Welcome back to Londonist: Croydon Edit! Piloted by Londonist editor and committed Croydonian Will Noble, it's about all things in the borough of Croydon — including features on Croydon's crazily rich history, interviews with the people who make Croydon what it is, the latest on Croydon openings, exhibitions, gigs and events, and lots more.
NB: This post contains a few raunchy pictures, so be careful where you open it up.
"Near, far, whereeeeever you are..."
It's Thursday evening in a beam-ceilinged pub in East Croydon and a spangly RMS Titanic is being pursued across the tables by an equally glamorous-looking iceberg. As Celine Dion witters through the speakers, the doomed ocean liner—now shrieking—legs it out of the front door and as the room pivots to see out the window, is sunk in the pub car park.
How strong, you may ask, is the beer I'm drinking? But what we've all just witnessed is a classic skit from Their Majesties—a regular LGBTQ+ club night at the Oval Tavern, and another reason to love Croydon.
Piloting the riotous vaudeville of it all are Shepherd's Bush (Titanic) and Asifa Lahore (Iceberg). On the final Thursday of each month, the duo curate a cavalcade of queer acts—maybe Boris the 'Pride Minister' dancing in their underpants, or a plesiosaurus doing X-rated things with their partner's dismembered tail. "We once had a gynaecologist who danced to a Steps medley," says Shepherd's Bush. There are also sometimes biscuits.
Shepherd’s Bush and Asifa knit together this torrent of charming chaos with their own interludes and routines, furnished with lashings of lip-synching and lovingly-crafted props. Think Shooting Stars colliding with the Kit-Kat club relocated to a country pub, and maybe you're a tenth of the way there.
However you describe it, Their Majesties is popular. Massively popular. I've failed to nab a table twice—and that was when trying to book a week or two in advance. On the two occasions I have made it in, every seat and table is gobbled up, and punters are thick at the bar.
Something special is going on here.
Queens in a pod
Like any great double act, the chemistry between Shepherd's Bush and Asifa is baked in. They met at school 27 years ago in Brixton, children of Thatcher's tyrannical Section 28—which remained unrepealed until 2003. "We'd be in the playground singing Jennifer Lopez," says Shepherd's Bush. Going their separate ways for college and uni, the two reunited after Asifa moved to South Croydon in 2015, and Claudia moved in a while after.
Asifa has been performing as Britain's first out Muslim drag queen for 14 years; the first time I was set to interview her, she had to cancel last minute because she received a call-up from Vogue India for a photoshoot at Borough Market. "I ended up making love to a pole," Asifa tells me, "That's fashion for you I guess." Shepherd's Bush, meanwhile, is deeply involved in local initiatives like Queer Croydon.
They make for a mischievous yet savvy pair—treading a tightrope between salaciously surrealist comedy and a sense of empowering togetherness. The faces around you at any given Their Majesties night conveys how much this all means to so many people.
So it's hard to believe that before Asifa and Shepherd's Bush rode into town, there were few places for LGBTQ+ folk to hang out in Croydon. But that was about the size of it: "I always noticed that in Croydon there was no designated space for the queer community, or one that was visible or felt safe," says Asifa.
"There was never really a space for you to exist in," says Shepherd's Bush. "It really saddened me."
This, however, wasn't always the case.
Croydon's LGBTQ+ heritage
"In the 80s and 90s there were lots of gay bars dotted about," Asifa tells me. Croydon back then had the Bird-in Hand on Sydenham Road, PJs in Thornton Heath and Reflex in the old Grants building. "Only 20, 30 years ago, Divine was performing in Croydon!" says Shepherd's Bush. While the Tories—and let's be honest, a fair chunk of the population—railed against the queer community, Croydon launched its own Pride festival and had a ball. Quite literally.
But it wasn't all fun and games. The AIDS crisis saw outer London hospitals turned into what were essentially terminals for dying men. One of these hospitals was the Mayday in West Croydon, which earned the gloomy nickname 'Maydie'.
Enter LGBTQ+ legend, Ray Harvey-Amer. Ray, who lived in Shirley, became famous in the area, not only for his handbag ("dab of lippy for 'fortitude against the oppressors', a whistle and bell to let the enemy know you were coming, gloves for glamour and a feather boa for joy...") but helping establish the charitable support system, Gay Health Link. "Ray galvanised the community and ultimately brought people to come and spend time with these men who were dying—their last hours," says Shepherd's Bush.
Stories like Ray's would later inspire Shepherd's Bush and Asifa to realise they could make something like Their Majesties resonate. The seed was sown. But it took Covid to secure its fate.
Their Majesties are crowned
"When the pandemic hit, this idea germinated in our flat," says Asifa, "As self-employed people we thought what can we do, not only to fund ourselves, but bring queerness to the local area."
Holed away in South Croydon, the friends began to throw together ideas. Years of sharing the same sense of humour and feeding off the same pop culture now started paying off, as routines rolled off the tongue, and an act was hammered into shape.
What's their method for putting together a skit like the Titanic one? "When it comes to ideas, we're standing at the edge of a cliff goading each other!" Asifa laughs.
"We started doing a few drag race events, and the community just came," says Shepherd's Bush. "And it gradually kept building and building".
But despite the unabashed showboating from its two hosts and array of guest turns—drag queens, kings, singers, comedians, musicians—at its core, Their Majesties is all about those who come to watch.
"We always think about the audience—how will this land with them, and how can we take them along with us?" says Asifa. "For a lot of people there is a sense of isolation in Croydon. When you can't really see other people like yourself, coming to Their Majesties for the first time not only can be quite exciting—it can be quite overwhelming...
"We find people coming up to us and saying 'oh my god, this is amazing!'"
Every December, Their Majesties puts on a 'Drag Nativity'—a queer retelling of the Christmas story through a Croydon lens. The Oval becomes an inn with no room (although to be fair, there's never much room at the Oval when Their Majesties is in the house). Parts are doled out to the audience, who are encouraged to dress up as the Three (Drag) Kings and animals. It's tons of fun, but cathartic too. "Growing up in school for many of us wasn't great," says Shepherd's Bush, "It's giving these queers an opportunity to relive these moments—put a positive stamp on it for the first time."
Within the queer community there's a spectrum of disability needs and neurodivergence, and Their Majesties is there for them. People who come on their own or need extra help are invited to sit at the hosts' table. "They can be close to us, and we can look after them in many ways," says Asifa. "There was someone who was autistic who can't go clubbing because that involves planning, preparing himself emotionally and physically. At Their Majesties, he feels like he's with family. He can handle the noise. He can handle our special brand of chaos. He knows that he's safe."
Long live the queens
London's queer community flourishes in 2024, thanks to its scores of LGBTQ+clubs, bars and abundant institutions in hotspots like Soho, Vauxhall, Clapham and Dalston. Now, you can add Croydon to that list.
"Why do we have to travel into Clapham? Why do we have to travel into central London?" says Shepherd's Bush. The answer, of course, is they don't. Their Majesties has proved such a hit, a 'Saturday Shenanigans' show has been launched to keep up with the demand. "So many Croydonians had friends who didn't live in Croydon, and wanted a weekend show they could easily come to," says Asifa. It takes place every second Saturday, and sees the pair become a foursome as they’re joined by Croydon-born trans man boylesque performer Merlin the Grey, and resident pole dancing artist Rolo Chick. “Think pink and cute costumes against a heavy metal beat. They have it all going!” says Shepherd’s Bush.
Their Majesties intends to remain faithful to its hometown ("It's always going to be a Croydon thing," Asifa assures), but it's certainly not just for Croydonians.
"We've had people from Bristol, Doncaster, Manchester, who've made the trip to come and see little old us," grins Shepherd's Bush, "We've had people from Miami!"
After all, wouldn't you fly over from Miami if you knew you could see a burlesque pig sauntering around the stage with a string of sausages, or the Titanic being so fabulously sunk?
Follow @theirmajestiescroydon @asifalahore and @notthatshepherdsbush on Instagram for details on upcoming shows. And book early.
They’re throwing a special Pride party on 20 July.