When Don’t Panic asked me to go and do a feature at the swanky Claridge's hotel for the after party of the Tim Noble and Sue Webster exhibition I accepted unreservedly. Thoughts of champagne sipping and strictly come dancing filled my head as I considered what the night may hold in store. I felt like Cinderella invited to the ball, the ball of the Gob$au$age.

Those of you that have already heard of Gob$au$age will probably be thinking the same thing I was when I finally laid eyes on them: ‘Gob$au$age? At Claridge's?’ Surely some mistake. It certainly seemed like a very strange choice of venue considering the general subject matters and stage (non) outfits of the band.

It was the after party for the Tim Noble and Sue Webster exhibition. Tim and Sue had previously revealed their Sacrificial Heart, a pierced blood red heart, dripping blood and made out of hundreds of light bulbs, at the Gagosian Gallery and wanted to finish off the night in style.


Sacrificial Heart by Tim Noble and Sue Webster

After helping the Gob$au$age girls and guy to get made up, get into their stage gear and sound check, (I wrote the word ‘CUNT’ across Miss Halski’s’s back for good measure), the $au$age hit the stage. Immediately heads turned, monocles popped out of eyeballs, champagne glasses were dropped in shock and awe at what was unfurling on the stage. Suddenly the room had gone from the epitome of class and sophistication to a bizarre spectacle involving the jiggling of naked lady bits and screeching gimp-mask clad ‘singers’ screeching out mostly indecipherable lyrics.


Spread 'em wide

At this point the concierge emerged to re-fill our champagne glasses, glanced towards the stage, cringed and turned to his red-faced supervisor who comically scrambling onto the stage in an attempt to cover all the T&A. But the $au$age were having none of it. As far as they were concerned it was black tie, and as long as you had a black tie on somewhere the fact that you were otherwise totally naked and covered in gold and silver glitter was a mere side-note.


Just write whatever comes to mind first

As Gob$au$age launched into another number the concierges were forced to admit defeat and resolved to just get everyone shit-faced on the free champagne instead. Perhaps they were hoping nobody would remember anything the next morning. I looked over to catch Mario Testino clocking the big pink ‘CUNT’ I had previously adorned the lead singer with. Hopefully he wasn’t too offended.


All these people work in banks, receive four-digit Christmas bonuses and go horse riding every weekend

Gob$au$age definitely put on a challenging show. When you first see them it can be hard to take them and the bondage gear, the swear words and the glitter seriously. But their stage presence more than makes up for any shortcomings in the style department. The definition of a sleazy, grunge glam-rock outfit fucking the establishment, Gob$au$age equate their sound to being that of a ‘sleazy, sexed up porcupine.’ It was evident from their music, their dress sense and the way they spoke and carried themselves that they genuinely possess a true punk don’t-give-a-fuck attitude.


The new face of Claridge's

The event was rebellious, confrontational, deliberately offensive and… beautiful. It helps that the band also run the Charles of London fashion label from their store on the Kingsland road. It was most definitely a memorable night with more than anybody’s fair share of the sparkly stuff getting passed about. And drunk. By me. Beautiful.

Tim Noble & Sue Webster's Sacrificial Heart can be seen at the Gagosian Gallery on Bond Street.

You can check out Gob$au$age at www.myspace.com/gobsausage