Peccadillo Circus By Lizzie Roper Directed By Leisa Rea ON TOUR
Unity Theatre Liverpool 16th March 0151 709 4988 Cardiff Millenium Theatre 23rd March 08700 402000 South Street Reading 24th March 0118 960 606 0 Plough Arts Torrington 30th March 01805 624624 Swindon Arts Centre 5th May 01793 614837 Norwich Playhouse 9th June01603 598 598 Croydon Clocktower 16th June 020 8253 1030
bad day, left for oxford at ten to do a one hour voice over, got stuck in snow and buggery and finally got home at 5pm.
on the up side met a 12 week old spaniel puppy called Missy.
down side I am fed up with signing into My space and seeing doe eyed girls sighing back at me. It seems the law now regarding any women between the ages of 16 and 26 on this site think the only way to present themselves in photos is by stripping down to their scantiest cheap nylon underwear, sticking that finger near their mouth (why?) and doing that pose at the camera that says, 'oh gosh any minute now I might just slip on your cock' Arrrgh.
and then men go around collecting them like some sort of cyber Hannibal lecter, put them in their top friends, 'rate' their photos and then for some reason contact me and ask if i want to be part of the harum... I mean 'one of their friends'
fuck off.
and some cunt wrote to me and said I was a MILF. Apparantly thats 'Mother I'd like To Fuck'. Jesus god I'm supposed to be complimented and grateful that some pre pubescent, acne scarred, maccdonalds wielding, cunt fuck, who I've never met, would like to empty his balls in me!!! Jesus Christ. Oh whoop deee doo and lucky fucking me.
I'd rather fuck the orangutan from 'Every Which Way but Lose' at least his breath would only smell of bananas.
AAAAAAAAAAARGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.
on the up side my cat is curled up next to me and doing that grunty content thing animals do.
I'm really lucky. I get to go to see films and plays and comedy shows a lot and usually for free. This week I've seen Phil Nichol's award winning show, The Marriage of Figaro dress rehearsal at the ENO, Bent, the Borat film (where I had to be interviewed after by Trevor MacDonald's people to defend it), Hollywoodland at the LFF, and tomorrow Two Graves. I love going to the theatre or movies. But it seems every single time I sit in an audience of people I am so disgusted and affronted by the audience's behavior I turn into Mrs Tutty from Tooting.
When I saw Bent I sat in front of four schoolgirls who howled through the first half of the show, blubbing and snuffling, gargling their snot and gasping at such horror. It's a show about Gay men in a Nazi concentration Camp. The clues in the title... and the photos of emaciated poofs and swastikas outside the theatre. What were they expecting, jokes? Songs? Shirley Fucking Bassey? They kicked the back of my chair throughout the first half they were so upset. And ensured they shared their grief as loudly as possible, in that way that only teenage girls will. Ramming down your throat just how much more pain and understanding they felt, far more than you a mere adult could possibly imagine. Or all you quiet pensioners sitting all around the theatre. But not a single girlie had a fucking tissue so mucus membranes were permanently rattled as they sucked their girlish snot up into their empty little heads.
It was a fantastic production, beautifully directed; only I couldn't get emotionally involved with it, not with the sound of four girls snorting bogeys down the back of my neck, whilst wiping and snuffling snail trails into their faces and hands. I felt like I was swimming through a pool of snot, drowning in the deep end whilst swallowing an anonymous used elastoplast, watching a turd float towards me.
In the second half, it reached new levels of perversion. While the girls continued to sniff up their boogers for everyone's benefit, (not one of them thought in the interval, 'hmm...it's probably not going to have a happy ending perhaps we should get some tissues from the loos and stop sharing our snot fest with the entire theatre') we got to the part in the play where we're watching two gay prisoners in a concentration camp, emaciated, shaved, humiliated, heaving rocks, then forced to stand still in teh heat by the Nazis as an extra perverse element to their torture, and they declare their love for each other... accompanied by the sounds of bogeys clattering around inside tiny teenage noses.
The lady sitting beside me must have had an internal conversation that probably went a little like this...
''Hmm two emaciated, shaved, dehumanised, tortured, humiliated gay men in a concentration camp hanging on by an emotional thread...
I could murder some chocolate.''
So she stuck her hand in her bag and noisily removed an extra large bag of minstrels and did that slow thing, ARGH. And slowly, slooooowly munched her way through half a pound of chocolate dipped in a crisp candy shell; as the skinny men on stage were humiliated and eventually murdered only 8 foot from her relentlessly chomping gob. At which point the cacophony of mucus from behind me drowned out the Nazi machine guns.
See now, what they'd done was confuse watching a live show, with slobbing about at home with a DVD of Two Pints of Lager and a Packet of pissing crisps.
I'd be so happy to go to a show or film and before it starts, instead of that insipid ring of a mobile phone, which is supposed to remind you to turn yours off that this announcement plays out. I..d be happy to do the voice over for free.
'Good Evening Ladies and Gentlemen and Welcome to the show, please turn off your mobile phone. Turn it off. Now. Don..t assume it is off, Bloody check it is. Don..t assume I..m not talking to YOU. I am. Is it off, Is it?
If it does go off, even after all this, don..t pretend it isn..t yours. Turn the bloody thing off and don't even attempt to answer it in your 'whisper voice'... For the next hour and a half you're not available to the outside world, that's part of the joy of watching something live, you cunt-hole. The outside world doesn't exist, for a whole Hour and a half. And don't put it on silent, It wastes the callers time and if you leave your phone on silent it will vibrate irritatingly or interfere with the sound. OK, then, sorted your phone? So... do you want to do a poo or a wee? Go now quickly, QUICKLY or cross your legs, otherwise sit in a pool of your own effluent. If you want to scratch something, Don't. If you want to talk about something, tough. Finish your conversation now. It's not important, really, it's not, you're talking shit and no one else wants to hear it. You can resume spouting crap after the show. And don't even think about bringing someone who can't speak English along and then give them a running translation of the show, you will be taken outside and shot. If you're thirsty, tough. Hungry? Tougher! If you're blood sugar levels can't cope without chocolate for an hour and a half can we suggest you fuck off now and go and watch some repeats of Trisha or Jeremy Kyle in the foyer where you are welcome to talk, walk, piss, shit, eat and make calls at your leisure.
chipper
aggravated