19 January 2018:
My First Play Trip to London:
Encounter with a British Eccentric
*** Updated 20 July 2025 ***

In 1983 I made a trip to London to play. I had been there before with straight friends and had been frustrated by not being able to explore the renowned CP scene there. This time I travelled on my own and was determined to have some fun. I arranged to stay at a B&B off Cromwell Road in Earl's Court. I selected that location because it was near the famous Coleherne Arms Pub, a landmark leather bar during the 1970s and 80s (see this link).

The redeye from Washington to Gatwick departed late due to heavy weather over the UK and the Continent. We skipped London due to storms and went on to Frankfurt, the flight's second destination. However, we were unable to land there after two abortive attempts and were were diverted to Cologne-Bonn where we sat on the tarmac until it was clear enough to land safely at Frankfurt and later at Gatwick. I had missed a whole day in London, as did an American "princess" seated behind me who kvetched at length about losing a day's shopping at Harrod's.

In preparation for the trip I had somehow obtained a copy of a CP newsletter called Corporal Contacts and had responded to a couple of advertisements in the personals section. I had not received any replies as of the time I left Washington.

The first evening I was there, after I checked into my B&B and had a meal in a restaurant on Earls Court Road, I fought my fatigue and walked down to the Colherene. I didn't find it a particularly friendly bar and didn't connect with anyone, so I didn't stay long.

The next day, which would have been my second day but was my first due to the flight delay, I had something planned. Just by chance, a gay BDSM friend from the DC area was in England visiting friends in Cambridge. My schedule called for having lunch with him there. So, still badly jetlagged, I got up early and took the train from Liverpool Street Station to Cambridge to have lunch with him. It was very pleasant. After the meal we visited the chapel at King's College and walked along the river. I bought a shirt at a street market.

I fell asleep on the train on the way back to London. It happened that I had gotten a ticket for a London Symphony Orchestra concert that evening so I went directly to Barbican Hall, not having time to return to Earl's Court and change. The first part of the program was conventional with James Galway performing a flute concerto; nice but hardly stimulating. I very nearly left at the interval. I'm glad I decided to stay. The second half featured Háry János, a delightful piece by Zoltán Kodály that begins with an orchestral sneeze. I was enchanted. With themes from that piece still resounding in my ears, I left the hall energized and happy to have discovered a composer I had not previously been aware of.

The trip back to Earl's Court was long; staying in that part of town means spending a lot of time in the Tube. But when I got back the attendant at reception gave me a phone message: Rupert rang from Hampstead and asked that I call him back. Great. I now had a response to one of my replies to Corporal Contacts ads. It was too late to call that evening but I rang him the next morning.

Rupert, it turned out, lived on Parliament Hill (see this link) near the top of Hampstead Heath. Getting there involved taking the Tube then a bus then walking up the hill. His flat was at the top of the house and had furniture upholstered in chintz. Rather old fashioned. The CP session was okay. I seem to remember him using straps on me then. Afterward we sat and talked. I learned that "Rupert Pendragon" was his nom de guerre and a name more suggestive of his family origin in Wales than his actual name, Anthony Earl-Williams. He was the publisher of Corporal Contacts and wrote most of the articles. He was Catholic in a land where most people were nominally Church of England (CoE). Notably,he was a member of the Conservative Party and had run for Parliament from Hampstead, which I later learned was a safe Labour seat and had been won by the actress Glenda Jackson. He had recently organized a short play to raise funds for the local Tory Party; in the play, he appeared in drag as "Lady Pendragon."

Rupert had some unusual, reactionary social and political views, though I don't remember many specifics. Knowing him, I came to believe that there are many eccentrics in London who seem to live in bygone eras and have a tenuous grasp of the modern world.

I do remember his telling about having seen an Arabic man in Harrod's one day pissing on the floor. Outraged, Rupert protested to the management, who put him off with the statement, "Sir, you may spend £50 here today; this gentleman will spend £50,000." Rubert was also lamenting the death of an attractive young English serviceman who died in an attack by an IRA bomber. Neither of these views in itself marked him as a reactionary extremist or conspiracy theorist but they contributed to a view of him as feeling like a member of a majority besieged by insurgent minorities. More to the point, I do remember him complaining about the "Blacks rioting in Brixton". I also remember taking him to a nice West End restaurant for dinner and his saying to me "We shouldn't be here. This establishment is meant for people of a higher class." I was amazed and countered his view with the typical egalitarian Yank's line that it's really just a matter of money and not a problem. Privately I wondered about his mental balance and psychosocial adjustment.

Rupert was turned on by uniforms and introduced me to a military surplus store called Laurence Corner in Camden, NW1. I have since learned that the Beatles obtained the uniforms they used in Sgt Pepper's Lonely Heart's Club Band there. The shop closed in 2007. At any rate, Rupert purchased a few things there and I got a British army jacket and fatigues. At that time the store was selling merchandise obtained from East Germany in the wake of the fall of the Berlin Wall and the reunification of Germany. I got an East German belt from there that I subsequently used quite a bit in whipping ass. I dubbed it my Stasi belt after the name of the feared East German secret police.

I remember Rupert gave me a copy of a book called The English Vice, which was about CP. I don't know what happened to the book; I no longer have it.

The last day I got together with Rupert I allowed him to cane me, something I had not experienced before. It was in his bedroom. I was in my green army fatigues from Laurence Corner and had my elbows on the window sill. Being on Parliament Hill, his flat had a fantastic view. Looking out the window I could see much of London spread out before me along the Thames. It was in the late afternoon and the sun shone on the distant buildings bringing them into bold relief. The view was so enthralling that I didn't pay sufficient attention to what was happening to my butt. After I got home to Washington, I discovered I had bruises and welts from his cane well down the outside of my right thigh. That experience led me to swear not to let anyone cane me again.

On my next play trip to London, which was in 1986, I didn't look Rupert up. I met a charming, attractive young man who loved to get paddled; I'll call him Jonny. Jonny had had an affair with an American Air Force officer stationed in Germany and acquired a taste for the frat paddle from him. It turned out Jonny knew Rupert and regarded him as a curiosity as I had.

I later learned from Jonny that Rupert — or, more properly, Anthony Earl-Williams — had been the topic of a scandal exposé by the London "gutter press". The headline on the Daily Mail had been "Tory Bigwig a Closet Spanker." It seems someone had linked the telephone number Earl-Williams listed with the Tory Party with the number that appeared in a trade advertisement that said "Rupert Canes Naughty Gentlemen". For over a week Rupert had been unable to return to his flat because of reporters camped on the doorstep waiting to get a picture or a comment. Later, I chanced to buy a copy of The Times at a news seller in Washington and found a little story indicating Anthony Earl-Williams had been expelled from the Conservative Party.

In a column in The Guardian dated 9 February 2000, Earl-Williams was said to be on a list of candidates for national executive of UKIP (the UK Independence Party, which later become associated with Brexit). The columnist wrote:

Later, Earl-Willliams (aka Rupert Pendragon) appears to have re-invented himself as a bishop of the self-styled English Catholic Church.

CatholicCulture.org, reported June 15, 2010 that "Anthony Earl-Williams, the leader of a sect that has been variously characterized as "Old Catholic" and "traditional Catholic," has been involved in prurient activities of a homosexual nature, The Sun reports. The ArchConfraternity of Our Lady of Victories, whose metropolitan bishop is Earl-Williams, claims 40 parishes and missions in the United Kingdom." The piece has a link to an article in The Sun titled "Ben got bashed by kinky bishop."

Source: https://www.catholicculture.org/news/headlines/index.cfm?storyid=6648

A blog called Clerical Whispers reported June 16, 2010, that:

This story was also picked up by Spanking News.

Source: http://www.spanking-news.com/?p=365

Years later another friend in London told me of having gotten together with Rupert on a couple of occasions and finding him too drunk to use the cane. My friend also said Earl-Williams had been involved in drawing benefits to which he was not entitled.

So my first play trip to England proved to be a memorable one. To the best of my knowledge, Earl-Williams is still at his flimflammery.

Update 20 July 2025

I just learned that Anthony Earl-Williams died a couple months ago at age 74. A correspondent googled his name and found the information. Here is a screen shots from the CamdenNewJournal independent London newspaper's website (see this link) and website of the Old Catholic Apostolic Church in Swindon (see this other link).