Practise Pad

I think I might start utilising this blog to play around with some little vignettes I have floating around my noggin at any given time. It will hopefully be an effective method for practise.





So...spose I'll give it a bash...





DIALOGUE GAMES





Bloody opinionated...she knows that's what she's being. How can someone have that many opinions about one thing. She's getting really animated now, it's engaging and irritating to watch at the same time.





What?





That was meant for me, was I staring too hard?





Are you alright?





Say no, say that you're not really, you've got things on your mind and you'd like to tell her that...Yeah, course, why wouldn't I be?





Were you listening to what I was saying?





Yes and not really, don't say that though. Don't tell her you are always listening but you don't always take it in because you can't help but think of things she's said before...Nah, not really, you bore me.





Fucksake...I'm a dick, but she finds that funny, she thinks I'm funny.





Ha ha - that's fine, you're too stupid anyway.





She doesn't mean that...I don't think she means it anyway, besides, she's probably right.





Can I have a cigarette?





I like the way she smokes a cigarette, she's one of those few people who really, really enjoys it without being heavily addicted. Secretly she likes smoking because of the way it looks, some form of vintage nostalgia thing. That strikes me as silly...but in a nice way





Don't look at me like that





Oh, wait, how was I looking? Did my thought process translate as disapproval... smoking is bad for you.





So's your face





I think she's funny too. Better give her a cigarette



You smoke...



Yeah, but I don't care what happens to me



Oh but you care about what happens to me?



She smirks at me as though she's caught me out in some elaborate lie

Here, smoke...have two, smoke yourself silly!

She's looking at me with a furrowed brow, I think she sensed the very subtle snap in my tone that surprised even me...I feel bad now.

Are you sure you're alright?

Yeah, really, I would tell you if I wasn't

She doesn't smirk this time, she hasn't caught me, my lie stays airtight. She's looking at me, biting her bottom lip, this makes me feel weird...

You know something...

She leans in, eyes wide and expectant...what?

Has anyone ever told you...

She plays with the cigarette I gave her, almost nervously

...that you're funny looking.

She laughs, relaxing slightly but not completely.

Let's go smoke

I follow her outside, kicking myself every step of the way

DONE - Don't know what that is but it was fun to play around with dialogue - internal vs external.

Monday, Bloody Monday

This is going to sound cliche but up until fairly recently I didn't really appreciate the full meaning of this particular cliche but weekends are far too short!


As I've mentioned before I've recently started a new stage in my career that involves working Monday to Friday, 9 til 5pm and I think I'm really struggling. Before now I have always worked a shift pattern; working in the arts normally means that shift work is inevitable and because I never knew any different I assumed that working 9 until 5 was probably better, everyone leads you to believe that. But now that I'm actually doing it...well, I don't know, it's a bit too routine.

I used to quite enjoy having a couple of random days off in the middle of the week; maybe a Tuesday and Wednesday or Thursday and Friday - it was good to mix it up. That and there was the added bonus of it being relatively quiet to drink in town midweek, much fewer fuckwits cutting into my drinking time with their obnoxiousness!

Monday flies through to Friday fairly quickly but oh boy is the weekend over even faster - they should really make weekends three days, two is not enough.

The routine of the week makes it feel like time is literally slipping through my fingers and more alarmingly slipping away from me completely before I even had a moment to assess what I might have done with it given half a chance...or even a quarter of a chance...there's a lot you can do with a cheeky wee half!

Even this blog, I started writing this on Monday (hence the title) and it's been published on Tuesday...where the fuck did Tuesday spring from?

When you really sit down and think about how much time you spend doing things you don't really like, well, you'll give yourself a fright followed by gin soaked wallowing. So best not to dwell on it really...I think I speak for most of my peers when I say work = boo!

So effectively what I want to be able to do is manage my time to it's full potential; this should include working in some format to pay the bills and keeping me in the style to which I am accustomed, acheiving all my goals and seeing the places I want to see, an hour for lunch, making sure I spend enough time having good chat with my friends and family, quick shower and fitting in some leisure time before bed.

This could be linked to my aforementioned issue with sleep...there are 24 useable hours in every day you know.

I think I'll go spend 4-6 hours putting all this into a colour coded spread sheet...

Sleepy Head

I reckon that I probably won't sleep well again tonight, although I had planned on going to bed early (I plan on that every night) but I won't. Just I like I didn't last night, or the night before that, or the night before that and for nights before that as far back as I can remember.

I have some pretty serious issues with sleep that I'm quite keen to get to the bottom of; its not that I can't sleep...it's more that I won't. I think it's got something to do with a desire to keep the current day going, to absorb as many of those 24 hours as possible. Once I am in there I tend to konk out like a light but it's getting there that's the problem, I don't know why I just don't go to bed when I need to...hmmm.

There's another thing, I cannot get my head round this Monday to Friday 9 til 5 business I'm working with at the moment, seriously, what's that all about? Only two days off every weekend and they are the same two days every week, shyah!

Thing is I stay up late, writing pish like this then can't get up in the morning which directly affects my day, makes me unhappy and although I vow not to do it again, I do! Why is this?!

Maybe I should try hypnosis...or another gin & tonic...*sigh*

The Hapless Romantics

I was filming this weekend in the wilds of Milngavie, up on the moors where the view is spectacular and it's very, very cold. A very good friend who is going to be a famous director one day (trust me) was filming a romantic little short about a useless chap and a bohemian girl sharing a perfect date. It's going to be black and white, no dialogue and very pretty, PB (the director) assures me and I have absolutely no doubt of this, he's really rather talented.

It was a lovely shoot, my leading man was an excellent actor and as it happens another very good friend. The shoot concluded with the couple sharing a kiss, the sort of kiss you share with someone for the first time who you know you are falling in love with. It was a little weird, I think made more so by the fact that my partner was being played by someone who I've known for years and am close with, for some reason that made it slightly harder than it would have been had it been a stranger...isn't that odd? After a few takes it was fine.

B - my actor friend - remarked that the shoot reminded him of how nice it feels to be in those early stages of a romance. It was pretend but it reminded me of that too and got me thinking about relationships. They are funny little creatures aren't they?

I won't spoil it for you because as soon as it is ready I will no doubt post the footage everywhere and you will see for yourselves but one of the main themes of the film is disconnection and the notion that relationships can sometimes not live up to how we idealise them in our heads.

We all do that, we build up the idea of someone in our heads so much that the reality can never live up to our expectations. There are obviously varying extremes to this state of mind, the worst case of it is called being a "hopeless romantic". The more cynical end of the spectrum bitterly questions whether or not "romance is dead", was it ever "alive" to begin with? What is romantic for some is utterly prosaic to others.

For example; I define romance as the ability to sit with someone over a case of beer and debate the finer points of why Aliens is one of the best films ever made or whether or not Han did indeed shoot first (he did by the way). For others it's flowers and getting dinner bought for them...I don't like flowers, they make me sneeze and they die, which is depressing, and I can buy my own dinner thank you very much. SO, for me, romance is really what you make of it.

However, when you first meet someone you really like, every bloody thing is romantic isn't it? It's really rather disgusting. The rush you get when you make them laugh and when you discover how much you have in common is so delightful that the whole situation becomes blurry and a bit silly. You decide at that point that you want to spend as much time as you can with this person and pretty soon, before you even realise it, you've hit the couple of years mark. Which is great! But it's a different kind of romance then; a form of romance built on tolerance, comfort and a certain level of dependency that is satisfying but also slightly disconcerting, although I don't know why that is. It's at this stage that every human being pines after those early stages, we can't help it, it's in our nature. We all pine after what we can't have or place way too much onus on what we look back on through rose coloured glasses.

But then we must remember that there are some things that are just that, rose coloured, stained that way by only remembering the fun parts and omitting the other stuff, the less than rosey stuff. The stomach churning awkwardness, the tiring analysis and occasional "game playing" and constant need to be "on" in those early stages.

But it's all good fun...and it makes for good film fodder.

And by the way...believe it or not, I am in fact, a hopeless romantic.

xxx Ciao

There's no business like it...

Firstly I should probably apologise for not updating this more frequently (to whom I am apologising I am unsure as I very much doubt a single person reads this drivel!) but I did start a blog then immediately neglect it which I suppose is quite naughty!

Anyway - to remedy this, this evenings meanderings are to do with ambition, creative integrity and subsequently professionalism.

I have some pretty serious concerns about what is happening to the cabaret/variety industry. As some people might be aware I am a relatively established cabaret performer; I have been singing, burlesquing and generally acting the fool for entertainment purposes for a number of years now and without tooting my own horn I think I am pretty good at what I do. In saying that; I didn't get to this more than capable stage in my career without time, effort and a hell of a lot of work. I didn't wake up one morning and think "Hmm, I'm pretty bored of my average 9 to 5, I think I'll strike out as an actor/singer/comedian/dancer* (* delete as applicable)". It's all I've ever done and all I've ever wanted to do; I've been everything from the back end of a pantomime cow to the understudy for the lead in a big-budget musical. I've also spent my entire life working in theatres; I've been a stage manager, a technical monkey, an event manager and bar floozy. Learning absolutely EVERYTHING I can about the industry and how it works.
What concerns me is not really relevant to the more serious industry of "legitimate theatre" as most people understand it; to be a professional actor who is in regular paid work you need an agent, you need connections and more often than not you need real training (that and a shit load of luck). These factors weed out deluded amateurs and prevent them from declaring themselves professional actors.

The cabaret & variety scene - specifically with reference to "burlesque performers" - is a WHOLE other barrel of cockney monkeys. Not only has the resurgence in popularity for this artform spawned a veritable army of mediocre to down-right appalling "performers" who are slapping on the title of "professional burlesque performer" as carelessly as they do a cheap pair of Ann Summers nipple tassels they are also diluting, defragmenting and pretty much destroying the legitimacy of true burlesque as an artform. It really, REALLY concerns me. These people claim to love burlesque but they are directly responsible for no-one taking it seriously and the level of ignorance for what it actually is being displayed is quite frankly shocking.

Not only that but it's seeping into other areas of performance; circus for example! Now don't get me wrong, as a fire-performer who has a lot of very good friends who work within this industry, I am delighted that colleagues and friends are earning a decent crust now more than ever before due to a renewed interest in workshops such as trapeze etc. But if I see one more rank amateur attending a workshop in trapeze/aerial hoop/silks/fire-performance and learning one trick well enough to pass off a less than average routine based around it and then immediately start marketing themselves as a "professional" or "trained" in whatever discipline they've decided to pillage I swear I will go postal!!!

Do these people have any idea how many years of training, work and sheer physical slog there is involved to become even passable as a professional in any of the aforementioned arts? A REAL FUCKING LOT that's how much. I mean good grief - you don't learn to go en pointe after a couple of hours of practise and then march into the Royal Ballet announcing you are now a trained ballet dancer “so give me a job!”

And it's the "frilly pant" brigade (as a performer I admire once called them) who are doing these things. It's the people who once mastered tassel twirling after a few hours in a workshop and promptly got themselves a MySpace and started discussing what their rates should be. Fuck all, that's how much! Seriously!

I cannot stress enough how dangerous all of this is becoming; the pool of decent, legitimate and paid work available to actual skilled and talented performers is diminishing by the day - it's becoming a paddling pool and these "performers" are wading in our paddling pool.

And it doesn't end there - they are now branching out into the world of Event Management, starting up their own little nights and calling themselves promoters. The whole thing is going to implode and quite frankly I think I will be relieved when it does. An artform I once loved, that once excited me is now a sensitive subject that leaves me frustrated and bored.

I feel better now; I think I'll go read one of my Judy Garland books, just to remind me that there was once a time when talent actually meant something.

Angry Lucille, signing off. x

A Musing; you get what you pay for.

I've been thinking recently about value for money when it comes to entertainment and theatre. The thing is, we are as a nation, a big bunch of complainers and for some it's what they do best and, having said that, I do think that when it is justified then you are absolutely within your rights to complain; there's a fly in my soup and all that.

But when it comes to something as objective as art where can you draw the line? If someone leaves a theatre having not liked what they saw and subsequently asks for a refund then I think we are straying into a gray area.

Sometimes it's black; Disgruntled Patron - "I found that offensive, there was nudity, swearing and people making jam out of baptised babies!" Helpful Steward - "Oh I am sorry Sir/Madam (NB: I'm all about equal ops when it comes to complainers!) Did you not read the disclaimer on the flyer/poster/ticket - Warning; May Contain Baby Jam? I'm afraid you were made aware and as such we cannot issue a refund in this instance".

And sometimes it's white; Disgruntled Patron - "Excuse me, I paid to see the Sound of Music and what I got was an angry lesbian shouting expletives at me for most of the evening" Helpful, albeit foul-mouthed, Steward - "Well fuck me and call me Wendy, you are absolutely fucking right, that was unexpected, here's your fucking money back".

But then there's the grey area of "Well I just plain didn't like that, can I have my money back?".

Well...no. No you can't. It can't be helped if it wasn't your cup of tea now can it? That's the risk you take when engaging in culturally stimulating activities such as going to the theatre now isn't it?

Now I don't mean to sound like a pretentious twit but to me that is much the same as ordering something in restaurant, eating every last morsel and then at the very end claiming it wasn't up to much and you'd really rather not pay for it. Tough tittie, you ate it!

I am going somewhere with this; although I think art is objective and you can't justifiably ask for a refund just because you didn't like something I do firmly believe in giving someone what they pay for. If you charge them £20 for something then you darn well give them £20 worth of a good time, on all counts. Quality of show, venue, service delivery - the whole shebang has to be top notch for £20, particularly at Fringe time.

The only thing I have dished out £20 of my hard earned (and in short supply *sob*) cash for this year is La Clique and even with a show of this calibre I still have a couple of minor suggestions on how to make that £20 go a little farther.
Let me preface this by saying that the show and quality of acts at La Clique is so amazingly high that you do forget the cost but...
The close to 2 hour long queue to get a seat (just a seat, not even a decent seat) is a bit much therefore I would suggest for £20 you get an assigned seat and for those of us that don't get into that queue in time or rather don't want to have to stand in the rain for nearly 2 hours should pay slightly less for a standing ticket, which makes up half of their house anyway.
Given the nature of the venue and the way they pack them in there is restricted viewing and quite frankly a bit of a battle for a decent viewpoint - again, someone in this position shouldn't have to pay the same amount as those sat comfortably at the front.
Secondly; by running things in this manner you are narrowing your audience - for those who are disabled or elderly, do they have to queue for the two hours to get a seat?

However, these are minor gripes (this is a blog based on complaints after all) as I have yet to encounter a dissatisfied La Clique customer.

What does seem to have produced many an unhappy and disgruntled customer however is Club Noir's Edinburgh Fringe Show this year, which is plain from the reviews at EdFringe.com. I have to confess I wasn't in attendance but a few people I know were and the general consensus was not positive. In addition to this the majority of the complaints are the same ones I had last year, as I was at that one.
My issues were with a number of things; ramming a venue that, had it been at the appropriate capacity levels would have been perfectly suitable to a cabaret show to the point of bursting - it was hot, unpleasant, you couldn't see a thing if you weren't right at the front and you couldn't get near the bar for love nor money. Now these are the sorts of complaints you expect from a dirty techno night where everyone is too off their tits to care, not a burlesque club.

What I want to know was Club Noir at the Fringe a night club with a show tacked on or a show that has descended into a night club? It seems that their advertising has led a lot of people who bought tickets and left disappointed or angry this year to believe they were getting a sit-down cabaret show when actual fact they were going to a burlesque/fetish themed night club where the intention is to get wrecked while a show goes on in the background. Those who did just that, and had a great time it would seem (which is totally fine and I'm glad) appear to be Club Noir regulars (at least that's what this years reviews have led me to believe) and as such know what to expect and pay little heed to the quality of the show as long as they get a little bit of glitz.

Now, for £20 (which is what a Club Noir ticket cost this year plus booking fee) you have an obligation to give your audience a brilliant experience all round - which they do in Glasgow at their regular nights at the Carling Academy - and at the Fringe when drink prices are high and people come from all across the country you can't afford to scrimp. It's unethical to pack them in like sardines and not care much for the quality of the rest of the experience just to maintain the tag-line - "the biggest burlesque club in the world". Biggest night club or show? In terms of numbers through the door for a night club of this genre certainly, but in terms of showmanship and burlesque entertainment, absolutely not.

From the sounds of things I would have asked for my money back as well and to be honest I would have done so last year as well if I had actually paid for the ticket.

And to sign off; Jim Bowen was part of their line-up? Again, you are paying 20 quid for a show whose directors have clearly not thought through their programming to the benefit of their audience. He may be a pop-culture icon but you don't need to read the dreadful reviews he is getting this year to realise that perhaps he is not ideal for the cutting edge show that Club Noir inaccurately claims to be.

Special Agent Lucille reporting from Week 2 of the Edinburgh Fringe & beyond...

Right...well...I've not long crawled out from underneath my duvet where I have been hiding since the 12th.

I've managed a good solid 2 days of sleep catch-up (deprived doesn't even begin to describe my sleep reserves by Tuesday, we need to invent a new word). At present I am quaffing some cheap shite red wine before setting off for the Smirnoff Underbelly to appear at Sideshow, I feel that this helps the blogging process.

According to my last report I was about to embark on week 2 of my Fringe based shenanigans by appearing at the Ministry of Burlesque's 3-night run of Edinburgh High Tease at The Voodoo Rooms. I am delighted to say that this was a roaring success and tonnes of fun! Each night was packed out, with standing room only and then some on both the Friday and Saturday night.
The bill featured some of the burlesque and cabaret elite from across the world; award-winning songstress Dolores Delight, the queen of British burlesque, Kittie Klaw, the epitome of glamour and hollywood chic, Missy Malone, punk-burlesque icon Kitten on the Keys, compere and ukele extraordinaire Des O Conner (yes, alright, not the Des O Conner but rather part of a crack team of Des O Conner's whose mission it is to bring blisteringly good entertainment to the masses). Who else? The hysterical, can-can dancing experts Gypsy Charms & Viva Misadventure, London's vaudeville celebrities Pustra & Vile-een and of course the glamorous, bent on world domination, Molly Crabapple. It was such an honour to be performing amongst such talent, all of whom were some of the nicest people I have ever met.

During this run we had the Battle of Burlesque where some of freakiest and chicest new burlesquers of the UK fought it out for a covetted performance spot at this years biggest party, hosted by Bizarre Magazine, The Bizarre Ball. Bizarre were in attendance so expect announcements of the winners soon.

In between all of this, somewhere, Rufus and I taught a roving BBC Radio reporter how to fire-eat and juggle for the Fred MacAulay Show, being broadcast live every morning of the Fringe at the Spiegel Garden. This was a peculiar gig as it involved being in full clown make-up, on the street at 9am, doing something for the Radio that is entirely visual....hmmm. However, it was jolly good fun and great publicity. I can report that the reporter did succeed at least once with fire-eating and luckily was already a competent juggler!

So that was that; After the last MoB show on the 9th, I of course not knowing my limits spent far too much time with my drink tickets in the bar afterwards (I really can't be held responsible, the chat was very good!) which meant I went into one of the biggest events of my career on a measly couple hours sleep. Not to worry, fuelled by double espressos and cigarettes I powered on through.

On Sunday, The Dr Sketchy 1st Birthday Bash, at The Arches. I can't really begin to describe this event, I'm still in awe of its success. At double our usual capacity I am delighted to say that we filled the place for both the party and the art session beforehand. Kitten on the Keys was a joy and Glasgow loved her, as was predicted, her unique brand of punk cabaret and smutty songs was hilarious. Molly Crabapple received the royal welcome she deserved, it is after all, down to her that Glasgow has such a wonderfully entertaining way to spend a Sunday afternoon every month. She signed books, sold merchandise, had her picture taken - she got the celebrity treatment she deserved.

The show was incredible, everyone was well received and it filled me with pride to produce an event with such a stellar line-up of hugely experienced, talented and consummate professionals.
Although I was exhausted I had the time of my life, and the champagne backstage keep me going (my lushness knows no limits!)
On a rather exciting side note - Alisdair Gray was in attendance sketching at the session!!!!!! If you don't know who that is go look him up, you'll understand why I was humbled and excited by the fact he was there.

There are some hilarious and beautifully candid backstage shots courtesy of our amazing Stage Manager, Miss Carrie, up on the Sketchy MySpace, do have a look if you are remotely interested - www.myspace.com/sketchyglasgow.

Blissful and exhausted it was homeward bound, with a few guests, for tea and chat then bed by 4am (Again! Argh!)

The following day was a relative write-off until the evening when Molly Crabapple, myself and Rufus went to Edinburgh for her appearance in And The Devil Will Drag You Under - an eccentric and excellently produced cabaret show from Des O Conner and Pustra/Vile-een's Vaudeville.

This is where it gets messy; from there we joined Des for his appearance in Sideshow at the Underbelly after which we met with Missy Malone and the Sideshow team for 1 or 2 (perhaps 5) wee drinks. Time of course got away from us and it was about 4am before we realised we were still drinking, in Edinburgh and Molly had a plane to London to catch (in Glasgow!!!) at 7am!
Sleep, as I'm sure you have worked out, was not on the cards. But this doesn't matter, I can sleep when I'm dead, it was entirely worth it. If not only for the banter with such lovely people but to have Molly sit and sketch everyone beautifully as we all sat around enjoying ourselves.
I think that's everything, it's all been such a whirlwind. It will need to be all for now as I have yet another show to do this evening and must be off - see you in September!

Reporting from the glamorous world of showbiz...and I’m bloody exhausted!

Fringe madness has begun and it occurred to me that I completely neglected to blog the amazing time I had last year during the run of Waiting for Groucho, which considering some of the fantastic experiences and shows we had that is a crying shame. So since this is my first day off since the 31st I thought I'd take this opportunity to document some of the fun had thus far.
Things kicked off on Thursday 31 July with the rather spectacular List Magazine's Festival Launch Party at the glamorous (and prestigious!) Spiegel Garden. Apart from the fact that the weather was a tad inclement I thoroughly enjoyed swanning around as a silvery, white feathered show girl – even if my feathers did get a bit soggy and my complimentary bottles of 1881 beer didn't quite go with my outfit!

Myself, Daiquiri Dusk, Vendetta Vain & Cat Aclysmic were also assisting to promote TEAZE at the event, a glamorous burlesque fundraiser in aid of St Columbus Care Hospice that we will all be appearing at on Friday 22 August at Studio 24 – see my calendar for details.
Then from one party to another we swung by The Stand Comedy Club's Launch Party for a quick drink and injection of laughs before calling it a night. We got there just in time to see Tom Stade, one of my Fringe favourites, if you are looking for some comedy on your Fringe Wish List do try and see him (and Phil Nicol).

Sunday 3 August saw Rufus T Fahrenheit and I appearing at the first night of Fringe institution The Bongo Club Cabaret, as always this was riotously good fun and we were well looked after by fabulous producer – Wild Card Kitty. Our compere for the evening was Luke Wright, the motor-mouthed performance poet, whose wit and charm held the evening together splendidly. He has two shows this year at the Underbelly – Who Writes This Crap? and a Poet's Work is Never Done.Also on the bill was the beautiful, mini-starlette Amelie Soliel, the hula-hooping pocket rocket Anna Lamb (awesome!), international drag sensation Bunny Galore, our friend and wonderful performer Miss Leggy Pee and some rather handsome boys from a dance show at the Udderbelly for whom my only complaint was that they didn't remove their t-shirts! Phew, thanks to sponsorship from Red Stripe the beer and chat was flowing until 4am – got home a touch late!

On Monday 4 August we were back in Glasgow for the first class of our Fire Performance Workshops – this was a huge success, our pupils are all naturals and we expect to have some talented fire newbies on our hands. To promote the workshops Rufus, myself and class participant Daiquiri Dusk took part in a photo shoot for Closer Magazine, Heat Magazine and weirdly enough Marie Claire, who knew women's glamour mags were so interested in fire-performance?Laura from Channel 4s online lifestyle series, Bite, was also there taking part – we had her fire-eating within the hour and she interviewed us along with some of the pupils so keep your eyes peeled for that broadcast.

And finally Tuesday 5 August – Rufus and I were hot-footing it (literally!) back to Edinburgh for a photo call with Wild Card Kitty and cabaret super-star Kitten on the Keys to promote The Bongo Cabaret. These photos are going to look super; Rufus was fire-breathing across the venues quadrangle while we ladies pouted and posed! Keep an eye on Fringe Media publications to have a look.
Following on from the shoot we enjoyed a lovely lunch and a natter with Wild Card Kitty and Kitten on the Keys where Kitten enjoyed her first taste of Haggis! Or as she called it Haggis Nips & Titties!

Rufus and I were booked later in the evening to wow the crowds at The Skinny Magazine's Festival Launch Party, this was a huge amount of fun as we ran around as our cheeky clown characters fire-breathing and fire-eating for the glitterati of the Fringe. The party was sponsored by Miller's Gin & Spicebox so hooray for complimentary booze and nibbles, it's why I got into this game.

And LASTLY we were then lucky enough to score some free tickets to see the absolutely AWESOME Wau-Wau Sisters at the Baby Belly. Good Lord those girls are fantastic – a raucous, unpredictable and downright smutty burlesque/cabaret revue. The audience are part of the show, the girls perform acrobatics whilst playing their cheeky country songs and to be quite honest you'll just need to go see it because anything I say here will just not do it justice!
This show was accompanied by several beers in the cabaret bar so I'm feeling a little fragile, a little exhausted but plenty joyful!

I'm off to relax whilst I still can as the rest of the week is going to be jam-packed; Molly Crabapple is coming to visit, there's 3 nights with the fabulous Ministry of Burlesque at the Voodoo Rooms, Rufus and I will be attempting to teach a BBC reporter how to fire-eat and juggle for a spot on the Fred MacAulay show this Friday and then of course the hotly anticipated Dr Sketchy Glasgow's Birthday on Sunday at The Arches! Phew, if I'm still alive come Monday the 11th I will report all!