's him who's the Eurovision nut. I'm just here for the ride."
Blue Jumper slapped his shoulder playfully. "Enough of that, time for that later, cheeky."
We talked for a while about the contest, and established the actual live contest was due to start shortly. Bobby Blue Jumper asked what we did and we told him about our jobs. Mine passed without much comment except a passing "Do you do those sort of pictures," and a lascivious smile, at which I shook my head. It was Callum's job that held their interest for much longer. He told them about drama college and how the audition process worked, and when he mentioned his agent I thought they would both almost explode with excitement. Callum told them about the play he was in at the moment, playing a student, set in the nineties. Bobby Blue Jumper was leaning very close to Callum by this point, perched on the arm of the sofa, his hand hovering above Callum's shoulder.
I smiled, enjoying Callum talking so passionately about what he did. It was rare to see someone who was so into their job like that. I remembered the first spring asking Chris, in the flat in London, if we could watch Eurovision on the Saturday night. "What for?" he'd replied.
"Just thought it would be a bit of fun. We could do ratings, see who comes out first, see how it compares with the judges' scoring. Come on, it'll be a laugh." I'd run to the other room to get some paper and pens.
"It's naff. It's more than naff, it's awful, it's crap. It's a waste of three hours' TV. Now Terry Wogan's not doing it, you have to listen to that awful Irish comedian camping his way through it. Makes me retch."
I stood in the doorway, holding the paper and pens, hopefully.
"You don't really like it do you? It's just so … gay. That's not you is it?"
Nothing from me in reply on that occasion.
"There's Die Hard on the other side. How about Bruce Willis running round in a white vest for two hours. How does that sound?"
It had sounded pretty gay to me. But a different sort of gay; an acceptable sort of gay as far as Chris had been concerned. I had shrugged, put the paper and pens back and joined him on the sofa for the action film.
"We never win anyway. What's the point if we don't win, eh?" He put his hand on my knee and squeezed it.
Afterwards, when Lena asked me what I thought of the show, as she'd watched it at her place, scoring the acts like we'd discussed, I said we didn't watch it. And Lena had nodded and put away her scoring sheet for another year.
Now, I shook my head and noticed Callum was talking about his auditions and that he had been asked to one in London.
London? To act in London? I tapped his shoulder, gently removing Bobby Blue Jumper's hand and said, "Is the job in London, or just the audition?" Stranger things had happened. He'd schlepped all over Scotland for auditions for things that had been filmed in Edinburgh. There seemed to be a certain amount of rigmarole involved in this acting lark I'd not previously appreciated.
"Aye, it's a play in the West End, so I'd be working down there too."
Blue Jumper's eyes twinkled. "Glamorous. More exciting than this place eh?" He looked around the room. "There's you living it up in London, on the stage, and we'd still be here, selling flowers to people and taking photos for their portfolios." He looked at me and smiled.
"Sweetheart, when did you know about this? It's a big thing. It's a huge change for us. What are we going to do? When would we see each other?"
Callum explained it was a chance of a lifetime, he couldn't pass it up. It was a chance to be on a big West End musical and get his name out there. He said we'd work out the details later.
Gavin stood in the middle of the living room, clinking a glass for everyone's attention. The room fell silent and he gave us a blast of Love Shine A Light from his jacket, before explaining the main show was about to start and could we all take our places. "Big Gav has put some extra seats out, so there should be enough for everyone. I want you all to see the screen, 'cause you'll need to for the ratings. Pencils and paper on the kitchen table. Grab one each and stock up on nibbles, there's no breaks once the acts start. Anyone need the loo, I suggest you go now. Then I'll explain the ratings system I've devised." He flicked his wig back and adjusted his green blouse. "This must be how straight men feel when there's a football match on. Shame this is only once a year, they get it every summer. The World Cup is every year, then there's the Eurovision football thingy every year, lucky them." He picked a bit of fluff off his jacket, clapped and everyone grabbed food, left the room, or stood milling about in anticipation.
Callum looked at me with a smile. "He is joking about the World Cup being every year isn't he?"
I shook my head. "Deadly serious. He won't have the tiniest of microscopic clues. Trust me. Big Gav once tried to explain the difference between rugby league and rugby union, and all he said was he knew all he needed to know about rugby from that Dieux Du Stade DVD he'd got for Christmas one year."
We all took our seats, pencils and paper poised for Gavin to explain the rules of the scoring system. There were two categories: one for singing and musical prowess and originality; two for costume/ dancing/ background effects - anything visual, basically. Each category was rated out of five, giving a total out of ten. Any talking during the performances should be kept to a minimum and if anyone ignored that, they'd get three strikes and they'd be out. "In the hallway, with no drinks, or go home," Gavin ended with.
Big Gav shouted from the other side of the room, carrying some more chairs for some who'd not yet taken their places, "You think he's joking. He's not. Gavin doesn't joke about Eurovision."
The room responded with a loud oooohhhhhh and Gavin turned the TV up and we all concentrated on the act on TV.
After the host country had finished their isn't our country marvellous, please come here for your holidays segment, Gavin shouted "Shit. Fuck I forgot her Ford, what's Lena's Skype thingy? I said we'd Skype her for the performances."
After a few minutes of laptop Skype interface shenanigans, ably facilitated by Big Gav, Lena's disembodied face appeared on the laptop's screen next to the rest of the faces staring from the sofa at the TV. She waved her paper and pencil at us, shouting that she thought she understood the ratings, as Big Gav had just e-mailed
her the rules document Gavin had written from last year's party.
And we were off.
Gavin shushed the room so Lena could introduce herself. "I can not be with you in person because the train are too expensive for me to visit all the time. So I am here through the internet, which is almost as good, I think. I will be doing the marking of the numbers too, just as you all will do. And we will compare what it is at the end." She nodded.
Gavin clapped quickly then said, "If anyone wants to have a one-to-one chat with the lovely Lena, just take the laptop into the kitchen you can have a chin-wag there and she'll be able to hear you better away from the songs. But don't take her away from any of the songs as she doesn't want to miss any for the scoring, okay? Maybe when they do the recap bit afterwards. That's a good time for one-to-one chats with Lena, okay?"
Big Gav appeared behind Gavin, kissed his neck and put his hands around his waist. "Calm down, dear, it's only a party."
Gavin turned, still inside his boyfriend's arms and kissed him on the lips slowly, nibbling Big Gav's face before pulling away suddenly, leaving Big Gavin wanting more and conscious of standing in the middle of the room, straining against his very tight white suit trousers.
"That'll wait for later, come and sit." Gavin looked at Big Gav and patted the sofa next to him. "The laptop battery will last for the whole night won't it? I want Lena to have unrestricted access to the party."
Big Gav patted Gavin's leg. "It'll all be fine." He kissed him, then they both turned to the TV, pencils and paper poised.
Callum and I took our seats and I started to ask him about the London acting job. Gavin shushed me very loudly as the first act was about to start. "Later, I suppose."
Callum squeezed my knee and said, "Don't worry. Trust me."
Five or six songs in, we were all really getting into the scoring game, which was added to considerably by Big Gav's drinking game.
He'd passed around a sheet with the rules - Gavin wouldn't have allowed him to talk that long while the acts were still performing. The rules were simple:
One drink for a group of two men and two women
One drink for a shalalalala or a doobydoobydo type nonsensical lyric
One drink for any costume based gimmick - a la Bucks Fizz in nineteen eighty one when they pulled the women's long skirts off to reveal mini-skirts
One drink for a slow ballad in a foreign language
One drink for a faux rock song in English with nonsensical lyrics
One drink for facial hair
One drink for quiffs for men or women
Halfway through the evening the doorbell rang and as Gavin was glued to the screen, checking it was recording, checking his drinking total and checking his score all at the same time, he waved and shouted to Big Gav to get it.
Big Gav reappeared with Devine, dressed in an ankle length one shouldered golden sparkly evening dress and high heels. Just in case we didn't know who she was dressed as Devine started to sing Dana International's song, Diva, loudly, to the exclusion of the act on the TV at the time; to which Gavin turned the volume up, and Devine responded by singing louder, as she hadn't quite got enough attention from the whole room at that point.
"Fuck's sake, we're trying to watch this. Take a seat, and shut up will you, Devine, or I'll call you Carl all night."
Devine revealed a perfectly shaved leg through a long slit in her dress. "I just want a bit of attention for my outfit. Can't a girl at least have that? For a teeny weeny moment?"
"Sit the fuck down, will you?" Gavin didn't look away from the TV.
Big Gav tried to resolve the situation by suggesting Gavin pause the show - since he was recording it in at least two different formats - give Devine her moment in the spotlight and then resume where they'd left off.
Gavin stood to his full five feet three and eight stone bulk. "I am live tweeting. I cannot, and will not, be behind the broadcast timings, or people will think I'm tweeting about the last act when it's actually the next one. I will not compromise this. Devine, please can you sit down -" he turned to Big Gav "- and my darling boyfriend will get you a drink."
Devine sashayed to the edge of the room and took a seat, crossing her legs slowly.
Callum looked at me and rolled his eyes, whispering, "Love shine a light, I've not seen someone deflate a drag queen like that before."
"Gavin is a force of nature when it comes to all things Eurovision, it seems."
The loud shushing stopped us talking and we resumed our drinking game and score sheet.
Once all the acts had performed and everyone had their score sheets completed, Gavin announced that marked the end of the first formal part of the evening, and Lena was available for chats, in the kitchen as agreed.
A couple of people had disappeared to the spare room and kitchen to chat and laugh, away from the scoring system and drinking game. Some had stuck with it through all the acts and others had sort of drifted off in the middle, slumped to the side, the drinking game having got the better of them.
Bobby Blue Jumper carried Lena's disembodied head on the laptop into the kitchen and started to compare scores. The two Bucks Fizz girls swiped off their skirts then replaced them a few times, and Gavin did a circuit of the party with Love Shine A Light on full volume blaring from his jacket.
"Enjoying yourself?" I asked Callum.
He nodded. "It's all new to me, is this, but I can't deny it's a great laugh. A load of camp old pish, as my nan used to say."
I knew what I wanted to talk about, but was so worried if I reopened that conversation, I'd regret it. But I knew I had to know how we, how us, the two of us, would cope with him being in London all the time.
"What's the show you're auditioning for?" I started with gently.
"PQD. I'm auditioning for the part Guy Pearce plays in the film."
"PQD?"
"Priscilla Queen Of The Desert, you numpty. You seen it?"
Had I seen it? I used to love it. I used to watch it regularly with friends from Bath and Lena. Until I had moved in with Chris. That film fell firmly in the wrong kind of gay category as far as he'd been concerned. Along with The Rocky Horror Picture Show; any musicals, really. Chris had hated those things on principle, even if he didn't really hate them. He wouldn't even give them a try to see if he really did not like them. He just hated them because of what they represented to him. Being too gay. I nodded. "A few times; I've seen it a few times yep. How did you get the call?"
And he told me about his agent who knew someone who knew someone else, who wanted to make the stage musical different in its own way from the film, so people weren't comparing them too much.
"I just thought you didn't look very Australian, with your Gaelic pale complexion and ginger hair."
"Strawberry blond, if ya don't mind." He smiled. "Someone saw me singing and dancing in something I'd done in Edinburgh and they liked it."
"Was that the one where you're wearing a teeny tight vest for most of the play?"
He nodded, grinning widely, with the grin I knew meant he wanted a bit of rough and tumble.
I felt myself respond in my underwear. I felt my heart grow with pride at my beautiful, talented boyfriend, who stood in front of me, talking about getting a job in the West End of London. And here was me, trying to stop him, in my own insecure way. "Bloody good job, too."
"It's six performances a week, over five days. I would get Saturday night and all day Sunday off." He paused, rubbing his silver edged jacket quickly. "If I get it."
Devine and Gavin appeared to one side. Devine struck a pose pouting and exposing one leg from the dress. "We're not interrupting, are we darlings?"
I shook my head. "Just talking about London. Nothing really."
"Congratulations to you on getting the audition in London." Devine kissed Callum's cheeks.
"How did you know?"
She nodded towards Gavin who was holding court in the middle of the room waving his score sheet for all to see, surrounded by Bucks Fizz a
nd Lulu. Devine looked at me. "You're not worried about missing this young hunk are you? Worried you'll not get enough of each other in the week?"
"I just haven't got my head round how it would work. Seeing each other at the weekends. Taking it in turns visiting. How long would the contract be for, that sort of thing." I looked at the ground, simultaneously embarrassed by my lack of enthusiasm for Callum's impending adventure, and how Devine was now involved.
She waved her hand dismissively. "That's just details. None of that matters. If you want to be together and make it work, none of that matters. You'll see each other when you can. It won't be forever, unless it's Les Mis, which ran for decades, didn't it? No, I'm joking. You can always have a break put in the contract if it's running for too long. You don't want to get typecast, sweets." She touched his arm. "Playing one camp drag queen for a bit could identify you to all the right producers and casting agents. Playing one camp drag queen for years on end and you'll always be that camp drag queen, no matter what else you try and do."
Callum nodded. "Aye, I've been told that by my agent, too."
"You two young things can make it work. Skype is a marvellous thing. You can set it up with a laptop, bit of wifi and you're away. Hands free, if you get what I mean." She bumped her hips against mine then Callum laughed. "I must get myself another drink before Baked Alaska is served." She turned to a quite drunk Gavin and eventually it became clear the dessert was due out any minute.
Gavin pointed to Devine's outfit. "And what's this meant to be eh? Since when was Dana International British, eh? It's nil points from me, I'm afraid." He drew a big cross in the air.
"I knew you'd do Katrina. I knew there'd be some Bucks Fizz and Brotherhood of Man going on, I also knew some old queen would do Lulu, and I couldn't bear to be Sandy Shaw - flats and the hippy look isn't as forgiving as all this artifice. I'd have just looked like a bloke in a wig. So Dana it was." She looked at Gavin, an eye brow raised quizzically. "Okay with you, Miss Katrina of the Eurovision Song Contest?"
