I Put A Spell On You – The Railway, Winchester Review
The Railway is deceptive to the common person who comes through the door. With traditional wooden beams, low ceilings and a tidy bar, but in the far corner hangs a sign that reads:
‘Ladies and Gentlemen Keep Going This Way To…
Dr. Strangelove’s Burlesque Discotheque.
Le Freak? C’est Chic’
in typography probably designed by a local art student with a flash MacBook and a Moleskin.
Friday night I was the common person who followed the sign and as if entering a dungeon of sin, I ducked down some small stairs and joined the frenzy of ecstasy underground. In the misty green and red lights I was greeted by a man dressed in a hooped skirt, carrying a tray of colourful Loveheart sweets that matched the blush on his cheeks. To call him a transvestite would be wrong. He struck me as a boy, skinny limbed, wig slanted, who had dressed in a mixture of his mothers and Willy Wonka’s cocktail wear.
I took a handful of sweets and sucked on their sweet sherbet as I ordered a double Bacardi and lemonade from a barman who’s impressive ginger flattop entranced me as he danced about in a shell suit.
As I shuffled through the crowd I met a host of dreamland characters. A young Lionel Richie - who was attempting to dance on the ceiling, a half naked Courtney Love with dark red lipstick on parts of her face that I assumed wasn’t planned – complete with her very own Kurt Cobian who, ironically, rolled a cigarette wearing an old Nirvana t-shirt.
Then, my personal favourite, a red and yellow Boy George approached me. His make up was different to The Sweet Boy’s - who danced around obscenely to cover his embarrassment, no; Boy George’s make up was beautiful. He reminded me of a Geisha, his face painted in bright white with large jet-black cat-like flicks around his eyes. He put his arms around me, pulled me close to him and for a moment we danced like this, my Bacardi slouching onto his back, to ‘Wild One’. Our hips ground together as Jerry Lee Lewis’s voice dripped from the walls like melted chocolate, then Boy George reached down to my legs, abruptly yanked at my stockings, then strode away, leaving me amongst the decades of music.
Near the stage at the back of the room was a large red feathered hat bobbing around, when I drew nearer I saw a women dressed in a vaguely Victorian dress with a pot of black paint and a brush, she clocked me and came over. Her soft face sported a thick, black, cartoon moustache, slightly smudged at one end - she drew on my upper lip a matching one.
In the toilets I found two girls undressing each other in front of the only sink. As I squeezed past their bare flesh to wash my hands, one grabbed me by the arm, the other by the waist and before I knew it I had experienced my first kiss with a girl – but Katy Perry was wrong, she didn’t taste like ‘cherry chapstick’, just of coke and vodka. Cheap vodka, that burned my lips as she stuffed her tongue into my mouth and that tingled my chest as I crept back to the floor to watch Dr Strangelove strip down to his Primark boxers, his farcical top hat and a bow tie, I joined the crowd to cheer.
Who would have known Winchester was hiding such a dirty secret as The Railway? I leave you with the song that my head played on repeat as I awoke from the elation Dr Strangelove inflicted on me…
‘I Put A Spell On You – Screamin’ Jay Hawkins
I put a spell on you
’cause you’re mine
You better stop the things you do
I ain’t lyin’
No I ain’t lyin’
You know I can’t stand it
You’re runnin’ around
You know better daddy
I can’t stand it cause you put me down
I put a spell on you
Because you’re mine
You’re mine I love ya
I love you
I love you
I love you anyhow
And I don’t care
If you don’t want me
I’m yours right now
You hear me I put a spell on you
Because you’re mine.’
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