The Last Tuesday Society - The New Year's Eve Eve Masked Ball

This December we shall punctuate the promise of the new year - only slightly before its time – with divinely impish devilment and our usual dosing of masked mischief. Peruse the private boxes and their sinful secrets, climb high into a seedy backroom bar that reminds you of that week you can't remember in Koh Phanganmandu, marvel at the artful artisans mingling with us mere mortals and dance the year away.

So, as winter rolls towards its climax and the year heaves its last shuddering sighs we entreat you to throw away all you once were, don a mask, and dance toward fresh beginnings, selves remade as heels clack, cocks crow and clocks chime, beckoning into a frost flecked dawn.

The Last Tuesday Society parties donate 10% of their ticket sales to CRISIS. Our last party raised over £1,000.00

LINE-UP

Main Stage

Desmond O’Connor – Your host, the undisputed king of cabaret, a fallen angel with a ukelele, Lucifer himself descended from the lighting rig.

The Urban Voodoo Machine - gin-soaked and bourbon-fuelled, this terrifying beast of a band speaks the ancient tongue of Rock n Roll in loud, primal roars. 

Chivaree Circus - At the risk of sounding less than sophisticated, your gob will be smacked, your mind boggled and you’ll be searching the floor for your jaw as Chivaree Circus offer up a spectacular show devised especially for The Last Tuesday Society.

Rumpsteppers - Esteemed maestros of the decks, these gentlemen grab tunes from all eras by the throat and force feed them bass till the beats are unstoppable, and then garnish with a maelstrom of vocal gymnastics. Never was a dance floor so dastardly delectable.

DJ Jamie Moon – The sharpest dressed DJ in London, dropping the sharpest tunes.

The Gods 

Carrotwaska Tea Party

Climb high to the gods to experience a mixture of High Society Tea appreciation with an inappropriate use of Tesco’s veg aisle by the No Shamen and his acolytes. Spirit vegetable readings will be available.

Private Boxes

Feral and Frolic - Everybody knows that theatregoers of old paid top dollar for the boxes due to the privacy such an enclave affords, and therefore the misdemeanors to be enjoyed therein. In a return to tradition the enchantresses of Feral and Frolic bring you the most invigorating of installations, the most tantalising temptations for your sinful satisfaction.

The Olfactory Orchestra - Let our Siren of Scent evoke your sweetest memories in her aromatic apogee. Lift your nose to the air and come reminisce in redolence.

The Tongue Twister - An Epicurean adventure awaits you. Twirl your tongue around an enticing slice with our sybarite Satyr, nibble a Bacchanalian bite or three to whet your New Year’s appetite.

The Skintillating Chamber - Rest your bones on our pyre of pleasure, as our sensual, scintillating Sylph entangles you in tangible delights.

The Auditorium - The Queen of Cacophony, our resident Nymph, will tumble you through a smorsgabord of sound and symphony, plucking each of your strings, true and clear.

The Long Window - Wide eyed and bushy tailed, our Vixen, a vivid and voracious creature, will lead your roaming eyes on a ravishing visual voyage

Koh Phanganmandu

Remember that week you can't remember? The one where you came to on a South East Asian beach with an erotic My Little Pony Tattoo, a copy of Herman Hesse’s autobiography and wearing nothing but a fez? This is where you spent that week. Your hosts are Prinz Friedrich, a fin-de-siecle a cross-dressing Prussian Officer with a substance abuse problem, and a very fierce man who often dresses as a unicorn and hides his carrots in places you wouldn’t dare mention to your mother.

No photos allowed.

Balcony Bar

Beware where you take your ease. You may find yourself seated next to a Tarot reader with knowledge of the occult, or a deft and amusingly light-fingered magician, be certain to check your pocket watch when he moves on. Strange creatures inhabit this luxurious lounging area.

Please take your ease, but be sure to explore. Seek out the heady delight of the cheeseboard and, of course, the costume competition, so dress up, walk tall and be sure to be seen in all your glory, we are watching

Dress Code: Don your finest attire, adorn yourself in your most magnificent garb and garm for The Last Tuesday Society. Upon your person allow to be evoked le fin de siecle, the sublimity of another world, another time where romance ran rampant alongside the decadent and depraved. Let opulence abound, indulge your carnal and coiffed delights. 

Think masks and mystery; top hats and under garments; Tales, coats and tails’ ruffles and bustles; shine and smut, ecclesiastical slut; byzantine glories, ottoman stories; Orion, the bitch, and the wardrobe; ballgowns and cannonballs; femme fatales; duels and jewels; cast out courtesans; banished banshees; nephilim exalted and exiled.