Bring on the Trumpets!!

If you want to know what my essence looks like, it's something like a small jelly bear who demands trumpets.

Best advert ever.

Trumpets!

The History of Tranny and TV

The Tranny and TV strip that appears on this blog is, of course, only the latest incarnation of the much-loved comedy duo. Trannies throughout the decades have laughed along at the exploits of the transgendered radio and his gender-confused television friend. Lets look back at the history of Tranny and TV, in a little feature I like to call "The History of Tranny and TV".

The History of Tranny and TV

Tranny's first recorded appearance was in the ground-breaking animated short "Tugboat Tranny", which was the first Flash-animated tranny cartoon skit, way back in 1915. Unfortunately no recordings still exist of this skit, as many Flash animations were wiped in the early 21st Century to be re-used for Vodafone banner ads.


Cel from the first appearance of Tranny, 1928

While Tranny was earning a name for himself in animated shorts, TV was still very much a stage-based actor. His 1920 performance of Piglet, Princess of Denmark, is still seen to this day as the definitive rendition of the greatest tranny play Shakespeare never actually wrote.



Ironically, TV's rising star in the theatre was stalled by the invention of his namesake, television. When asked about the new broadcasting miracle that was ruining his career, TV was characteristically stoical. "I always wondered what my aerial was for," he is reported to have said.

It was on a tour of the US that TV first met Tranny, and a life-long friendship was forged. They started perfoming together in burlesque, and were soon spotted by Hollywood.


Titles from Tranny and TV's first on-screen collaboration

Tranny and TV's early Hollywood films would be unrecognisable to someone more used to their more recent work. Their on-screen characters were almost the reverse to what they are now, with Tranny portraying the bumbling simpleton and TV his brash, overbearing (but only slightly more intelligent) partner. Audiences rolled about in the aisles whenever TV uttered his immortal catch phrase "And that's yet another awkward situation into which you've placed us, Tranny!"

Both Tranny and TV saw active service in WWII, TV entertained the troops (on radio and in person) with his bawdy semi-naked drag act, earning the nickname "The Forces' Sweetmeat". Meanwhile Tranny earned his wings as an RAF pilot, and even had time to make the classic transgender-interest movie "I was a Wireless War Bride".

The Fifties were a difficult time for the pair. For the first time the British Housewife could have appliances (albeit non-transgendered appliances) in her own home, and Tranny and TV no longer held the caché they once enjoyed.


"Four Trannies", Warhol, 1966

They fell off the radar for a decade, re-emerging in the most unlikely of places, as members of Andy Warhol's retinue of bohemian eccentrics and muses, known as "The Factory". Warhol actually used Tranny in some of his best known work, but TV tended to just lounge about eating crisps.


"TV Feeling A Bit Peaky", Peter Hujar, 1968

In the Seventies they went their separate ways again. TV decided briefly to go "full time", and after extensive reconstructive surgery (and panel beating) actually managed to convince everyone he was a genuine woman. This peaked with a part as a Bond Girl in the film "On Her Majesty's Secret Service". However he was ignominiously outed by a British tabloid, and after a period in hiding re-emerged once again as a regular TV in the early eighties.


News of the World Headline, 1970

In 1992 the BBC were looking for a new show to plug the gap in their children's TV schedule between "Cities of Gold" and "Neighbors". Tranny and TV pitched an idea for a show featuring two aging Northern transvestites who move furniture about and act like children, "but not in a creepy way", as TV put it! Thus "TrannyVision" was born, which kept the money flowing in throughout the Nineties.



TrannyVision titles, 1996

In 2005 retirement beckoned, until a third-rate tranny blogger ran out of real things to talk about and decided to fill her blog with made-up nonsense. Tranny and TV were once again in demand!

Thus we come to the end of the story so far for the Bakelite Boy-Babes, who knows what the next century will bring? I'll let Tranny answer that question himself!

"Who bloody cares!?"

I Walk the Line

Right, bear with me because I'm writing this with a vague impression of something in the back of my mind but no idea how to commit it into words. So this is going to be rather rambling.

Being a transvestite is bloody difficult. Correction, being a good transvestite is bloody difficult. By "good" I mean one who makes the effort, who's happy to stand up and be counted as a transvestite, and who (and this is where recently I've been failing abysmally) actually cross-dresses. The Good Transvestite walks the line, the line that divides not bothering enough and bothering far too much.

Let me reel off a few more clichés.

The Good Transvestite lives on the edge. On one side is the massed hordes of proto-trannies who never get the urge to take it any further, and on the other side are the transsexuals who want to take it all the way. But the edge is a fun and exciting place to be. Edges are always where things happen. When two environments come into contact you get turbulence, conflict, excitement... life. There are a lot of interesting people on the edge, and even more approaching it from both sides. Away from the edge you get safety and uniformity, but nothing really ever happens.

The trouble is that there, in the middle, seems to be the hardest place to stay. The Good Transvestite who crawls their way up to the edge, fighting apathy, prejudice and self-doubt to become an "out and proud" tranny, faces a big problem. There are slippery slopes in both directions, back down the way they came or onwards into the murky realms of hormones, SRS, and permanent changes of lifestyle.

The Good Transvestite knows that although they'd fantasised occasionally about, say, having a proper set of boobs, they wouldn't be doing it for the right reasons and the novelty would wear off in a few hours, so they hold back. The craving for the "next big hit" (buying girls clothes, going out dressed, passing in public, whatever) has fuelled them all the way to the crest of the edge, so stopping before they go too far down the other slope can be hard.

Before I suffer the wrath of transsexuals angry that I'm implying they're just bad transvestites who couldn't give up on the "next big hit", let me qualify what I'm saying. I think that most transsexuals have a genuine need to do what they do, and you can tell by the huge sacrifices they've made with families, careers, etc.

And also, trannies that shade further down the transsexual spectrum face problems walking their own "line". The medical, legal and social structures in place in this country and elsewhere have great difficultly seeing any shades between "male" and "female". The transgendered person who wants to live a lifestyle somewhere after "man" but before "woman" faces huge difficulties from a society who wants to push them into one of the two available boxes.

But back to the point I was trying to make, and (rather predictably) it's all about me. I "walked the line" for a while, lived on the edge and sampled all the delights that were available there. But then I had to choose: fight extra hard to stay there or fall to the side. Falling "forward" never was an option, because I'm 100% sure I'm not a transsexual. And staying where I was became impossible because, despite Jane's utter support and understanding, the kind of tranny I was 4 years ago just wasn't compatible with a normal happy relationship.

Also, the need to dress has gone away since I've been with Jane. Maybe because I'm with Jane, but I'm not about to test that theory.

In many ways I've "lost" the old Becky, and gone though a bit of a mourning period because of it. I miss the hedonistic pleasures that came part-and-parcel with the particular way I chose to express my tranny side and "live" through Becky.

Despite Jane trusting me implicitly (and me being committed to deserve that trust), I've not trannied solo in over a year, and only once or twice since I met Jane. Going out dressed with Jane is a lot of fun (and she enjoyed it too), but it's strangely different from the pure thrill of going out solo.

When we first met I said to Jane that my trannying was going to be my garden shed, a place where I could retreat to be away from real life for a bit. But to allow Jane to be comfortable with the shed, she had to see inside, and somehow it never seemed right to shut her out after that. And so, unwittingly, my expression of Becky became diluted.

Part of me wants to reclaim that part of my life, part of me realises how selfish that would be. Perhaps the ultimate defining characteristic of the transvestite is selfishness - we want to do these things we do to satisfy our own needs and desires - but I don't want it to define me. So I'm going to have to find a new way to be a Good Transvestite. Giving up on personal short-term pleasures for the greater lasting pleasure of a loving relationship, perhaps that's the hardest line to walk of all.

A Tranny's Guide to Surviving the Credit Crunch

The threat of recession is on the horizon. The current economic climate means everyone is having to tighten their belts, and us trannies have more belts to tighten than most (along with a couple of girdles, and a sash that ties in huge bow that sits delightfully in the small of our backs and... er ... I digress).

So anyway I thought I'd put together a few tips for surviving the credit crunch as a tranny.

Make the Most of the Panto Off Season

During the summer months there is very little call for pantomime, so why not make use of all those costumes gathering dust at your local theatre? Many of them are designed for the fuller figure, and come in a variety of striking and original styles.

Look for:

Ugly Sister costumes. Often actually quite swanky, it's the makeup that tends to let down your average Ugly Sister.

Cinderella's Ballgown. You never know, it might fit. Although the slippers probably won't.

Pantomime Dame outfits If anyone asks, tell them you're on a Grayson Perry kick.

Avoid:

Anything with a goose's head. Unless you're into a bit of furry (feathery?) action on the side.

Principal Boy outfits. Unless you look so naturally like a girl that it shines through even when you stick on a pair of hotpants, a pencil moustache and a jaunty hat. In which case I hate you.


Investigate Alternative Realities and Planes of Existence

Online realities such as Second Life have always been havens for the tranny without the budget for actual clothes / makeup / plastic surgery, but in hard times it can be hard to find the Real Life lolly you need to pay for the Second Life loot. So why not investigate some other online environments?

Try:

World of Warcraft. But don't do the obvious thing and play an anatomically impossible female maiden skipping around in extremely skimpy armour. The proper way to cross-dress in WoW (or any other online RPG) is to play a butch male character and then disguise yourself in as feminine a manner as possible. I myself have a male Night Elf rogue who has a fantastic range of frocks he picked up at festival events around Azeroth. And he can easily pass for a laydee, providing the dungeon is dark enough.

Pirates of Caribbean Online. Okay, so I've not actually investigated this myself, but surely in addition to all the swarthy eye-patched pirates there must be room for a few corsetted and be-hoop-skirted Governor's daughters for trannies to play? And maybe also ladies of negotiable affection inhabiting the taverns and docks? If not, wake up Disney! This is an opportunity missed!

Avoid:

EVE Online. The bit at the beginning where you create your avatar all looks very promising, and you can spend an hour or so getting the lipstick, funky hair and eyeshadow on my space chick just right. But then it's all just spaceships! And it's very hard to make a Caldari Battle Cruiser look femme. Believe me, I tried.


Make Do And Mend

Some tips for when things get really bad:

The discarded towels left behind The Boudoir and other dressing services can be wrung out for usable amounts of foundation.

Rather than forking out for an expensive wig, just let your own hair grow out. (Be warned: while most trannies who do this tend to make out they're frightfully lucky to have "such nice long hair", all their friends secretly know this is a sign of abject poverty and an inability to buy a decent wig. That's not envy in their eyes, it's pity.)

Take a tip from those wartime ladies who couldn't afford seamed stockings. If you can't afford to buy a decent pair of falsies, just drink a lot of beer until you develop an impressive set of man boobs, then take a brown eyeliner pencil and draw a large oval shape around each one. Hey presto! Instant faux fake boobs!

- - -

Hopefully my little guide will help you through the worst of the credit crunch.

And remember that it's incredible what you can get in charity shops. Why, just the other day I got some very funny looks and a black eye.

RRRRRRRAAAAAGHHHH!!

That's a kind of textual representation of the amount of effort it's taken to free myself from a soul-sucking quagmire of indolence and finally put something in this blog.

No apologies, I just seem to have lost the part of my brain that deluded me into thinking that the stuff that happens in my life was worthy of being blogged about. Combine that with a distinct lack of Interesting Things happening to me, and the blog output is bound to suffer. I'm not even bothering to read blogs at the moment, let alone write them.

But, I'm still here. Keeping my head down and trying not to cause too much trouble. Life seems to be "on hold" a bit at the moment. There's so much that Jane and I want to do, but it's all dependent on selling our two smallish homes and buying something of a decent size. The news that house prices are tumbling would be great if we could actually get any buyers at all for our places. But just getting people to look at them is proving almost impossible. After years of feasting on the economic equivalent of calorific Kellogg's Golden Nuggets (so tasty, but you know it's bad for you), we're now forced to chew on it's evil high-fibre low-taste alternative: Credit Krunch.

It wouldn't be so bad if the perceived opinion didn't seem to be that house-buyers were reaping what they sowed, suffering from an economic downturn they created by artificially inflating the house market over the the last decade. It's not my fault. I've done nothing to inflate the house market, personally, I've just been quietly investing in my little pile of bricks-and-mortar, content to sit on the bottom rung of the property ladder, and now I finally want to step up a rung, the rules of the game have changed. All of a sudden the ladders are all snakes and the whole board is starting to look very slippery indeed.