Nancy Clench

Well, it’s been quite a week! Since I started as a guest columnist for The National my global reputation has ballooned, the Admiral Duncan has been packed of a Monday night, and I’ve been inundated with media enquiries. I met a journalist last week who asked if anyone had done an exclusive on me yet. I told him only the Daily Record, the New York Times, Attitude magazine, and Buzz Feed news. He looked crushed. I love all this new found adulation; I’m waiting for the celebrity endorsement offers to roll in, and hoping it results in free samples of make-up and extra-large pantyhose. And a new bra. I’ve been told that Nancy needs to invest in some more glamorous lingerie. So far it’s just Astroglide lubricant.

FOLLOWING last week’s piece, I’ve got to thank Kirsty Blackman MP and Alison Thewliss MP, among others, who kindly sent me the invitation to the UK Gout Association’s Parliamentary Reception. Talking of MPs, I overheard two of them talking about the TIE campaign in the canteen the other day. One seemed to think it was something to do with bondage – which I’m quite certain is a reflection of his own sordid obsessions – while the other was insistent that it was something to do with compulsory school uniforms. (I’m all for that, by the way. It’s smart.) However, they were both suffering from that affliction endemic among politicians of talking about things of which they know nothing; that, or they were trying to cover up that they were sleeping off a hangover during the briefing. In actual fact, the TIE campaign stands for Time for Inclusive Education and it’s aim is to combat homophobia, biphobia and transphobia through inclusive education in Scotland’s schools.

THOSE who count Nancy Clench among their acquaintances will know that fine food and drink are my second favourite thing in the world. I am quite the epicure, and can assure readers that my status as Scotland’s Biggest Drag Queen has been enhanced more by these cultured and expensive tastes than by the tequila swilling public image of my famed cabaret act. I am quite a different person in real life, more often to be found at home cooking up a storm in the kitchen than trawling the seedy bars of Soho – despite what you may have heard.