The bad toys came out to play, as the all tap dancing, all Singing Sadie, with her renowned potty mouth, came out to shriek at the boys in the playground, ( and anyone else that got in the way ), and we were sure of a nasty surprise. Her bell tingles sweetly and her words let rip. She made short work of seconding help from the audience to swoon a song and with equal dispatch returned him to his seat after he danced a pas de deux with her. She is a boop-oop-pi-doo kind of girlie who could knee any boy in the necessaries at a moments notice, all the while maintaining a blossoming smile. Her lyrical ragtime karaoke should be a signature Australian export; her hybrid talent should be in cabinet. Copping an earful of this was so hilarious I bought the CD. A ratbaggette of choice, she takes the piss with such élan it was sweet and scary at the same time. Singing Sadie is the sensation of the bar dear readers !And like those bygone days of the gyspy pacific, which are rapidly reapproaching according to burlesque barometer, the crowd pressed themselves to the stage to ogle.

Sadie was tapping her way through her numbers charming onlookers with the barbs of her songs. Putting the fun back into dysfunctional.