FEROCITY

DISCLOSURE: This post has no relevance to Maggie Thatcher’s death. Sorry to disappoint! (Although I did try to find a drag queen version of her)

It has recently come to my attention that ‘lad culture’ pales in comparison to queer culture (think Paris is Burning, not Glee or The New Normal or any other moral-heavy Ryan Murphy slurry). So, you think that low-cut All-Saints tees, waxed chests, diamonds in your left ears and jaeger seeping out of your pores makes you macho? Wrong. Anyway, what have you for to fight for besides a one night stand? What’s all that carefully fake-tanned muscle really for besides lonely nights in with your laptop? Oooooooh, scathing words! Where did they come from!? Sorry to preach (and probably offend), and sorry that Paris is Burning is becoming the core topic of my every post, but the trans population live a far more dangerous life than the lads and jocks of the world. #Hallelujah #PraiseBeToVenusXtravaganza #WhatHaveIbecome?

Anyway, the point in this post was to provide you with a few unabashedly camp and brilliant tunes for you to belt along to whilst you’re finishing off that hun cal salad (to keep the muscle off of your arms), fitting your wig cap, painting on some new brows and lighting a Marlboro or two. You will go to the ball. Don’t pretend you don’t enjoy it.

P.S. How great is RuPaul’s Drag Race? If I was a queen my name would be Patsy Eleven Stone and I’d look like this:

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