Arts: It was going to be nuns or lesbians for us. And we were quite excited

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The first thing you need to know is that I loved Showgirls. Not in a campy, joky way. I actually thought it was an inspiring movie - a full-frontal Fame. I tell you this because I want you to understand why I went to see Voyeurz. Despite the scathing reviews and the fact that it closes, prematurely, tonight, I hoped that the "pornographic lipstick lesbian musical" had been misinterpreted due to the shackles of media irony. Unfortunately, no. It was shockingly bad (and boring) on every level. My God, I thought Showgirls was good. Now I think it's Ingmar Bergman.

Myself and my girlfriends are especially upset because, frankly, we had been considering becoming lesbians and since seeing Voyeurz we don't even fancy Drew Barrymore anymore (even the most staunchly heterosexual of girls has a crush on Drew Barrymore). I think it was the lousy acting, S&M gear, strobe lights, astonishingly unattractive women and techno-beat chants of "Love, desire, sex, pain/ whips, religion, lust, shame!" that did it. We had been considering becoming vegetarians too, so thank goodness they didn't try to make that into an erotic musical or we would have been straight out the door looking for the nearest McDonalds.

And we really had been up for it. We've had a bad time with boys of late and had come to agree with Jack Lemmon's statement in Some Like It Hot that men are "nasty, hairy beasts with eight hands". It was going to be nuns or lesbians for us. And we were quite excited about it. We just weren't prepared for the warped male idea of how two girls in love behave. I love you, so I'm going to tie you up and make you watch me do a strange, sub- Madonna leather dance. Get me out of here.

Looking around, we saw that the theatre was peopled solely with beery lads on stag nights and we began to feel very self-conscious. It's not that I'd be embarrassed if anyone thought I was Susie's lover. We'd make a bloody good couple, actually. She has the face of Shirley MacLaine, the body of Jane Mansfield and the personality of Jimmy Cranky. Aged eight, she convinced her classmates that she had written "Free Nelson Mandela" until she began to believe it herself. At the same age, I was convinced that I had won the London marathon (when in fact my Dad had carried me on his shoulder in a fun run, and Jimmy Saville had said "well done", which is why I was confused - easy mistake to make). And we're both in love with Jim Carrey and Gene Wilder. Yes, the strongest argument that we should go out together is that we fancy all the same men. Doh. Okay, so even if it's not meant to be, I wouldn't give a damn if people think we're lesbians. I just really didn't want the men in the audience to think we were part of the show.

As they unleashed rubber techno anthem after rubber techno anthem and gyrated like evil monkeys, I was so upset that I had to keep grabbing Susie, who screamed "Aargh - get off me. They'll think we are! They'll drag us up on stage." This was not an enticing prospect, peopled as the show was with a vile assortment of women who looked like they would sleep with Jack Nicholson. According to the next day's tabloids, many of them had. Chris Minna, who is the only genuine lesbian in the show, almost made it less awful. It used to be said that Jean Simmons looked like a sketch of Elizabeth Taylor. Chris Minna looks like a sketch of Justine Frischmann. She's absolutely gorgeous. So for about five seconds, we were back on the path to sapphic heaven. And then one of the Jack Nicholson birds took her kit off.

The minds behind Voyeurz had wisely removed the interval so that people couldn't walk out, but we did anyway. And we staggered up Whitehall, feeling quite queasy, scraping at our flesh like Lady Macbeth, desperate to feel clean again. Things have not really been the same between us since. I don't think Susie trusts me not to get drunk one night and force her to watch me do an evil monkey dance. Damn them and their nasty leather and crap choreography. If I was living in America, I would sue the producers of Voyeurz for curtailing my potential interest in lesbianism and for damaging my sense of adventure.