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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...
Weather resolution

Guy-who-took-room-after-me ends up suggesting on Friday night we go for a drink, which after leaving work at 8pm I figure what the hell, I'll skip gym for that. However:

  • He has another commitment so drinks will commence at 10.30pm, which is hardly enough time before closing to make it worth the effort, but I figure I am only a 20 minute walk to soho so I should be arsed to do that. I spend the hour and a bit between getting home and going out again discussing the imminent Papal death with lapsed Catholics back in Australia.
  • After quick drink in soho Guy-who-took-room-after-me suggests we head to G-A-Y at the Astoria. He bought with him fliers to get cheap (and quick) entry which I thought was pretty organised. The only thing to wait for was the security check. Security guard frisks me and queries the five pound note I have scrunched up in my jeans pocket. I say to him, "its money" and I guess that dumb response suggested I was not some coke addict.
  • G-A-Y at the Astoria on Friday nights is pretty casual and relaxed. The music on Fridays is all ABBA, Kylie and a curiously high number of Pointer Sister tracks which will make you wish you put on your "Choose Life" t-shirt, shoulder pads and extra thick hair gel. But hey when you can sing along to all the tracks it can't be that bad a thing...
  • Drinks come in cans which is fine if you like English beers or cider. Beer or cider in cans in a very warm and sweaty environment is such an experience, but it does encourage the punters to drink more... Well those punters that can take their alcohol - and take English beer or cider.
  • It was probably around the fourth or fifth can of cider that Guy-who-took-room-after-me found an Asian midget and started snogging the thing.
  • I realised I was way too sober and after the earlier discussion about Catholicism really not ready for the wild crazy hedonism that seemed to be breaking out on the dance floor amongst the discarded cans, the warm air, the bright lights, and the Spice Girls Movie playing on a large screen and the endless stream of classic pop from the eighties. So I called it a night at the awfully sensible hour of 2am, wishing (on three separate occasions) someone a good night after they tried to distract me from leaving.
  • Five minutes later I was home... Location location... I got a text today enquiring if I got home last night and some references to a few too many cans of cider but I figure since I make a lousy drinking buddy and I don't drink cider, I probably wouldn't skip gym again for that. Although I did download some Pointer Sisters tracks from iTunes for my collection... Baby, make your move, step across the line,
    Touch me one more time, come on, dare me!
    Amen to that...

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