Good things can come out of dirty nightclubs

So I caught up with one of my oldest and dearest friends the other night. His name is Lee-Roy and he’s a bit weird. He wouldn’t even mind me saying that, we’ve been telling him for years. He’s one of those guys who has never played by the rules, he makes up his own. He’s home for a visit from London so he can catch up with everyone and show us his new beard. It’s a very impressive beard although it does remind me of the Amish. Well, the gay Amish.

Lee-Roy and I met way back in the 90’s when we could both podium dance with our shirts off (he still can, I would empty the bar). We met at the most glamorous of establishments – the Beresford. Not the polished and posh Beresford we know today, but the dirty, smelly, skanky day-club that was an institution for so many years. The Beresford used to be pure trash but oh so brilliant fun. You could play all day with bikies, drag queens, the homeless, models, amputees, the rich and famous – it was an absolute freak show. Lee-Roy and I used to fit right in, we did some of our best floor-work at that bar. We spent far too many weekends wallowing in our own filth at the Beresford.

Lee-Roy

We became friends by accident because I thought he was friends with Miss Cal, Miss Cal thought he was friends with me, and around the circle it went. Before you knew it he was part of our inner circle. Every party/dinner/drinks since then Lee-Roy has arrived fashionably late wearing something ridiculously fashionable. His concept of time is quite different to everyone else’s although he is improving with age. The running joke for many years was “Lee-Roy hasn’t been home since ’89!”. He’s always loved a nightclub our Lee.

Lee-Roy has been in London for a few years now and last year I was best-man at his wedding. It was a beautiful day, not only because it was Lee-Roy’s wedding but it was also my first gay wedding. God love the English for legalising it. We’ve been through enough shit together to know that we don’t have to speak often, see each other even less, but can pick it right back up where we left off whenever we catch-up. He’ll make fun of my waist, I’ll make fun of his clothes – nothings changed in 15 years. I love him to death.

So it was brilliant to see him this week and hear all about his adventures. He’s now running bars, riding bikes (go figure!) and planning 6 months in Paris. He truly makes the most of everything our Lee-Roy and you gotta have a lot of respect for that. Now we have civilised dinners together rather than 24-hour benders. We are positively all grown-up and mature now, and definitely getting better with age. And to think it all started by accident in a death trap of a day-club.

I just wish he’d lose that gay Amish beard.