Janine Gibson

This article is part of FT Globetrotter’s guide to London “The thing is”, our fabulous six-foot drag-queen host Rainbow confides, voluminous red wig scraping along the carriage ceiling, “we’re doing cabaret on a train. You’ve got to lean in or it’s going to be a long night.” Unclear whether the instruction was meant physically — a burlesque dancer will shortly do the splits in the aisle — or mentally, I immediately do both. I am the cabaret performer’s best friend, laughing uproariously, perfo…

Neil Tennant, half of the most successful British duo in the history of pop music, arrives alone to lunch with the FT. “We call this the Coldest Table In London,” he announces, gesturing at the bare windows of J Sheekey in Covent Garden and the wind tunnel that is St Martin’s Court, in front of which I have nobly placed myself. “On a cold day, you can freeze to death here.” “I’ve kept my layers,” I say reassuringly. “You can put your scarf on if you need it,” Tennant predicts. Reader, I will. A…

In the golden age of midday hedonism, some sisters were doing it for themselves