Sunday, August 22, 2010

Beware, Beware the Forest of Sin

I went to see Operation Greenfield by The Little Bulb Theatre Company again last night. Once again I sat and wept all the way through the last 30 minutes. It is without a doubt the most beautiful piece of theatre I've ever seen. Both times I've seen it now, I've sat in the audience and been so monumentally happy with what I was watching, where I was and what I was doing that I've just cried.

It's definitely worth mentioning that I'm a complete girl when it comes to emotion. When they say there are two reactions; fight or flight, they didn't factor in my body which just says "How do you feel about crying instead?" and then it inevitably happens. For some reason the body I was blessed/lumped with just assumes that puffy eyes and water seeping out of my eyes in a Victoria Falls style manner will help any situation. Sigh. But it was amazing. And everyone in the whole world should run out and see it as soon as possible so they can have the notoriety they deserve.

I had the weird experience yesterday of not being able to remember the tune of a song that, the day before, I had completely stuck in my head but couldn't work out what the song was. This was more frustrating than trying to piece together the plot of Inception. Totally bizarre situation to be phoning people and asking them to hum you the song that you were bothering them with the day before...they were not happy to reminded of either my or the tune's existence.

My head is a bit all over the place to be honest. The thing is I have the competition tomorrow for stand-up comedy and while I'm totally aware that these competitions can mean nothing at all - it would be really nice to do well. I have a history of really screwing up competitions. I think the most annoying one was the last one I did where I had to go first and the judge came up to me afterwards and said he thought I should have won but he didn't vote for me because I was first. What? Made very little sense to this bear but ah well.

If I was convinced enough that one day I'll have my career without having to suck up to the people who make careers happen I would commit merry comedy suicide on the stage. Just walk out into that lonely spotlight and blow raspberries to the tune of 99 Red Balloons until they boo me off or applaud me as the heroine of rubbish comedy that I long to be. It was very nice to see Josie Long perform the other day she is an absolute reminder that if you work hard enough you won't necessarily have to stick to the accepted methods of doing stand-up comedy. She's an absolute inspiration. And lovely. With much musclier legs than I would have imagined having seen her in a dress on Friday. But that is beside the point.

One day I will be an accepted comedy god - at the point where the radiation has melted our brains to such mush that we find whimsy with very little structure or meaning hysterical. Then I'll be paraded round the streets in a purple dress and hat with tail feathers and I'll be allowed to eat only raspberries and toast if I see fit. No one will make me go to work and the Underground will be renamed the Lexxington. I'm almost completely certain there will be more days off work and school for those of us that need them and all television will have to be of a certain grade to get on the telly box. Nothing with the c-bomb in it will reach our ears and children will be children for years and years instead of believing they should morph into sexed up midgets at the age of eleven.

It will become compulsory to visit a foreign country at least every other year - by hovercraft, of course to save the planet the hovercrafts will run on marmite - and there will be no excuse for xenophobia. Safari parks will also become a staple feature in everybody's weeks, they absolutely MUST be visited so you can relax and enjoy animals and feel good about the world. Humans are not everything.

It's also going to be pretty important about this time that a tunnel is built between Somerset and London so I can go and visit my family a lot because I get mighty homesick and it would be nice to not have to use the A303. It's very pesky to live in a tourist destination when you want to get there in under 6 hours and you don't want to have to slow down to 10 miles an hour to go past Stonehenge. IT'S CRAP! Just look at a picture of it and I guarantee it will be exactly the same as slowing down as you drive past and pointing it out to your disinterested children who are also aware IT'S CRAP! They should definitely have 'tourist' and 'local' traffic lanes for these occasions so that I can zoom on past in my little car (Roly - because Dad thinks he looks more like a roller skate than a car) and pity the children in the back of the car that are learning to loath Salisbury.

I think I'd also have to find a way to make hair dry instantly - perhaps installing some sort of Sims style 'get ready' where you just jump in a circle and you're all done instantaneously. I don't like the post-shower drying phase at all but I do really like a good shower. It's just tough.

I mean, obviously these are just basic changes for now and I'll sort out economy and infrastructure later. But sod those because my ideas are much more interesting and important. Firstly though I need to conquer the comedy world - and this starts for me, tomorrow, I need to go through this heat or I think it'll be a very not nice ending to a lovely Festival. Courage to the sticking place and all that...

Yesterday I managed to coerce my hip to take a holiday from it's usual position in the socket it has known and loved for many may years. This is awkward now because it didn't really have anywhere it wanted to go particularly and so has chosen to hang around like a yob under a lampost just outside its designated parking space. It's pretty awkward and painful if I'm honest and it is making me walk like a total spanner today so if you see me please don't laugh or push me over. Sigh and sigh some more.

1 comment:

  1. Why not just visit your family by peanut butter powered helicopter?