John Waters: The Role Models in my Life (book reading and Q&A) Watershed Cinema, Bristol, UK.

Something's noticeably different about the Watershed tonight. The usual attendees (smart-casual Guardian-subscribing liberals) have been replaced by a giggling horde of polka-dotted fag hags, art-schoolers and curious old queens. In short, the queue snaking its way toward Watershed Screen 1 resembles the cast from a John Waters film – and its awash with genuine excitement and anticipation. JW has a rabid cult following in Bristol, it seems.

My companion and I can't profess to having known much, or been particular fans of, Mr Waters output before this. But even to the uninitiated, the man is a delight to watch. Enthusiastic, frequently hilarious, and in possession of copious oddball anecdotes – the like of which you only pick up over a lifetime spent documenting the underbelly of American culture.

Touring in support of his new book 'Role Models', he begins with a reading from said book which is mercifully short. Not because the reading is dull per se, but he's such a charming interviewee, a longer reading would have cut into what already felt like too little time in his company. And what spectacular company it is. His suave appearance and bizarre voice are matched by his star-like presence yet humble attitude. His anecdotes are both hysterical and absurd, his answers eloquent, and despite his stature, it always feels like he’s addressing friends at a party. We begin to wish we had smuggled our cocktails in from the Bar.

He tells of his early days in 1960s Baltimore, getting to grips with his homosexuality, and his encounters with the bizarrely repressed patrons of the city’s ‘telephone clubs’ (“I may be gay but I’m not that!”). And he talks warmly of his relationship with childhood friend and early muse/whipping boy, Divine (Right).

But its not all jocularity. He talks soberly of the difficulties facing independent film directors these days (too few truly independent companies left, too little money to go around), and he dedicates a large proportion of the Q&A to answering questions on his relationship with former Manson family member Leslie Van Houten. Van Houten is obviously a close friend, and he manages to negotiate a careful line between explaining his support for her parole, whilst never condoning the Manson family’s crimes. It shows a delicate and eloquent side to him that is often hidden beneath the trashy public image.

Then, without missing a beat, he tells the story of a Baltimore man he once met who was 'so gay he couldn't stand up'. And therein lies the essence of his character – a mixture of warmth, humanity, absurdist humour and trashy sensibilities.

The talk finishes all too soon, and we’d happily spend the entire evening in his presence. Alas, my companion and I leave as the chaotic book-signing begins – the crowd are baying for more and we decide to get out and continue the cocktails elsewhere – something we’re sure Mr Waters would not disapprove of. Its hard to imagine anyone else who could have turned this usually quiet cinema into a skid-row pride rally. There’s definitely something in the Waters.

Justin Clark