And so we hit the uneven boards at our local chiringuito last night, with sand and french toddlers under our feet.
A somewhat crazy night, awash with absolute, sincere appreciation shown by some, mixed with a little disbelief from others, and just a dash of disrespect from a few more.
A strange, and not to be repeated, cocktail. I’m afraid if I knock it back again, I may knock a child out as the result!
Not the best idea to let your kids run riot when there are two, nearly high-kicking, six foot homosexuals in the vicinity.
It was nearly death by Can Can for the little garcon who approached my five inch stilletto during ‘Send In The Clowns’. Send in the nanny, I beseeched inwardly, before we have a ‘crime passionnel.’ Well, it is a passionate song.
Not my favourite performance.
Still – we were paid!
And earlier in the week, to make me even more theatrical and irate, we were called upon to sell our services, as comedy poofs, at some jumped up cow’s fortieth – sorry, thirtieth!
She didn’t want us to sing, just make merry and be gay. Cheek!
When we told her the cost of selling our arse-souls to her up-your-arse pretentious mates , she was far less keen, informing us that she could get a sport’s pundit for the same money.
Still, it is most aggravating when people presume to judge you alongside others, when what you do, is you. No more, no less. How dull this girl appeared, when attempting to get us to reduce our fee she informed us that she could employ some sports’s hack – at a cheaper cost. That’s like hiring a shotputter to do the 100 metres. They are quite different sports!
And therefore have quite different recompense! Ignorant woman.
It is at times like these I always try to remember, a little self worth is a good thing – it takes a whole lot of angst to appear this confident and believe me, it’s gotta be worth it!
I remind Andrew, ignore the silly cow, you were in Miss Saigon once!
And wonderful you were too.
I doubt we shall hear from our lady inquirer again – I very much doubt she was in our audience last night.
She therefore never got to witness the sheer electricity that Andrew created , when he put his fag out ,literally, and dazzled with ‘Empty Chairs At Empty Tables’ from ‘Les Mis’. Not a camp laugh in sight!
So much better, in my opinion, than the shitty film I had the utmost misfortune to sit through the other night. Zut alors! Please, if you’re going to film a musical, at least find actors who can sing. Clue is in the title – musical! I mean, Russell Crowe – Russell No!
Or as Andrew put it – Russell crowed!
The best bit was when Russell croaked!!!
Never again – we found it more than a little miserable. Apart from the outstanding work by Miss Hathaway as Fantine.
Otherwise, dans me ‘umble opinion, it was le pits.
Less crappy, at the weekend, we saw an old flatmate of mine. Mike Stirling and I shared digs when he was rehearsing Les Miserables in London and I was modelling nude for a group of snobby painters in Chiswick. We were both sure of our true talents. Even back then!
Mike has played over a thousand performances as the phantom in the eponymous West End’ musical.
This night, he was superb.
Yet, he still had to contend with audience members crossing in front of him stealing his spotlight, and worse, screeching over him – and not even in the same key!
Some nights we know how he feels.
It is amazing, but, hey, that’s showbiz.
It’s not always appealing.
Ya love it, then ya hate it.
But then again.
There sure ain’t nothing like it!