BY NICK MOLLOY

Read more in Road Warrior: Confessions of a Male Stripper

The world of the male stripper – glitz, glamour, fame, wealth, celebrity. It is often assumed that all the above terms apply to male strippers but in reality none of them actually do. More adept descriptions would be toilets (common changing areas), heckling, abuse, long drives, eye openers and sex.

Being a male stripper is sometimes a bit like being a celebrity with none of the protective mechanisms. Male strippers drive themselves and carry their own bags. They get heckled and adored in equal measure. My phone number is widely available (how else would prospective people book me), but this means I get an array of weirdoes phoning me up at strange hours. Some I have met on my travels, others I have never even heard of. Unlike genuine celebrities, the male stripper is accessible. You can book him, talk to him, touch him and harass him at anytime.

If the male stripper should spurn the advances of a catalogue of wishful suitors he must be prepared to pay the consequences. In the case of agents/drag queens, this may mean you don’t receive future calls about potential work. In the case of Joe/Joanne Public this may mean that they will launch into a tirade against you. The male stripper is unlike any other variety act because other acts sell purely on their entertainment value. The male stripper by contrast also sells sex (appeal). This unfortunately leads to disappointment and bruised egos when he doesn’t go home with everybody. The DJ/hypnotist/singer/ventriloquist isn’t expected to go home with the audience. The male stripper on the other hand is expected to do just that from a surprisingly high proportion of his fan base. If he does engage in carnal acts with any member of the audience then he can expect mass hostility from those that remain. After all, she is bound to brag about what she just did with the stripper. Trust me, I know.

During my time as a male stripper I have seen things that most people probably never will. If they did they would probably classify them as bizarre, mad, or downright depraved. For example, after performing in a gay club once there was a man in a sling in the corner of the room having a traffic cone inserted into a part of his anatomy where the sun doesn’t shine. His eyes weren’t even watering ! Another time, in a gay club I emerged from my changing area to find four women queuing politely all waiting to do the wild thing with my alter ego. Being British they were terribly civil about the whole thing, each waiting their turn. Another time at a private house party, I was led by my dangly bits from the room by the birthday girl. On the encouragement of her husband I was led upstairs so that I might use the said dangly bits on the birthday girl! Yet another time I ended dispensing advice to three blow job virgins in their living room. The male stripper was a good person to practice on.

The life of the male stripper is poorly remunerated but it is never dull.