Cold-blooded basking creatures

I'm very much enjoying Bill Bailey saving adders next to the A74. I have a strange feeling that he's attempting to emulate Tony Robinson in moving into more'serious' broadcasting, but having watched Llewtrah's DVD, I know that it could be an extension of his shed fixation.

Went to the Slimelight last night, which I barely remember so it was prabably good. Though I awoke today (relishing the extra hour) with black nails, which I remember painting, and cuts on one of my wrists. I don't remember how that happened at all, so I'm left just hoping that I'm not developing suicidal tendencies in my drunken stupors.

While I'm here I should also take a moment to praise Supernatural which I've been watching recently. Often by myself at about 4 in the morning which has frequently creeped the shit out of me.

And finally, everyone should be aware that there's an environmental rally outside the US Embassy in Grovesner Square (round the back of Marble Arch) this coming Saturday. For more info, have a look here. Seems to me it could be a blog-meet in a very good cause. Maybe see people there?

-The best thing would be to kill me, like the other.
-Like what other?
-Like billions of others.

Blogging my shame for the world

I have today, within the past two hours, found myself agreeing with such figures of hate and revulsion as: Tony Blair, Gary Bushell and David Mellor.

By all the gods, what has happened to me?

I'm trying to console myself with the fact that I at least made to vomit blood when confronted by Nick Griffin.

Nobody comes, nobody goes. It's awful.

-Let's go.

-We can't.

-Why not?

-We're waiting for Godot.

..Which I saw at the New Ambassadors last Thursday. My quick verdict: Very good. Not perfect, but I have extremely high standards when it comes to Beckett productions. Some of the guys at work were shocked when I stated that there is Shakespeare and then there's Beckett and no-one else is quite in the same league.

(I should mention, by way of qualification, that not only does this not mean that there is not awesome work by others out there, but, in fact, my favourite play isn't by Shakespeare or Beckett. I just think that, in terms of both style and ideas, Beckett and Shakespeare are the most consistently excellent.)

Didi and Gogo were both fabulous, playing at a faster pace than I would have chosen, but the resulting pith made up for the audience missing some of the jokes. It's always a difficult balance to strike with Beckett, and I don't begrudge them making a different choice to my own preference. I was a little less pleased by Pozzo and Lucky - once again, because of the direction, rather than anything the actors did badly. Pozzo could have been a little more superior, while Lucky gave a striking physical performance, but never one that spoke to me of exhaustion, nor of carrying the world on his shoulders.

Lucky's speech (particularly dear to me) was technically very impressive, funny, and it clearly amused the audience, but there was none of the urgency that the speech needs. The thoughts should be tripping over themselves on their way out; a continuous stream that has become rapids by the end. The speech contains three core ideas and these weren't put across to the audience inany way that they could have possibly understood without studying the play first. As I say, I think this must be laid at the door of Peter Hall (never let it be said that I won't tell truth to, or at least about, authority) rather than the actor, who did what was asked of him with aplomb.

Review over for the moment, I'd like to add my voice to the idea of a larger blog get-together. It's very intriguing to put faces to personalities, though it can be difficult to make the initial identification.

Unless you are, in fact, a cartoon dog like Billy.


-- Can somebody tell me what kind of a town we live in, where a man dressed up as a bat gets all of my press?! This town needs an enema!