Amy’s Midnight Mass

Christmas came early to NICE ‘N’ SLEAZY‘s with the fantastic Amy’s Midnight Mass! Held on 5th December Amy and her fellow performers jingled our festive baubles with a mix of live music, drag and burlesque.

Hosted by the always gorgeous AMY C ZING, who was kind enough to showcase her own singing talents through a mic, drowning out my sad attempts at carol singing. Amy’s Midnight Mass showcased some of the finest talent that Glasgow has to offer, with performances from FRANS GENDER (performing Jingle Bell Rock as a star fit to top any tree, and showing us that you can neck twelve shots during a lip sync and still be coherent), LACY RAIN (serving us a fierce AF Oogie Boogie from Nightmare Before Christmas; never before have we seen Oogie man turned into Vogueing man while whipping a high ponytail!), and the trouser twitchingly sexy KIM KHAOS (bringing old school glamour and amazing burlesque to our fine city).

A fantastic night chocked full of drag, burlesque, music, drag and overall amy-c-zing performers (see what we did there?!)

Click HERE for the full album

Images by our favourite Christmas teddybear CRAWFORD

Words by Gordon Penman

 

image by Crawford

image by Crawford

image by Crawford

image by Crawford

image by Crawford

image by Crawford

Glitter and Grind: October 2018

The Glitter & Grind Revue returned to the Polo Lounge for another round of fabulous burlesque and performance!

Hosted by Markee de Saw & Kim Khaos, featuring performances from Agatha Frisky, Lolita Va Voom and the Temple of Tease, with headline act Anna Fur Laxis!

From the start this show was intense, powerful and awe-inspiring, with more than one instance of the Sickening crew standing with our jaws hitting the floor.

Do Not Miss their next show on the 8th December at Rothes Halls!

Images by Crawford

 

 

 

 

Barbershop Duo by Allan Craig

One of the best things about being gay is that you get to have sex with other men. For me, this was a crucial selling point when it came time to come out. It took me roughly thirty seconds to make the decision to come out. Here’s how I got there;

Me: Oh, I’m just not sure I want to come out as gay! Inner Gay Voice: You get to have sex with men.
Me: I’m in.

I should say, for reference, that my Inner Gay Voice is Mariah Carey.

Some men however, make the decision to conceal their true sexuality in favour of what I assume they believe to be a less complex life. These men have relationships with women. Even get married. Some of them even have children. They would rather forgo an uncomfortable conversation and live in a mind numbing hellscape of secrecy and deception. No judgment, but fuck that shit.

Of course, the complexities of men who have sex with other men while presenting as straight are more layered than I would ever assume to know. However, I have found myself literally standing on the precipice of one of those layers and even got lost inside it.

I have been having sex with my barber for a year and half. This man is pants-around-ankles hot and is one of the best fucks I’ve ever had. Period. I have never came as hard than when this dude is fucking me. It is borderline explosive. It is also allegorically explosive because this man is married. To a woman.

The date was November 20th 2016. I will never forget that. I’m lying, I had to scroll my texts to find out. I knew I’d sent my friend a message telling her I had just been nailed by the barber. I had been going to this guy for about a year. On my previous visits I felt there was a definite flirtation. I honestly thought nothing of it mainly because it’s not uncommon for a straight man to flirt with a gay man. Some men love approval from gay men. It means that they are in some way more attractive to women if the gays are on board with whatever they have going on. However, based on my experience, a gay man will mainly be motivated by boredom to give a straight man the time of day in that respect as there is possibly no other legit trade in their viewing range. The barber always seemed interested in what I was up to, where I shopped for clothes, where I hung out, what I did for fun. During previous visits, I was passive at best. I answered his questions, but I didn’t give much away. The inactivity of having ones hair cut, for me, is extended to speaking with the person cutting your hair. Relentless and vague questioning is excruciating. I will literally tip people more for not speaking to me. This also includes but is not limited to taxi drivers. Taxi drivers are the authority on inexplicably shit chat.

On this particular day, the barber and I were the only two people in the shop. This meant that the vibe between us was a little more relaxed given there was no expedience on account of people waiting. I noted the shift in tone almost instantly. The banter was rapid fire and there was a lot more laughter. He then asked if I had been out the night before. The truth was that I was actually at home watching old Whitney Houston videos on YouTube, but I told him that I was out at a gay club. I don’t know why but something told me to lie. As if lying would somehow push the conversation further. As though I was testing him to see what he’d ask next. And just like that, the barbers next question took the conversation to the next level.

“Did you suck a dick last night”
I looked at him through the mirror, half smiling. “Maybe” I said.
He continued cutting my hair.
“You like sucking dick” He said
“Yip”
“How smooth are you” He said.

Now. Lets pause here for a second. My phasers were set to stun the second he asked this. Harking back to my point on straight men who flirt with gay men; this was nothing like that. This was a straight up proposition. Our eyes were locked on each other through the mirror. I was thinking of something witty to say but this was not the moment to pepper in some levity to the conversation. We were getting down to brass tacks and I knew for a fact that this guy was genuinely interested in knowing how smooth I was. So I answered honestly.

“Beyonce” I said, with zero irony.

His eyes widened. It is unclear if this was based on intrigue or sheer bewilderment.

The truth is I am smooth. I exfoliate daily with activated charcoal and a giant paddle brush. Followed by a flick of a barbie dolls hair worth of Keihls Creme De Corps.

He cut the last few strands of hair and then unclipped the hair guard off the back of my neck. His last question was still lingering over us. I was repeating it in my head like crazy.

“All done” he said.
As we made our way over to the cash register he asked “What are you up to now?”
“I’m actually about to go shopping”
“Nah, stay here and chat with me”

I was completely fascinated by where this was going. There was no fucking way I was leaving now. I placed my bag on the marble counter and sat on the couch that was usually reserved for waiting customers. But, remember, there was no one else here.

“Do you have pictures?” He asked.

After this question, I absolutely knew that this guy wanted to fuck me and that it was absolutely going to happen. I knew he meant nudes. And I had them to show. I whipped out my phone and searched through dead Grindr chats in order to source a pic. I handed the phone to him. He scanned the photo. Of course, the photo was of my ass, so he was obviously speechless at how spectacular it is. He handed the phone back to me.

“Do you have one?” I said

 

“Nah” He said, giggling.

 

“Well, come on now, that’s not fair!” I said.

“You want to see my dick?”

“Well, you saw my ass.”

Then, without missing a beat, he reached his hand over to the door behind him and opened it.

There are moments in your life where the point of no return is when you are standing with two doors on either side of you, each door leading to very different places and consequences. I was facing the door that lead to the back of the shop. And behind me, on the other side of the room, was the door that would take me out of the building.

“Take your stuff and go to the break room up stairs”

The point of no return was here. Both doors were open. But as is the way when it comes to the point of no return, I let my failure to resist take over.

My visits to the barber continued every Sunday for around four months. He would send me a message on Snapchat to let me know when to come to the shop. Along with the message, I would always feel a relentless gnawing feeling. I knew the man was married and I tucked away any thoughts of being complicit, brushing them off with an indignant “he’s the one who’s married, not me.” But over time I came to realise that there were multiple elements of this affair that I was complicit to. I was indulging in a relationship with a man who was married, and this presented an element of shame that I absolutely did not like. Like I said earlier on, it was not hard for me to come out as gay. At all. My coming out was in no way noble or earnest. I was gay and that was the end of it. So the fact that I was giving credence to this mans perceived denial was completely anathema.

Moral dilemmas aside; it is extremely intoxicating when someone pursues you. But that intoxication becomes somewhat vapid when there is an element of discretion that you are duty bound to adhere to. Duty bound by code. The gay code. And when you are playing within these limits, it gives the pursuer a power that allows them to dictate when and where your dalliances take place. The element of secrecy that I once found exciting and sexy was starting to wane. The indigence of “he’s the one who’s married, not me” was becoming increasingly more difficult to quantify and then exponentially when the man asked me to go to his house. He was was moving his business to the other side of town. This meant he had to get a little more daring in order for us to meet. I knew I was in deep shit at this point. More so when I told my friends.

“DO NOT DARE GO TO HIS HOUSE!”

I didn’t listen. And I wish I did. Because the moment I left, I knew that I was the same as him. I was a liar and a cheat. I made it clear to him after that; no more house visits. As though me making boundaries somehow made what we were doing less wrong. I also began to feel that niggle again. I didn’t seem to be getting a lot out of this. Was this it?

Most of what I am saying to you now was of no consideration to me then. The reason I kept going back was because the sex was incredible. The barber didn’t know how to have sex, he only knew how to fuck. Occasionally there were glimmers of intimacy. He would often put his fingers in my mouth or hug me tight after he came. And it was during these moments that I felt myself become closer to him. I was mistaking brief moments of intimacy with affinity. But, of course, there was no real connection between us beyond attraction. In the beginning I had feelings for the barber. But I learned very quickly that those feelings were based purely on desire. I knew nothing about him. The only thing we had in common was appeal. Therefor I couldn’t possibly ask for more. Because there was no more. The deal was superficial sex. I didn’t have to take it.

I didn’t even consider the idea that I wasn’t the only one he had this type of association. But let me put it this way; based on how this guy fucks, there is no chance on this god green earth that he hasn’t been fucking dudes since he was able to. And this, to me, poses a bigger question. What are the numbers on straight men who are having sex with gay men? And how do the gay men feel about taking on a role that can be seen an transactional? What happens when they start acting crazy and show up to their place of work? Threatening to out them or some shit. And to that end, the only people I give a flying fuck about is me, myself and I. So if the barber had a platoon of side chicks/dicks, then good for him. I’d be over here getting fucked by some other hot guy. He could Snapchat me if he wanted. But if I wasn’t available, then I would ignore him. Bear in mind this was after the “what the fuck am I getting out of this” realisation.

How sexuality is labelled is becoming more complex. There are some straight men who have sex with other men (not even necessarily gay men) purely for sexual pleasure. It’s not about self-identification. It is simply about sex. Period. Are we moving into an era of human sexuality were fluidity is more prevalent? And if so, what does that mean for monogamy? In the gay community it is normal practice for a couple to be “open.” But this is an anomaly in heteroville. But to be fair heterosexual relationships sound like a fucking borefest. I honestly can’t see any woman being OK with their male partner saying “On the weekend, I like a bit of ass.” That will never be accepted in our lifetime. However, that means that gay men will have to accept the fact that this type of liaison is purely sexual. It’s not a relationship. It’s an agreement.

When the affair with the barber was at it’s peak I thought about his wife a lot. I’d close my eyes tight and screw up my face at the thought. Like a reaction to a flashback of an embarrassing thing you once did. She was a person I knew about. But she didn’t know I existed. The aforementioned shame I felt was growing. My entire life has been protected, uplifted and nurtured by women. I was raised by a woman who demanded the respect she gave. Most of my role models are women. My love for Mariah Carey is borderline idolatry. So how could I do this to a woman? That, to me, was unqualifiedly shameful. Like I said before, I never felt ashamed of being gay. Ever. But this is the only thing I can liken it to. I was fucking with someone else’s life. Literally. It was the last call for me and the barber.

In a plot twist worthy of Emmy nomination, I did not get the opportunity to call cut because shortly after what would be my final visit with the barber, the bastard literally vanished into thin air. He had deleted his Snapchat account. This was the only way I could communicate with him. And now I couldn’t. I didn’t even have the satisfaction of telling him that I was over it and he should find some other smooth ass to fuck. Maybe relegate to Jennifer Lopez instead of Beyonce. Initially, I was a little stunned. He had slammed the door shut with as much thought as he’d given to opening it on day one. But then I remembered. I had been given a small role. And I fulfilled it. What was I expecting? F. Scott Fitzgerald and Zelda? They were a pair of drunk lunatics who ended up dead.

I don’t know where he went. I’ll probably never know. But what I do know is that I am worth a hell of lot more than what he was offering.

By Allan Craig

Joe Black – Touch Of Evil: A Celebration Of Villainy In Song

Friday 25th May The Polo Lounge played host to the self proclaimed ‘cabaret reprobate’ Joe Black on the last date of the Touch of Evil: A Celebration of Villainy In Song Tour.

Accompanied by his long suffering sidekick Friedrich Hollandaise, Joe took us on a journey through the songs from the baddest villains in show business.

The duo’s repertoire ranged from the spectacularly performed ‘Poor Unfortunate Souls’ from the Little Mermaid, turning right at Phantom of the Opera and closing the show with the most heartbreaking rendition of George Formby’s ‘When I’m Cleaning Windows’.

This witty, camp cabaret duo are  not to be missed!

Special thanks to Glitter and Grind Review and The Polo Lounge for allowing us access to this fabulous show xx

Words by Gordon Penman

Images by Simon Crawford 

 

Scottish Rubbermen’s Inaugural Pub Crawl

Sickening Glasgow was invited along to capture a few snaps at the first event by the newest, shiniest fetish group in Glasgow.

We got to join them at Katie’s Bar, Glasgow – the third in their five-bar jaunt around the city centre – where they enjoyed a few drinks and showed of their sexiest rubber!

 

Make Them Eat It – Chris

Glasgow, we introduce you to the ever so handsome Chris Carruthers. After meeting Chris at the gym we knew he would be a perfect candidate to #MakeThemEatIt.

As well as being a blogger (be sure to check out his blog), Chris is also a self confessed fitness addict with an amazing pair of legs. Don’t believe us? See for yourself…

Words by Gordon Penman

Images by Crawford

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The Struggle is Real

by Jozef Hamilton

 

So, this is something I thought I would be writing in much better circumstances.

 

I had initially planned upon writing about my struggles with anxiety and mental health one year on from my previous article for the better. Funnily enough, that was the last piece of writing I have done in almost exactly one year to the posting date, so forgive me if these old bones are rusty.

 

I felt really good about opening up and I still do.

 

I felt really good until I was showing my GP fresh self harm scars a few weeks ago, something I haven’t done in over a decade.

 

I felt really good until I was legitimately worried that there wasn’t going to be a tomorrow.

 

I felt really good until I realised that maybe I can’t handle this alone.

 

Something that I haven’t been entirely honest with a number of people was how dangerously close I was to becoming addicted to drugs and alcohol. It’s no lie that I’ve punched in my party time throughout the last couple of years since moving to Glasgow. For a while I was legitimately using this as a form of escape, looking forward to that next buzz. Why worry about a lingering voice of self doubt and destruction when I can poison myself and become emotionally mute? Even if just for a few hours.

 

The name for my struggles was christened ‘Brenda’ in my previous post, a way for me to put a face to the monster that lives under the bed. I’m sad to report that Brenda didn’t suffer an unfortunate fall down the escalators in Primark or get done in by the young team outside of the McDonald’s on Jamaica Street. Nah, sadly Brenda somehow managed to source a megaphone and has whacked the shit out of me harder than an associate of Tonya Harding.

 

Reflecting back on last year’s doubts, it has become less a case of “You’re not good enough” and now a case of, “no one will give a fuck if you disappear, so why not just save everyone the bother?” And I’d love to say that I can always brush that off as just having a self destructive side to my character but honestly, being in a dark place for so long, you can only begin to see darkness and inhale the toxic fumes. Being trapped in a never ending cyclone of negative thoughts is a very, very exhausting way of existing and until recently, I was putting up a pretty decent fight.

 

Living in our social media dominated world isn’t exactly helping either. I’ve had to take a few breaks within the last year or so just so I can gather my own thoughts and process what exactly I’m dealing with. I’m consistently plagued with doubts about both my character and appearance.

 

Anyone who lives like this knows that depression and anxiety go hand-in-hand, its like Sock and Busking but instead of a grin and a grimace, there only exists a pair of deadpan faces telling you that you don’t deserve to breathe the same air as everyone else.

 

The unfortunate thing is that within modern society (as much as we would like to think we have progressed to a point where mental health issues are no longer stigmatized) that is certainly not the case. Within the last few weeks we have seen a number of high profile suicide rates, around 84 men a week take their own lives because of mental health issues and it is the largest killer of men under the age of 45 within the UK. In the wake of such tragic instances, we can at least acknowledge such a serious issue and begin pressing forward to ensure that these numbers see a dramatic decrease.

 

Enough is enough.

 

The problem, I feel, stems from those who are going through difficult times not expressing their concerns and feelings with their support network. I know from my own personal experience and from the words of those around me who have also been affected by anxiety or depression that they don’t want to be a burden on those around them.

 

Sometimes we need help and that’s okay.

 

I’d like to think that by taking the first step and admitting “I can’t handle all of this by myself” could see the path to overcoming these issues.

 

The hardest aspect about living with this is constantly being trapped within a web of self doubt about me as a person and my value. One of my worst fears is being alone and my anxiety unfortunately feeds off of that, my rational mind knows that most, if not all, of these feelings is the result of loneliness but the irrational roars are louder than rational whispers of reassurance. My anxious nature makes me over analyse the most minute of details; why has this person not replied to me? Am I bothering them by trying to engage? Why don’t they reach out to me?

 

I spoke to my boyfriend in relation with this not long ago and confided that I tend to focus on what’s wrong with myself and he advised I should reflect on what’s wrong with them rather than what’s wrong with me? I don’t necessarily think I’m a bad person but being suffocated with self doubt and feelings of worthlessness lead to toxic thoughts. Being alone with these feelings is the loneliest feeling you can imagine and I have been trying to push myself out of my comfort zone by extending my support network and re-evaluating who I can call friends.

 

This has been particularly successful in areas where I have now met one or two people who understand exactly how I feel, relating with similar feeling and anxieties, that certainly brings the loneliness down a notch.

 

Really what I’m trying to say with all of this is that it’s okay to fall over and have to pick yourself up, opening up to others about my thoughts, feelings and problems has been liberating. I feel particularly better now that my GP and workplace know about it and have been supportive. Most importantly however, I’m being honest with myself now, I’ve been struggling to cope and process my own emotions and feelings, not giving myself enough time, trying to bottle up and push them away by occupying myself (which is a really bad idea).

 

I’m now just over a month on Sertraline and I’m starting to notice a little bit of a difference, I also have a steady box of Propranolol to hand at all times just in case things start to amp up a little. Every journey starts with a step.

 

You’re not alone and neither am I.

 

We are all important. We all matter.

 

IF YOU ARE FEELING SUICIDAL OR WORRIED ABOUT SOMEONE ELSE CALL:

Breathing Space – 0800 83 85 87

 

If you are affected by these issues or want to talk, please contact the Samaritans on the free helpline 116 123, or visit the website.

 

Chris Hargan Art Exhibition

Chris Hargan is an artist based in Paisley. A recent graduate from the Glasgow school of Art where he studied fashion design before graduating in sculpture and environmental art. Chris, and two other graduates, are showcasing their work for an exhibition called MATERIALISM at the Maclaurin Gallery in Ayr. The gallery will use a biographical narrative to showcase all aspects of design, allowing viewers to get to know the artists and their thought processes during the creative process. Pieces from the show will also be available to purchase so be sure to take your credit cards.

The show opens on Saturday 25th November 2017 and runs until the 6th January 2018

Chris was kind enough to invite us to his studio in Paisley where we sipped on gin and tonic and chatted about his artwork…

SG – Tell us about your artwork. Do you specialise solely in sculpture?

CH – Yes, I did a lot of casting techniques and I like to combine it with taxidermy and other found objects. I like looking for organic matter when I’m walking or at the beach, which allows me to showcase the natural beauty of those pieces. My recent work has come from the study of natural science along with the Chinese art of Scholars’ Stones.

SG – What are they?

CH – They would find an interesting geological structure, in its own right beautiful, perhaps use an elaborate coral frame plinth or specially carved wooden platform to showcase the beauty of the natural object. So people would have these lovely cabinets of curiosity full of naturally beautiful things with an artifice around that for emphasis.

SG – Did the themes of your studies continue into your work as a solo artist?

CH – Yes, I loved the whimsy and the fantasy that could be incorporated into fashion and going wild with the concept using things like vivid colours etc. to elevate the art form. The fashion industry wasn’t an industry that I wanted to work in personally. After working a few placements, I found the environment a little too callous, wasteful and cut throat. Also the idea of relocating and potentially working as an unpaid intern for several years just wasn’t for me. With sculpture and fine art its perhaps not as commercial but it allows me to incorporate more of my concepts and messages within my pieces.

SG – Is this your first time showing your artwork?

CH – I’ve shown a few times at the Glasgow Art Club on Bath Street whilst I was studying and the Grace and Clark Fyfe Gallery too, however this will be the first collaborative show as we have two other Glasgow School of Art graduates who are also showcasing their work. It’s a composition of our different approaches to materiality and our love of traditional crafts and techniques. We make artwork that’s not so stripped back and minimal that its to just be conceptual but also appreciates the love that goes into making them.

SG –   Are the themes of natural science and taxidermy a running theme in your work?

CH – There are four components that are part of the same piece called ‘Trickle Down Magic Money Trees and Other Myths’ from my graduate show from last year and four new pieces that are a continuation of that theme. I realised that this is the aesthetic that I liked; using casting materials and taxidermy and I’m still getting that out of my system just now. I’m excited to use the taxidermy with new silversmith techniques that I will be learning in Antwerp, where I plan to combine traditional silver vessels with snake handles.

SG – Are you nervous about the event?

CH – Not really, Im just hopeful that we get a lot of people to attend my opening*

*INSERT CHILDISH GIGGLING 🙂

MATERIALISM – Saturday 25th November 2017 until the 6th January 2018 at the Maclaurin Gallery, Rozelle Estate, Monument Road, Ayr, KA7 4NQ

Words – Gordon Penman

Photography – Simon Crawford 

SEB X CRAWFORD: THE DARK

Make Them Eat It – Frans Gender

Anyone who’s been to see a drag performance in Glasgow will be aware of Frans Gender.

Out of drag, Jamie is just as fabulous. Dripping in humour, style & just plain brilliant.

SG might be total fangirls.

Might be.

Enjoy the latest Make Them Eat It installment, shot by Crawford.

You can catch Frans performing, hosting and channelling her inner Fashionista Trashbag every Wednesday at Katie’s Bar and as a resident queen at Trigger in AXM Glasgow.