LEIGH BOWERY

The chameleon king of the club freaks actually came from New South Wales, Australia. He took a 'vital interest' in London's clubs (Pyramid, Cha Cha's and The Jungle) the moment he set foot in Blighty - at the very start of the '80s - and that soon inspired him to launch Taboo, his own club night. If it wasn't the instant success it's made out to be (having to compete with the ultra-popular Pyramid), it eventually took the capital by storm in 1985. Leigh ruled the roost, swishing around in scary outfits and looking as uncontrollable as a kid in a sweet shop. When the Old Bill closed the place down after 18 months (shock, horror, drugs were being used!), Bowery was quick to beat the iron while it was still hot. He worked his agenda to the full, sharing his time between chat shows, TV PAs, pop videos, Michael Clark shows, Lucian Freud modelling sessions, Raw Sewage and Minty performances and doing regular club PAs abroad. I was quite fond of him as he could be totally charming when he wanted to be. Out of drag, he bore an uncanny resemblance to Benny Hill, even down to the naughty glint in his eyes. I would visit him once in a while in his East London council block. I remember traveling to Paris with him whenever I'd organized a booking for him at Le Palace. It would take at least a book to catalogue his shenanigans there alone. I'd also catch up with him in New York for Wigstock. Naturally, my knowledge of the complex character is pretty thorough. Suffice it to say that there was never a dull moment in his company. He had a circus-size ego, more energy than the national grid and an ambition you could sharpen knives on. Oh ... and he was quite twisted, but that goes without saying, doesn't it? Given the amount of self-promotion and networking he indulged during his life, his career achievements outside the club scene proved to be comparatively small. That's presumably because Leigh didn't really have the ability to design, act, sing, dance or host TV shows convincingly, even though he got commissioned and paid to do all those things. Whenever exposed to him, the general public were in turn intrigued, amused, shocked, horrified, but they didn't exactly buy. His only real talent lay in the way that he could turn his own appearance into an amazing art form. And the only platform which suited that pursuit perfectly had to be clubland. Since his death at the end of '94, no one has managed to get anywhere near his vacant disco throne.