Queer as Folk U.S.
The King Of Babylon

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The King Of Babylon

Babylon! HDGBs in sailor slut regalia dance on a stage against a background proclaiming, "King of Babylon," while glitter falls on the crowds below. How's that for a run-on sentence? Our merry band of brothers makes its way down the stairs. Ted suggests that they go to the bar for a drink, but everyone else wants to head to the dance floor, leaving Ted and Blake at the bottom of the stairs. Blake sadly grins, "I guess I won't be winning any popularity contests." Ted says it's not Blake's problem -- it's the Boys' problem. Hypocrisy is remarkably even-handed. Ted tries to lead Blake to the bar, but Blake's stopped by a taller, floppy-haired guy who says that he hasn't seen Blake around in a while. He's wearing a leather jacket, so we know he's a drug dealer. Blake tries to brush him off, but the dealer -- whose name is Dino -- just won't let him go. He asks whether Blake needs a "favor," but Blake says no, and lets Ted lead him away. Ted pseudo-casually asks who that was, and Blake first says that it was "nobody," but on Ted's look, confesses that Dino was indeed his dealer. Ted's face falls. Blake amends that: "Ex-dealer." Ted panics that they shouldn't have come to Babylon in the first place. Blake says that it's fine, that he's fine, and that Ted's just going to have to trust him, okay? Ted sighs that he does trust Blake, and then suggests that they dance.

In the middle of the melee, an announcement comes over the loudspeaker, heralding the arrival of "Sheba, Queen of Babylon." A fierce drag queen, dressed in the finest of Cleopatra costumes (what do you want from me? She's supposed to be Sheba, but the costume's clearly Cleopatra) enters, borne on a litter carried by four loinclothed HDGBs. Some girls get all the luck. She stumbles out of the chariot, almost falling, and snarks about keeping "the royal tits intact." Then she shoos her bearers off: "Go away now -- go play with yourselves." The crowd roars with laughter, because Drag Queens are cool. I don't know why. They just are. Sheba welcomes everyone to the King of Babylon contest, "where the competition is stiff, and so are the contestants!" Everyone cheers. Sheba then says that people can still sign up to "drop trou and win a thou." Clever. Now let's wrap this up. Thank you. Sheba introduces the first contestant:"Four-Alarm Fred -- he'll light your fire and put it out." She makes way for a professional dancer dressed as a fireman -- a very cute, prematurely balding fireman. The camera cuts back and forth between his slo-mo striptease and the frenzied crowd. On the other side of the dance floor, Brian sneers, "Shaved chest, pec implants, steroids, Hair Club for Men." Justin replies that it's sad, isn't it: "All these older guys, still partying way past their prime. They don't know when to stop." Brian glares at Justin like he's not sure whether Justin's teasing him. Justin continues, giving Brian the old elevator look: "So, how about the real thing?" Brian frowns and snorts, "Check back with me in an hour." Snicker. Justin's all, what do you mean check back with you in an hour?! "So, I'm a backup plan? Who you do when all else fails?" Justin pouts. No! Really?! Keep up, bunny. Brian once again reminds Justin that they're not a couple. Justin demands to know what they are, then. The universe screams back, "NOT A COUPLE, THAT'S FOR SURE." Brian shrugs, "I don't know about you, but I'm single," and saunters off, leaving Justin simmering. Cut back to Four-Alarm Fred, turned around and pulling off his jockstrap. Finally, he finishes his routine by straddling a silver fire hose. The slobbering hordes just can't get enough. Sigh.

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Queer as Folk U.S.




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