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The brown word: Death on the Throne @gatehouselondon

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We’re warned at the start of the show with an upbeat number that this is not the usual sort of musical. And it turns out to be just that. But with boundless enthusiasm and energy from its two leads, who deploy a range of voices and breathtaking energy to create a series of voices for puppet characters, a bedtime story becomes a silly oddball tale about four souls stuck in purgatory. With puppets. And various toilet humour references. It’s currently playing at Upstairs At The Gatehouse . The piece starts as a bedtime story. Daddy (Mark Underwood) is about to read a bedtime story for Louise (Sarah Louise Hughes). But her stomach felt funny, and soon, she went to the bathroom. Then, for reasons that seem to only make sense in the confines of the show, they start telling the story of four people who died in unfortunate circumstances in the bathroom. Depicted as puppets, they’re stuck in purgatory as St Peter doesn’t have enough space for each of them in the afterlife. And so begins a puppe...
Bar Bitches

This weekend I decided not to go on an out-of-town excursion as enough excitement had happened in the week to deserve a jolly good sleep in.

I did go to a funky bar at Balham (gateway to the south some may recall Peter Sellers once saying). It is zone three south London on the Northern Line - aka a bloody long way to go for a bar!

What was I doing in Balham? Well it was for Helen's birthday. Helen grew up with Skye so that's the connection. Anyway I was due to meet Skye early at the place but tube delays meant I was a little late. Well over an hour late. There was a line up to get inside this bar that was probably the most sophistimicated bar in Balham. It was quite funky once you got over the fact that it was located outside a Sainsbury's car park.

So I had to enjoy the October London night air. London in October is quite refreshing.

Twenty minutes later and still standing in line to get into a bar however the novelty begins to wear off and you start to realise that the refreshing night breeze gets a little icy.

Eventually I did get inside. Skye was looking hot to trot with a new hair doo so we started checking out the talent. The bar had several peculiar things about it:
* Lots of large tropical fish in a huge tank set against the wall. The fish were mesmerised when one of the punters held a copy of a copy of a Chanel bag up to the glass.
* It wasn't terribly crowded (which made me wonder about the need to wait outside)
* It was full of fauxmosexuals. This is the new London term for metrosexual males or those who are ambiguously straight.

Highlights of the evening included the following revelations...
* Some guys don’t mind having a girl kick them in the pants to get their attention. But he still told Skye he was gay.
* We made new friends with four guys - blue shirt guy, stripey shirt guy, star trek guy (because his shirt looked like it was something Captain Picard would wear on vacation) and paranoid guy (because he thought we were talking about him when in fact Skye and her friends were checking out the others).
* By midnight it was time to head back north. Sobered up in Soho over blueberry pancakes and bacon at 1am and made friends with a drunk waiter who was about to be fired. At least he got our order right. Neighbouring diners were disappointed we were not from Sydney but relieved we were not a couple (well we were in Old Compton Street).

Things to do
* Catch more nightbusses home. You can make new friends when little people fall asleep on your shoulder.
* Stop applying for tickets to BBC shows. I am swamped with them. Have two radio shows to see early this week and Celebrity Mastermind next Sunday...

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