Blogging the Fringe

Friday 10 August 2007

An Indecent Proposal


The young stars of Laine-Johnson Production of the vivid IRA drama “Borstal Boy” strolled with cheeky purpose down the Royal Mile handing out their, equally cheeky, flyers.

“Would you like to see us naked?” they winked as they targeted potential audience members. “How about you? Would you like to see ME naked?”

“Not too young!” one hissed as they passed a group of preteen girls, and they deftly sidestepped to swarm a blushing matron who clutched the advert with a schoolgirl’s pride.

Nothing like a little male nudity to put the spring back in one’s step.

This is by far one of the best methods of advertisement that I have seen.


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Painting the Town

My flat mate and I went out tonight and did what was a whirlwind tour of almost every club, pub, and hole-in-the-wall down Victoria Street, Cowgatehead, Grassmarket, and George IV Bridge. Since my accomplice actually has a job, our adventures clustered around the "early" hours after midnight; apparently in Edinburgh-time, 12-2 am is just foreplay.

We met:

* Javis, a smartly dressed, cigarette-rolling Greek prince seeking a UK wife

* Dave, a Scottish bloke with an affected Canadian accent (well-traveled, eh?). He elbowed me, tripped over my foot and then refused to buy me a drink (maybe I’m just old fashioned?)

* An Indian wit out on the town with his girlfriend (allegedly) and who butted-in inopportunely during a conversation on straight men who seek out gay attention with the strangely relevant, “we do what we like”

* Seamus Thackaberry (a perfectly picturesque name!) and his gang from the Irish Parnassus
Arts Group. They performed at the Fringe Festival last year, and have come back this time as audience members. They assured me that I have a standing invitation to drink with them in Dublin (and little do they know that I am already planning on taking them up on that invitation). The group tried to override my protests and convince me that there were not that many redheads in Ireland….but I think that this was either reverse psychology or a cruel joke. Despite their best efforts, I still cling to the truth: everyone in Ireland is a redhead, has a leprechaun, and only wears green.

I learned that:

* Cobblestones are invitations for twisted ankles and broken heels

* Smoking gives you something practical to do with your hands, air-piano simply does not have the same effect

* Children are always the most faithful audience for a parent's memories; their vested interest is that your stories are also their histories

* There are a lot of stage-artists in Edinburgh, actors, comedians and dancers…but EVERYONE else is a musician. I have never met so many musicians in my life. While Americans are busy trying to figure out which day the music actually died, everyone in Scotland has decided to start a band.


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