Hello Dears, Maggie here. Today, I’m going to take a break from being an international superstar* to tell you all about a little trip I had recently.
As I’m sure you all know from the media blitz surrounding it, one shall soon be starring in one’s own show at Theatre503 in London. A show about that remarkable night many years ago that I got lost in Soho. The night I decided to stop being Prime Minister and instead dedicate my life to entertaining the masses with music, comedy and the best pair of legs in showbiz. The night I became Margaret Thatcher Queen of Soho.
But as I said that night was many years ago. And so, in order to properly prepare for one’s performance, ones decided to refresh one’s memory and take a little research trip back to Soho.
Of course one started at 10 Downing Street. I don’t live there anymore and my presence seemed to annoy the current resident (Cameron, I think his name was), but despite he and his wife Nick’s complaints, I finished my warm Bovril toast in my own time and set off on my journey.
When I arrived in Soho I must admit I was filled with conflicting feelings about some of the items of clothing I saw in the windows of the ‘speciality shops’. I mean, I shudder to think of Mark or Carol leaving the house wearing undergarments with gaping holes cut into them – that’s just asking for a cold. But at the same time, I can’t deny the latex dominatrix suits would look very fetching in blue.
Moving further into Soho I was largely unfazed by the sights, after all I’ve given birth to twins and married a man from Bognor Regis, what’s a ‘Private Show’ or two to me? Of course I didn’t acutally pay for any such shows! Goodness me, no. The doormen recognized me and very kindly let me in for free. And I must admit after I told her to keep her clothes on I had a lovely time with a nice young girl called Sapphire, explaining monetarism to her. Now that’s what I call a happy ending.
Of course I couldn’t take all of it in my stride. Some of the shops were too much even for me and I was filled with horror, disgust and loathing at some of the things I saw. I mean… Falafal! What’s wrong with us? Have we become a nation of ‘vegetarians’? Disgusting. But after a little breather, I managed to walk on by without spitting and promptly purchased a nice meat filled kebab.
After that I went on to a pleasant little club called ‘Gee Ay Why?’ which was very much like the Groucho except slightly more pink. While enjoying a drink and a dance, I was delighted to run into several former members of my cabinet. ‘I wasn’t aware you were also researching shows?’ I said. And they replied by mumbling ‘Yes, well, erm… got to be going’ before making a hasty return home to their families and wives.
As the night went on I must admit I even got a little tipsy. I blame the merrymakers at the club – they kept buying me drinks! But apparently the police would not accept that as an excuse for some of my behavior later. But the less said about that the better… Suffice to say I shan’t be climbing any more lampposts in a hurry.
And so after 3 hours sleep (1 and a half more than usual!) I returned to the rehearsal room the next morning with a new appreciation for that little area of London I got lost in all those years ago. But how has my night out affected my performance? Well, you’ll have to come and see the show to find that out. But of Soho, I shall only say this one thing more, in the end, I feel about it very much the same way Elizabeth II does about Australia. I wouldn’t want to live there, but I am still its Queen. Whether they like it or not.
*I’m big here AND in Jersey
All photographs by Nick Kay