Pope Alice writes in Pride magazine

January issue


February issue


Get Down and Kiss that bitumen!

Tuesday, 22 January 2008

Having cavorted at carnal carnivals across the galaxy, alien interloper Pope Alice declares nothing beats Down Under’s Mardi Gras.

Mardi Gras (trans: Fat Tuesday), that great religiously inspired annual orgasmarama, queerly paraded on a Saturday evening in Oz, is 30 years old.

The ’78 pioneers resisted police and Bible-basher vigilantes to defiantly march through the streets of Sydney.

How times change. “God Loves Fags! God Loves Fags!” I think that’s what they were screaming last year at Hyde Park. Who notices these days? Who even remembers our own 1995 tribute to LesboGay Oxford Street, “˜Get Down and Kiss that Bitumen’?

Okay, who remembers 1978 at all? Just what we thought: we’re speaking to kittens “” pussy Earthlings so casual about their own history.

People died to bring you Mardi Gras. Rev. Fred Nile can’t sleep thinking about it, John Laws poured airwave bile over it and you agonise over party frocks. “And what costumes shall a poor girl wear to all tomorrow’s parties?” Pay attention to history or there’ll be no parties tomorrow.

It’s generally forgotten (in this case a good thing) that Carnival was mostly Roman Catholic and, to some extent, Eastern Orthodox. Brazil creates the largest “” a HetFest (kind of) “” but don’t fret, pets. Those sexy Brazilians share carnal, carnival knowledge with anybody. We’ve been there “” plenty for everyone.

Acclaimed in Venetian Grand Parades, we’ve danced with our space-cadet friends, the Raelians, in Mardi Gras Oz, shimmied with zonked-out Voodoos in Haiti, celebrated Durga Puja with tongue-piercing, blood-curdling, scary, hairy, Mumbai Marys, consorted and dined with festive drag kings and cavorting queens everywhere.

The winner, hands down “” Down Under’s fabulous protest event, Oz Mardi Gras, the largest, most glamourous “˜outing’ in the solar system; a revolution continuing right into your face today. It’s a hell of a lot more than tits, teeth and tush.

Religiously inspired Mardi Gras has been transformed. Queers make their own Heavens now. It takes a fairy Mary. Consider the great contributions pansy-lemonfolk have made to religious theatre: the drag, the endless hours of kneeling devotion, the ceremony, the music, the art, the appreciation of male beauty. But is the church grateful? No, it maintains an open faghunt season and refuses to let in the light.

Warning, pink children! Old Queen Benedict XVI, the Wicked Witch of Rome, is broomsticking to Oz in ’08 for a GlossCross-YouthFest. A bus line packed with happy-clapping, homo-hating, Jesus-Loves-Me automatons is planned to stretch in dismal dullness from Melbourne to Sydney mid-year. Play safe, dears. Accept no candy.

Happy Mardi Gras.