The air in the red light district of Soho is that of decadence amidst adult themed shops and dimly lit somewhat dinghy looking restaurants and bars. There’s a sense of danger, excitement, something unknown in these by lanes. One such pub with green paneled glass windows guarded by a heavy main door and in absolute contrast a cheerful friendly doorman is the popular gay bar Molly Moggs.
The place is no bigger than a room jam packed with limited tables and seating. Be prepared to be on your toes for hours. The drinks are not cheap with £15 for 2 glasses of prosecco. The crowd is mostly happy and gay men ranging from young and hip in straight-fit lean pants, pointy shoes, spikes in hair to old, balding and sedate. Lesbian couples abound as well. If you are straight, you may start to feel gay (pun!). I for one was quizzed if my girl pal was my ‘fella’ who wasn’t too thrilled to be perceived as the butch. “We are straight!” we protested.
The limited space holds a dais where a stunning Drag Queen takes centre stage belting out retro numbers on karaoke with a sense of longing and nostalgia. Reminds you of Bond movies. The Drag Queen and her styling with platinum blonde wig appears to somewhat resemble one of Sean Connery, Roger Moore’s 60s bond girls. Think Pussy Galore and the likes. The Drag Queen will take quite a few breaks during the evening for a change of outfits all full of bling.
If you’re someone who blushes beet root red then you may have a permanent blusher on your cheeks by the end of the evening. Oh yes! Be prepared for moans, grunts and to be asked if you blow or suck as the the Drag Queen engages in humorous, sexual banter with random members of the crowd bringing the house down with incessant cheers and laughter throughout the evening. The pandemonium attracts curious street goers peeping in through the windows wondering what the brouhaha is all about while some are compelled enough to walk in slicing their way through the crowds.
Do update your vocabulary as Fuck off = Hello here. Do avoid a bursting bladder. A spiraling creaky wooden staircase at the back leads to a basement toilet. The Gents room is open! On the day of our visit the ladies toilet had poo on the sink. How did it get there? was a mystery every girl who queued up to the toilet racked her brains with for precisely 30 seconds before giving up.
One of the friendly lesbian couples who earlier broke our glass of wine was generous enough to bring us shots of Malibu. When it was time to leave and hugs were exchanged, did I imagine it or did one of the lesbians feel all of my body during the hug? Never mind. Indeed a happy, naughty, friendly bar. Great acts by the Drag Queen with some superb entertainment, a great stress buster. A place you will want to visit again, be happy and gay. (No pun!)
