Twisted @ Katz nightclub in Basildon. Sunday 16th November2008.

Comes a time in every simple tranny's life when the lure of Essex proves toostrong to resist. Who could say nay to  a visit to the birthplace of the whitestilleto? Eat your
heart out Gracelands.

And so it came to pass that Miss Britne and I, fortified by a goodly quantityof properjob London curry, packed our vast and bulbous wardrobe bags, saddled up our camels,and trekked east for a couple of days along the historical  Sunsilk Road,bearing gifts of exotic sweets for the legendary fair maidens of Basildon.

The perils we encountered along the way were minor  travails  forseasoned travellers like ourselves, and we dealt easily with the fierce brigands and gangs of roamingneanderthal chavlets. It's amazing, the effect that brightly coloured beads have on theless developed.
Fortunately, we had etched the word "duv" onto them, so we weretreated like royalty and our camels were even watered with a case of TescoValue lager. Splendid!

Having survived the arduous journey to deepest Essex relatively unscathed, wesuddenly found ourselves in a strange world of plentiful off-street parking,with seemingly endless roundabouts, furniture shops and garish funeral parlours. The exotic delightsof Basildon. We had arrived at last!

Tethering our  camels to a handy white van, we plucked up our courage andstrode confidently  into the plush environs of  Katz Nightclub.

A host of friendly and familiar faces greeted us with cries of "city dwellers!""grockles" and "ten pahnds pliz".  Afterconsulting our rhyming dictionaries, we realised that it was a local rite ofpassage, and handed over some real munny, which seemed to calm the natives.  We then made the traditional ritualsacrifice of   small sugary sweets  to  the tribal leaders,and  were directed inside tochange into something a little less comfortable.

The spacious gents loos lacked nothing in terms of facilities, save perhaps fora lock on the cubicle door. For urbane trashqueens  like ourselves,this was a  minor inconvenience.

Half an hour later, we emerged, dragged-up to the nines and reeking of cheapperfume, into the plush red carpeted environs of the club itself and headed tothe bar for some intensive breezer therapy. Acclimatisation pays dividends.

The club itself is well laid out and decorated in a mildly futuristic style,full of nooks and crannies, where the less well behaved could be shown theerrors of their ways.
The Playpenz kit was laid out with generous amounts of space around each piece,and seemed to find appreciative users throughout the evening.

The carpet seemed very popular with the legions of footworshippers and humanfurniture.  It certainly made a changefrom the more usual London decor of spilt lager and stale chewing gum.

The clientele were a friendly bunch, for the most part, and once we'd shakenoff the  attentions of a local very drunk trannyman (later ejected forbeing a bit too much of a twat), we were made to feel very welcome by allconcerned.  For inveterate full on Torture Garden clubberati like ourselves, the chance tochill out and relax in comfortable surroundings and engage in interestingconversations without having to bellow over the beats, was a welcome andconvivial change.

Miss Britne, in her sumptuous blue doll outfit seemed to be quite the centre ofastonished attention. She's such an attention whore!  It would appear that the extreme rubberdoll total enclosure scene has yet topervade  Basildon, although signs of transvestism were plainly visibleamong the clientele.

Mistresses Vixen and Malice were perfect hostesses, and made us feel verywelcome, even though we were obviously strangers in a strange land.  The scattering of familiar faces made socialising a very straighforward affair,and we both thoroughly enjoyed the evening.

Although the club was far from full, there were enough outgoing  andaffable people having  enough fun tomake the adventure worthwhile.  A Bank Holiday Monday no doubt makes  the logistical challenge a lot lessdaunting for those with working lives to attend to.

I'm tempted to return in February when the next event takes place, even thoughI have a strange feeling that it will be the night after the TG Valentine's bash, socompost mental may well be my middle name.

For those of you who are contemplating the arduous journey east on a Sundaynight, the A13 from Tower Bridge to Basildon is about 15 minutes of speedcameras (at the Commercial Road end) followed by 30 minutes of very clear dualcarriageway all the way to Basildon..
It took longer to get from Euston to Whitechapel, than it did to get fromWhitechapel to Basildon.

The transport aspect is clearly an issue, with trains back to London ceasing ataround 11:45, so getting organised and sorting some wheels in advance is probably theonly practical solution for the intrepid fetish club explorer. Anyone rememberforward planning?

Miss Britne and I both enjoyed the whole experience immensely, and would liketo express our heartfelt gratitude to all the good humoured Twistees who madeus feel so welcome, and particularly to Vixen and Malice for being so generouswith their time.


Th-that's all f-f-folks!


eevyl dragbitch (miss)