Motafrenz Car Club

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Memoirs of an Old Friendship

Words by Paul Hollingworth

I first met my very dear friend Anthony Wiseman in the early 1990s. He was the hot young barman at Three Faces, and was always happy, friendly and engaging – and for some reason my drag-persona would have a compulsion to lick his glasses. I don’t know why, it was pre-COVID and I had the immune system of a twenty-two year old – and the sense of an apple it would seem.

Anyway, Anthony has been my friend, pretty much, ever since – he even came to my sister’s straight wedding! I would also have taken him to my sister’s gay wedding had we not been locked out of Queensland. But, that’s not the story I want to tell today…

By the time this story started, I was a minor drag celebrity and Anthony was a manager at Hungry Jack’s. “Hey Paul, would you like to come with me to the Hungry Jack’s Christmas party? Maybe we could both go in drag, it will be fun”. Of course I agreed – random drag queens and corporate functions were all rage in those days – long before it was all corrupted by Drag Race.

I had worked at Hungry Jack’s in Townsville when I was at school, so I still had my name badge. In preparation for the event, I replaced “Paul” with “Amanda” and I picked out my sexiest red dress. But, I’ll come back to the dress later. Oh, before I forget. My drag name was Amanda Dyfoure and Anthony’s was Anne Fanny (I still call him Fanny as a term of endearment – although, more often than not, “they call her Fanny coz she’s a c*nt!”).

On the night, Fanny came over to St Kilda to pick me up. I was living in St Kilda East at the time, and Fanny was always proud to say she lived in the Golden Mile of Canterbury. I was sure to tell her she really lived in the Golden Shower of Canterbury, but maybe that story can be in Part 2 or Part 3. So, the dress, it was so tight that I could not bend in it, and my hair was about 30 cm tall, so we had to recline the seat and I travelled to the party lying down.

Needless to say, Fanny and Amanda made a great impression on the other guests and were the talk of the town! As was always the case in those days, Amanda drank too much and had a great time. The dress was so tight and difficult to take off and put back on that I was unable to go to the toilet all night!

The night progressed, some fat guy emptied his sack, and we were off home.

The trip home was different to the trip in. For starters, I was free to remove my hair, dress and shoes. This allowed me to sit up in the front seat – even though I was only wearing my bra, stockings, knickers and drag-face. Unfortunately, though, a police car pulled us over, claiming we ran a red light, or an amber light too late, or something. “Good evening, ummm, ma’am…. Jesus, what is that on your passenger seat? Maybe I’ll get you to blow into this for me”. Amanda was trying, unsuccessfully, to maintain her modesty while Fanny was taking her breath test. The copper went away and when he came back he claimed that Fanny was over. “Okay, ma’am, you’ll have to leave your car here and get a taxi home, you can pick it up in the morning”. “What about my friend, she only lives a kilometre or so from here, can you drop her off?” says Fanny. “Not bloody likely” was the reply.

Well, off we set for the walk to my place. As you can imagine, once I was standing up, and without the restrictions of my dress, I was busting for a pee! But we were in the middle of inner-suburbia and everything was closed! What to do? I did the only thing available to be, I peed on someone’s front hedge. Can you imagine, a 180 cm tall lady with her hair on askew, her dress draped over one shoulder, her shoes in one hand and her dick in the other, mostly peeing all over her feet? The height of elegance and sophistication!

Fanny, all the while remained a good support, ensuring I didn’t fall into the hegde or break a nail, and got me home safely. Hmmmmm, thinking about it, maybe she peed on the hedge too – was it her pee on my feet?  After stumbling back to my place trying to hail a taxi, they must have all been busy on Miss Candy jobs, or was it Miss Candy was busy with them? We walked what felt like an eternity, only for Fanny to leave me to continue stumbling home whilst she went back to drive home! Seriously I don’t know why she went back for the car, and how they both survived getting home,  but considering she had it for several more years, I assume she was able to do it successfully. It was a good little car that Renault 19.

And now, 30 years later, I have finally found the perfect medium to share it on.

Love and kisses, your dearest,

Amanda ❤️💄 

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