David: I’ve never understood what folks hope to achieve with these Cecil B. DeMille curtain ensembles — in their bathrooms no less. But lord knows I’m not going to take it up with this particular homeowner.

John: Oh, the drama! BOOM, BOOM, BOOM, as Liz Taylor told Richard Burton in — what else? — Boom! She was listening to the surf pounding into the shore with repeated — you guessed it — booms, looking off the balcony in that hungry Liz way with one hand clutching her faltering heart. (She had been given a three-months-to-live prognosis.) And what did this happy-go-lucky Tennessee Williams heroine say? What wise, loving and reassuring words?: “BOOM. BOOM. BOOM — the shock of every second of still being alive!” Yes, Liz, I get it now. All that seasick life-weariness is conveyed to me by the suffocating heaviness of THOSE GODDAM DRAPES! Sir! You have a choice. Life need not be a cabaret. One’s home is not the set of Big Brother. There are moments, precious, few but private moments when, in the words of another Sixties idol, “even the President of the United States must have to stand naked.”

Heather: I hear that the guards at the Museum of Antebellum History have been trying to be much more careful about checking all the rooms before they lock up for the night. But frankly, my dear, Rhett here doesn’t give a damn.

Richard: Every day, Carlos rehearsed his Pirates of the Caribbean routine, and every day, he got a little bit better, until finally he worked up the courage to pursue his dream of becoming a professional stripper. On the train heading downtown, he kept repeating to himself, “I think I can, I think I can, I think I can.” When he arrived at the Chippendale’s Review Board, he swaggered through the front door, full of confidence — which, unfortunately, made their cruel, cruel laughter and rejection all the more painful. Luckily, Carlos lived by the motto, “If at first you don’t succeed, jump off the nearest bridge.” At that, boys and girls, is the story of Carlos and the Very Bad, No Good, Thoroughly Mixed-Up Career Path.

John: Well, it is the happiest time of the year. The entire house is in drag and there are twinkle lights outlining mirrors and doorways. We do not see this. We do not have to. The design flair of whoever put the family computer in the living room implies that this is a house where the parents are so busy putting up decorations, what with Halloween, 4th of July and Easter, they have no time to notice that Junior is having his way with himself in front of a webcam. And an internet fanbase of millions.

David: This is a macabre interior, almost Satanic. The juxtaposition of peeking penis and voodoo doll-like mantel Santa is spooky. The black candles on a makeshift shrine seem to be celebrating the torture and hanging of Garfield the Cat.

Richard: Criminy, mum! You got me everything I wanted for Christmas: a Malibu Barbie in Santa drag and my very own penis! Now I can forget that we live in this stuffy little Manchester hovel and start enjoying life for a change!