By Billy Masters

If I hadn't been there, I wouldn't believe it. I'm talking about the national tour of Legends! starring Joan Collins and Linda Evans. This play has been creaking across the country for the past four months and has been universally panned—albeit more for the play than the acting, although no one is throwing the word "Tony" around, either. What most people don't know is that Collins tried to obtain backing for a tour of Auntie Mame! When that idea stalled, Legends! moved forward. The opening night in Los Angeles was the stuff real "legends" are made of. After all, I doubt anyone in the audience was prepared to see the Collins coochie!

Lots of stars of yesteryear came to cheer on the gals, headed by Joan's baby sister, Jackie Collins, and Dynasty co-stars Pamela Sue Martin, Al Corley, Gordon Thomson and Pamela Bellwood. By the way, Mrs. John Forsythe assured me that John is improving each day. Others on hand included Lainie Kazan, Lorenzo Lamas, Doris Roberts, Bruce Vilanch, Jill St. John, Robert Wagner, Rip Taylor, Michele Lee, Michael Feinstein, Jane Withers, Stacy Keach, Dina Merrill, Leslie Jordan, Charlotte Rae and Jackie Bissett. These people's presence (to say nothing of the opening night press) makes this story all the more tragic.

I won't bore you with a critique—you want that info, go read a review. Bottom line: If you're interested in seeing these two ladies, you get your money's worth, which is the same review I gave the last Jeff Stryker venture. Although the gals look better than one might expect, Miss Collins has gained a significant amount of weight since the tour began—and it's all settled in her lower abdomen. Her very fitted Nolan Miller creations now make her look like she's in her second trimester, which is highly unlikely.

After the first act, a very famous person asked if I wanted to switch seats (my seat was closer to the rear). When I asked why this celeb didn't want a plum position up front, the answer was, "I just can't take it—it's too scary up there!" I immediately bounded to within spitting distance of the stage, and thank God I did.

Shortly into the second act, Joan's one-piece jumpsuit turned into an off-the-shoulder number. She repeatedly tried to pull the top back up, but when she turned around, it was clear that the zipper was sliding down (or was busted). This allowed us to see her bare back —save for a very tight, very wide strapless bra that looked like an Ace bandage or perhaps those strips of cloth used in mummification. While Linda was talking, Joan subtly tried to reach back and fix the zipper, to no avail. It just kept going lower and lower. That's when Joan did the first of several costume changes. She snatched the scarf she occasionally used for effect and tied it around her shoulders. This worked until the zipper slid to her waist. At that point, the scarf became a shawl as Joan draped it down her back. All the while, Collins and the gal playing the maid took turns at the zipper.

Then disaster struck. Joan spun around dramatically, and the zipper dipped below her waist, threatening to expose her pantyhose-encased derriere (sans undies, to avoid those pesky panty lines). The scarf now became a belt! At this point in the play, the ladies are getting ready for a guest. Joan dashed to the bedroom door and said loudly (presumably to anyone off-stage within earshot), "Maybe I have something in here to throw on." Nothing materialized. Linda ran over to help. Everyone in the audience knew what was going on, so Joan ad libbed, "Thanks, darling, I almost showed my ass." Linda quipped, "But it's a great ass." Nolan Miller, seated behind me, almost had a stroke, while I was convulsing with giggles as I witnessed something normally reserved for doctors—or archeaologists. The zipper was a goner, and Joan finished the play without turning her back to the audience ... until it was time for her exit. Linda walked off, carrying a cape (never offering it to Collins, I should add). When Joan left, she literally flashed the crowd! I can just see the headlines—"Beaver Spotted in Beverly Hills"!

Days earlier, I went to the L.A. premiere of Steven Fales' Confessions of a Mormon Boy. I previously reviewed this one-man show over two years ago when I saw it at the New York International Fringe Festival. Since then, it has undergone a series of edits. Some work, some don't. A good half-hour could be cut out of the exposition, although I presume Fales is happy with the current state. No one can deny that he's attractive, engaging and likeable. But for an autobiographical piece, much of it comes off exceptionally insincere—kinda like when Susan Lucci says "thank you" in that hollow way. Fales is recounting his journey to self-awareness and living in the truth, but I didn't buy it. My companion that evening disagreed—"You can live in the truth, but the truth ain't always pretty."

Our "Ask Billy" letter comes from Kirk in New Jersey: "I just saw [the Broadway play] The Little Dog Laughed and loved it. Johnny Galecki was great as the escort and Tom Everett Scott was so hot. They were both naked, but you only saw Tom's ass (which was beautiful) and Johnny has a huge dick. Have any pics surfaced? How is the show doing?"

I'm a big fan of Douglas Carter Beane, who wrote The Little Dog Laughed, and I'm glad for his Broadway debut. Unfortunately, the show hasn't been selling well and will be closing on Feb. 18. The production opened on Nov. 13 and has been running at roughly 45 percent capacity for the past month. I'm told that folks who have seen the play thoroughly enjoy it—particularly the performance of Julie White as the agent who tries to keep her star client (Scott) in the closet, despite his relationship with hooker Galecki. A photo of Johnny's very impressive penis can be found on www.billymasters.com.

I must acknowledge the passing of Darlene Conley, one of the most dynamic and gracious actresses I've ever met. Darlene was best known for playing Sally Spectra on The Bold and the Beautiful, but her career spanned many decades, including appearances in such films as The Birds, The Valley of the Dolls and Lady Sings the Blues. Whenever I ran into Darlene, she was every inch a star, with her larger-than-life, bawdy personality. Sure, she could make you laugh at her outrageousness, but moments later, she could break your heart with a quiet moment that was striking in its simplicity. She was bold and beautiful.

Could it be that Los Angeles is set for a new scandal? Everyone's talking about the upcoming performance by Shirley Q. Liquor and Betty Butterfield. In these days of political correctness and racial sensitivity, Shirley's shocking persona has attracted both fans and foes. God only knows what will happen at WeHo hotspot The Factory on Sunday, Feb. 11. Grab tickets before the show is sold out at www.circuiticket.com. More information is available at (323) 969-4900 or via e-mail at shirleyqinla@aol.com.

When I can compare Joan Collins to Jeff Stryker, it's most definitely time to end yet another column. Since we're over our space constraints, let me remind you to check out www.billymasters.com for the latest and greatest in gossip. For specific questions, drop a note to billy@billymasters.com and I promise to get back to you before Nolan designs Joan a muumuu! Until next time, remember, one man's filth is another man's bible.