Read Online The Devil Rides Out by Paul O'Grady - Free Book Online

cleavage he’d created. ‘She was the cabaret at the Last Supper, you know, her act’s so old,’ he added in a stage whisper to me.
‘You should know, dear, you were the barmaid,’ Tony jumped in, roaring with laughter, delighted with himself at the speed of his comeback.
    ‘Sad, isn’t it?’ Alistair smiled, patting Mrs Page on the arm in a gesture of mock concern and staring intently into his face. ‘Look at that eek, those bags, those lines, poor old thing. She’s as old as her gags, and they’re ancient.’
    ‘Hark at her, that’s a bit rich coming from a mime act who can’t even fart unless it’s on tape.’
    ‘Why don’t you make yourself useful and put the kettle on, Lime Street Sadie here looks like she could do with a cup of tea after the shock of seeing you in daylight.’
    I was already known as Lil in certain circles, now here I was being rechristened as Sadie. I had an Aunty Sadie, my dad’s sister, and I didn’t think of it as a particularly funny or unusual name. Mrs Page, Chris and Alistair did though, and so Sadie I became. Alistair called me nothing else from that day on.
    He was extremely easy to get on with, warm and good-natured, as was Tony Page. I sat round the table smoking and drinking tea, listening to them gossip and bitch. I felt a little out of my depth at first which made me come over shy, but eventually, prompted by Chris, I stirred myself and fed them a few highly salacious and grossly exaggerated titbits about the prolific sexual activity that was available to any queen who fancied a stroll down the Liverpool dock road. Their eyes stood out like chapel hat pegs as I described the hordes of sex-mad sailors from the four corners of the globe who frequented the gay bars of Liverpool and were just ripe for the picking.
    ‘Who’d have thought it?’ Tony said, whistling through his teeth and looking me up and down. ‘She’s like the League of fucking Nations!’
The more they laughed the more I loosened up and started to enjoy myself. Making people laugh is a potent drug that gives you a real buzz, whether it’s on a stage or in a west London kitchen. I liked these people and wanted them to like me.
    They were different from anyone else I’d ever met. They were showbiz. Not the showbiz of the blues clubs of Long John Baldry or the classical world that Sir John Pritchard lived in – these being the only two people I’d previously met who were famous and worked within the entertainment industry. No, Alistair and Tony Page were something else entirely. They were a different breed, lairy, funny, brave and ever so slightly devious and the world they inhabited sounded daring, exciting and extremely appealing. I felt that I’d found my tribe.
    ‘You should be on the stage, wack,’ Tony said, getting up from the table, ‘and talking of which that’s just exactly what I should be preparing to do.’
    ‘It takes her a long time, you see. It’s tricky getting that iron lung in the back of the car,’ Alistair simpered, smoothing his hair and pursing his lips.
    ‘I shall clean you when I get back, madam, but right now your mother has got more important matters on her mind, like getting to work. I’m resident compère at the Black Cap, you know.’ Tony looked into the mirror over the fireplace and, licking his finger, ran it over his eyebrows. ‘Got to bring the shekels in, so thank God I’m very busy and working every night, twice on Sundays. Can’t complain, dear.’
    ‘Neither can we,’ Alistair chipped in so as not to appear outdone. ‘We’re more or less fully booked for months.’ He turned his attention to a wig that sat on top of the telly, and gently ran a hand across it to see if its heavily backcombed and tortured surface could do with a bit more lacquer.
Alistair was one half of a mime drag double act called the Harlequeens. His partner Phil and he hadn’t been doing the rounds of pubs and clubs for very long but they were quickly becoming extremely