I haven’t ‘done’ a blog for a while. I didn’t write a thing whist in Edinburgh so here are some thoughts, recollections etc now that I am back in London, decompressing. This will probably not make sense.
I landed on 8th August, after an 8 hour drive, provided by one Frog Morris, at about 5pm. I was immediately whisked off to see the splendiferous Penny Dreadfuls, who, of course, were splendiferous. I didn’t see that many shows over the month after this but I DID TRY.
Bannermans is ace. It is my kind of pub. Great ale, extensive whiskey list and heavy rock bands playing every evening. As a member of the original line-up of hard-core punk band Jesus of Spazzareth, I was quickly drawn to one of the bands listed to be performing at the venue, one Lords of Bastard. What a great name for a band. It soon transpired that Chris, the very patient and helpful venue tech was the bassist in Lords of Bastard. I bought a t-shirt. I never got to see them play, unfortunately. The one gig they had over August clashed with Toby Hadoke‘s one-off performance of ‘Moths Ate My Doctor Who Scarf’, which was fantastic. Next year…
Anyway, some highlights/things I did:
Playing the spoons for Robin Ince at his book signing/launch and ‘duetting’ with Stewart Lee; destroying a poetry slam with Mark Quinn, Tom Philips, and Richard Tyrone-Jones, who, despite being the most disruptive and trouble-making out of the 4 of us, managed to WIN THE SLAM. We’re very proud; Richard Tyrone-Jones ‘awarding’ an audience member the prize of a YMCA 7″, covered in fromage frais, during Utter! Weirdness; Playing the spoons for Robin Ince in Paul Zenon’s midnight cabaret and Robin telling the audience ‘You are all dead’; Gutted: A Revenger’s Musical. Twice. It is great, if you didn’t see it, you really did miss out; Getting an 8 star review for my show, Audi, Vide, Tace (thanks Jim!); Richard Dawkins Does Not Exist. And We Can Prove It being totally packed out each date to the point that we were turning people away; Frog Morris‘ delightful rendition of Virginia Plains at Karaoke Circus; the same Frog Morris perplexing Andrew O’Neill with the words ‘Black Pudding’; Bane. Bane. Bane. What a brilliant, brilliant show.
Oh, meat toast. One morning Mark bought from a local shop something by the name of a ‘Scottish Breakfast’. This contained meat, meat and more meat. Sausages, bacon, black pudding, fruit pudding and what came to be known in our flat as ‘Meat Toast’. One of the meats was in thin slices, we assumed to represent the ‘toast’ part of the breakfast, seeing as the ‘meat’ bit was well and truly covered.
There is more.
Apologies, this is only really interesting to me, but I had a ball. I really did. Roll on Edinburgh 2011. I already have plans hatching. Sorry about the smell.