The local coffee shop at one of the offices is owned and run by this most wonderful person, who goes by the name of Sherri. The name on their license is Lance, short for Lancelot, as I found out the other day, but Sherri has been serving me coffee, when I was drinking it, for the last year. Tonight, I made it to the Drag Queen Bingo that they host on a Tuesday night at Lizards Bar down the end of Mitchell Street. My colleagues went last week. This week, a group of six of us made the pilgrimage down to the Daly Street roundabout, passing the backpackers places, and ice cream bars, and the rub and tug massage shops, and milling itinerants to get to kick off at seven.
I've never played bingo before. I'm not sure that bingo is supposed to be quite like this, but golly gee, it was fun.
Sherri is a top host. (oops, top... tee hee). We dutifully paid the $20 to get our bingo tickets, with some of us taking a few raffle tickets for "Chase the Queen" - a potluck of a chocolate wheel and then drawing from a deck of cards. You basically had two chances of winning the jackpotted kitty. None and fuck all.
Regardless, we settled in for two hours of hilarity and filth.
It was awesome.
Something many don't know about Darwin - it has a thriving and vibrant drag scene, and from what I've been told, Sherri has been a stalwart of the group for years.
As for the bingo, the double entendres came at a mile a minute.
One of our group was a little taken aback. First out of the stables were the top and bottom jokes (You got bingo if you completed either a top or bottom line on your card - see, nothing smutty about that.) Most of the group were tittering away.
"Top and bottom? What's so funny?" they asked.
Another of our group patted their arm and said they'd explain it to them after.
"You don't have many gay mates? Do you?" I asked.
They responded in the negative, so I shrugged my shoulders and let it ride. They'd pick up - just as they learned about the euphemistic intent of devon, or straz, or fritz (you know, luncheon meat, comes in like a big sausage arrangement - the name depends on what state you come from - it still means a penis... yeah, you've picked up the lingo.)
Sherri called the numbers. None of the regular two fat ladies, 88, Legs eleven, Two fat ducks, 22.
Sherri had their own version of the bingo calls, such as 31, finger up your bum.... That's one of the less outlandish calls.
I don't need to say more.
You don't want to be a prude and go to Drag Queen Bingo.
Instead, you either drink copious some alcohol while you're there, or insert your childish, smutty sense of humour (oops, I said insert.... tee hee) and get on with the hilarity.
Sherri is divine. A true Darwin gem.
This is some of the most fun you can have for $20 on a school night in Darwin that doesn't involve copious amounts of alcohol or a visit to one of the many "massage" places with the neon signs out the front advertising that "Tammy" is available.
And I get why people love bingo. It's just a little bit exciting, even without a lairy drag queen out the front spitting one liners at an alarming rate. (sip... sip... swallow...) or making you pump up condoms using your bum on the pump.
It's an experience. I'd go again, even it was to take a slightly greener team member along to watch their reaction. It's wonderful, cleanish fun.
What else are you going to do on a Tuesday night?
So, we walked back to the hotel on this oppressively warm night, back past the backpackers and the ice cream bars and the rub and tug massage parlours and the milling itinerants - in my case, singing Oasis songs, because why not, and I was home just after nine.
I'll be going again.
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