| Shipwrecked |
| Words: Dusty | |
| Monday, 20 August 2007 | |
|
It is my sad duty to report that the good ship, Dusty Limits, sank without trace on Friday 17th August with the loss of all hands. Luckily, it resurfaced of its own accord Sunday 19th August. The log-book reads: Friday, August 17th A day off! A blessed day off! Like a condemned man who realises on the gallows that the hangman is in fact his cousin Alphonse (with whom he shared so many happy and blackmail-worthy teenage moments), I find myself crowing at the skies in celebration of freedom. What shall I do? I shall go and see a show with the most intriguing title ever, The Gently Progressive Behemoth. What a delight! What charm! What wit! Any show that can open with a series of jokes about mnemonics is bound to be a winner. What next? I shall go to the Spiegeltent and buy prosecco for all the poor urchins. Bless them! I have tickets for Amanda Palmer and Meow Meow, so I have every reason to hang out in what is, on a Friday night, otherwise a hell-pit of Ben Sherman shirts and raised eyebrows. Amanda Palmer is a goddess. A weird brilliant cabaret goddess. Did the Greeks have a goddess of cabaret? Did they even have cabaret? Where is Wikipedia when you need it? Her show tonight instantly entered my favourite cabaret shows of all time list, which includes Ute Lemper and Camille O'Sullivan. Meow Meow then proceeds to deconstruct all that entire cabaret history with enviable talent. Nothing remains for me but to go to the Speakeasy and drink in the fashion of sailors... Saturday 18th August We shall draw a discreet veil over today. Largely because I can't remember most of it. If we spirits have offended, think of this as the spirits that were offending. Particularly the gin. But the water is now around my ankles and the boards are creaking in a disturbing way. I wonder how long remains to me. How will I meet my Maker? With a tune on my lips? The water laps at my throat like a vampire puppy. Adieu! Sunday 19th August A miraculous recovery! The powers of Chinese food, red wine and the Oxford Imps were enough to get me to dry land. But tonight's Vaudeville was the real tonic. Although it took three Red Bulls just to get me upright on stage, when Suitcase Royale performed their glorious Meatloaf male drag tribute (think air guitar and lip-synching) my spirits lifted. And when Paprika Balkanicus played the most jaw-dropping set seen on the Bongo stage for a long while, my heart rose (as the audience did, in an entirely-deserved standing ovation). Yes, Ladies and Gentlemen, I am here to confirm that Art has powers unknown to any drug or medicine. |