So, what is cabaret to me? I am glad you all asked.

With the invention of cabaret by the French (you are welcome) the duty has naturally fallen on me to uphold this majestic tradition of spectacle, skill and casual nudity.

And in a world of rising puritanism, censorship and cultural idiocy (not to mention the increasingly less metaphorical march of our robotic replacements), I feel that this form of live entertainment is something our populace requires more than ever.

Cabaret is for the discerning bons vivants of society, who arrive with senses attuned and in their finest garments, ready to enjoy the subversion of norms and a display of skills which only a minuscule percentage of Earth’s population would even consider mastering.

It is almost certain that the term “cabaret” derives from the French “chambrette” which the educated among you will know indicates a small room. I think this may be my favourite way to present such a show – how can one truly read a room without being able to look everyone in the eye? And while I have very much enjoyed my larger-scale shows in various Spiegeltents around the world, my monthly shows at Brasserie Zédel’s subterranean art deco bunker are where the magic really gets contained and diffused.

I have many fond memories from over the years:

• The look on the venue manager’s face as a performer’s tits exploded with more ferocity than anyone expected, in a sizeable multi-room venue in London with a notoriously sensitive smoke alarm.
• Finding myself standing on the shoulders of a circus performer in Edinburgh, clinging on to the ceiling with one hand while reciting poetry.
• A feisty compere at London’s Café Royale dealing with a woman who had been on her mobile phone throughout the performance by looking her in the eye, taking a drink of her champagne, then slamming the glass down with such force it broke – the breakage was unintentional but the disdain was very much conveyed.
• Being carried horizontally by the audience to the back of a theatre, notably a theatre with upwards raked seating – no mean feat on the part of that audience, who somehow completed this challenge with their hero unharmed.
• Floating across a repurposed swimming pool reciting my verses while the audience gazed lovingly from the sides.
• Multiple bizarre offerings from audience members during my “audience entertainment section” – a staple of my Spiegeltent shows – including a woman who could talk backwards, a man who could play the piano backwards and a man who approached the stage with a bag of spoons around his waist and proceeded to play them frenetically and musically (frontwards). One time
  an immensely drunk trio of audience members took to the stage with a taxidermy fox they claimed they had found en route. This occasionally haunts my dreams.

I would love to say “je ne regrette rien” but there was one incident during a Cabaret Fantastique show at Edinburgh Fringe where I had booked a musical double-act who performed a song about attending a Thai ping pong show. In-keeping with the theme, yet unknown to the aforementioned act, I had enlisted two fellow performers who were able to perform such vaginal ping pong feats, who came to the stage during that song to further illustrate the scenario to the audience. I was subsequently informed by the act in question that this was not only distracting, but poor form. It is hard to disagree with either of these claims. They did not bear a grudge but I made a note to check with an act should this situation ever arise again.

There was another occasion, also at Edinburgh Fringe, although this time at Reuben Kaye’s The Kaye Hole, which involved me sacking off his house band to bring on my own band. The producer had been informed, the musicians had not. Being from the land that invented etiquette (you are, once again, welcome) I perhaps should have let them know in advance, but look, I also believe spontaneity is a key component of cabaret. Nobody died, nothing exploded.

So, you are welcome to my Soho chambrette any time (if it’s not sold out). Bravo to the remaining venues for continuing in the face of rising costs, one can only hope the UK takes note of the €475,000 funding package given to cabaret venues by the French government…

Bravo to the performers for continuing to elevate the art form in the face of cheap and tawdry distractions. And finally, bravo to me, for maintaining a ludicrously high standard in this genre, in the face of everything. I shall continue to do so until I collapse, or until society collapses, whichever occurs first.

Vive le cabaret.