/cdn.vox-cdn.com/uploads/chorus_asset/file/25687516/8053c81985c74fafaf98560c67878d800ef51f9e_scaled.jpg "Spider-Man 2 is latest PlayStation exclusive coming to PC")
The views expressed in this Opinion article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect the views of Narcity Media.
Have you ever wondered what goes on inside Café Cleopatra (Café Cléopâtre), the legendary “gentleman’s club” with the lit-up naked lady sign near the corner of boulevard Saint-Laurent and rue Sainte-Catherine Est? It’s the last vestige of the city’s former red-light district, but what’s it like in there now — fun? Weird? Obscene?
If you’re picturing gorgeous women stripping because, well, it’s a strip club, you’d be right — but only partially. That’s the ground floor. Not everyone knows that the second floor is home to one of Montreal’s oldest cabaret stages, where you can attend a wide array of events ranging from strip karaoke to fully clothed stand-up comedy to “Butt Stuff, an evening inspired by Chuck Tingle.”
This article contains graphic content that might not be suitable for some readers. Certain images are Not Safe For Work.
Montreal’s Café Cleopatra at night. Ilana Belfer | MTL Blog
I was there for the butt stuff. The event, that is — a poster for which promised me a night of go-go dancing, burlesque and boylesque. A whole night dedicated to the derrière! As a fan of Sir Mix-A-Lot, how could I resist?
The poster also advertised staged readings from the works of acclaimed author Chuck Tingle. Yes, author — not the low-brow affair you had in mind, right? Of course, Tingle is an acclaimed author of niche gay erotic fiction. Naturally. But he’s a USA Today bestseller and Hugo Award finalist nonetheless.
Prior to attending the show, I’d never heard of Tingle’s beloved novels and novellas, which blend sexy with sci-fi and satire. These include Helicopter Man Pounds Dinosaur Billionaire Ass, Slammed In The Butthole By My Concept Of Linear Time and Trans Wizard Harriet Porber And The Bad Boy Parasaurolophus.
I also wasn’t aware that Tingle is basically the Banksy of queer erotica. No one knows his true name or identity, and he gives interviews while wearing a pink sack over his head with the phrase “Love is Real” written on it in black marker. Yet he has a solid fan base (why they don’t call themselves the fannies is beyond me — a real missed opportunity in North America… not so much in England), and he keeps dropping hit after hit.
After just a few hours at Café Cleopatra, I would learn all of the above and more about Tingle, even becoming a fanny myself (see? It has a nice ring to it), and I would leave with a newfound appreciation for the incredible local talent we have in this city, as well as their butts. But I’m getting ahead of myself.
As I marched up the stairs of the venue after taking out cash from the ground-floor ATM (the club, including the upstairs bar, is cash only, so I definitely recommend doing this), I noticed a bowl of pins beside the person working the door. One read “Butt Stuff” and the other had the event logo on it: an illustration of a bare ass with wings in flight. I bought a “Butt Stuff” pin for $2 and attached it to my shirt before grabbing a drink and taking my seat.
While I have been to Café Cleopatra before, I wasn’t entirely sure what to expect from this particular show. With my “Butt Stuff” pin on and a double gin-soda in hand, I started to relax into my chair, unclenching my own butt cheeks, ready for whatever the night would bring.
The show opened with cohosts/coproducers Jimmy Phule and Miss Pretty Pretentious — both well known in the local theatre and burlesque scenes — presenting the surprise “seminal text” that would be read: Pounded In The Butt By My Own Butt, a 4,000-word short story. With the help of images displayed on a large screen behind them, they introduced the man behind the text, providing background information on Tingle and his works.
“Who is this mysterious scribe of love?” Phule asked.
“Tingle presents himself as a bisexual taekwondo grandmaster who was born in Home of Truth, Utah, a ghost town established in 1933 […] and abandoned in 1977,” Pretty Pretentious replied. “He acquired a Ph.D. in holistic massage at DeVry University, a university which does not offer such a degree.”
While no one solved the mystery of Tingle’s identity that night, Phule did fill the audience in on a conspiracy theory claiming that Tingle is in fact actor Chris Pine, stemming from the “notable revelation that Pine once took an erotic writing class at UCLA, where he was reported to have been both talented and respectful.”
I’m not big into conspiracy theories, but my god, I hope that one’s true.
Before kicking off their staged readings, the hosts invited drag artist Yikes Macaroni onto the stage to warm up the crowd.
Dressed like Ariel from The Little Mermaid, Yikes stunned with a burlesque performance set to a mash-up of “Under the Sea” and “Ms. New Booty” by the Ying Yang Twins, culminating in a reveal of Ariel’s bare butt.
Then, it was time for the readings to begin.
Phule and Pretty Pretentious told Tingle’s story in three parts, broken up by performances between each act, with Pretty Pretentious joking that she was becoming progressively more nude as the acts went on.
I won’t give away too many plot details because you can simply read the story for yourself, but I will say this: A live reading could have been very boring. However, thanks to quality voice acting, lighting, sound effects, humorous fourth-wall-breaking banter between the actors and whipped cream sprayed all over their faces (I’ll let you discern the symbolism for yourself), the audience was highly invested throughout.
We erupted into laughter when the ass — voiced by Phule — first came to life, broke out into applause when the main character finally got pounded in the butt by his own butt and let out a communal “aww” when the lead fell asleep with his “handsome science experiment nestled in his arms.”
“I worked my ass off,” Pretty Pretentious told me after the show. She goes by Natasha Perry-Fagant off stage, by the way, a moniker she referred to as her “muggle name.”
“Jimmy has been wanting to do this show for a while. Like, I think for six years. I was reticent at first since I’ve never performed erotica. But after reading the text, I thought that it was something that appealed to the absurdist comedy that I really dig. My drive for this show was to be able to polish [and] elevate something that would not usually be read in the theatre.”
“We’re already very much in the burlesque scene, so combining the reading with burlesque seemed natural,” added Phule.
He wasn’t wrong. The performances flowed seamlessly — like beautiful, butt-themed bookmarks woven between chapters.
After part one, performer Petro wowed us with boylesque as he stripped down from a blue leotard to a gold corset and underpants, twirling with a confetti cannon that eventually exploded and rained down on him, ultimately leading to a peek at his bare butt.
Post-intermission but before part two, Classy Clare debuted the event mascot, prancing on stage in a butt costume and then lifting her coat to reveal yet another bare butt — this one with eyeballs on it.
Later, Classy Clare closed the show with a performance of “Murder on the Dance Floor,” which began with a doll getting dressed and ended with a bushy appendage protruding from her open leopard-print jacket.
I also can’t forget to mention that Yikes Macaroni returned to the stage before the third reading with a brand new look for a go-go performance. This entailed a lot of impressive booty shaking and even a backwards tumble, as audience members held up bills to tip with and Yikes directed them to the part of their body where the bill should be placed.
Note to self: If you ever want to carry a bunch of cash on you, wear an outfit that consists almost entirely of little leather straps.
As the show came to an end, the hosts said they hoped to turn the event into a series featuring different Tingle tales — for example, Phule’s personal favourite: Bigfoot Pirates Haunt My Balls.
All in all, it was a night full of hoots, hollers and Chuck-les (see what I did there?) that I imagine would make Tingle himself very proud. For all we know, he could have even been there.
Anyway, now you know what goes on inside Café Cleopatra. Nothing weird or obscene at all.
This article has been updated since it was originally published on April 5, 2024.
