Fag Hag Diary

The whole world's a stage... 


Fag Hag Sister had a run-in with a peculiarly London phenomenon the other day (no not the bouncer with bad skin who used to work at Shadow Lounge), the smart mouth tramp with an impressive musical knowledge. You know the type, you’ll be strutting along the street like Mads in her Breton top and leathers a la Papa Don’t Preach vid then suddenly a gravelly voice booms something out of a shop doorway to put you off your stride.

Fag Hag Sister’s was a relatively harmless smart mouth – he simply pointed at her boots and yelled, ‘HER BOOTS ARE MADE FOR WALKING EVERYONE!’ before bursting into a cider fuelled chorus of ‘These boots are made for walking’.

The Fag Hag, too, has come across a curiously musically-aware gentleman of the road. As I walked out of Warren Street tube one day and began listening to my mobile messages I suddenly heard a voice from the entrance to McDonalds yell out, ‘Hey, how you doing, sorry you couldn’t get through’. Honestly, when do these tramps get the time to buy back catalogue copies of Curiosity Killed the Cat albums online? He ruined it a bit afterwards by barking, ‘ha ha bitch can’t get through’, but the thought was there.

But one of Fag Hag’s friends got the best tramp action ever when she was serenaded with a chorus of ‘ Ooh ahh just a little bit’ with accompanying dance outside Waterloo. A camp tramp – now what’s not to love about that?


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