Sunday, July 08, 2007

Nottlesby, the Sarge, and Angry Lesbian Theatre

Beware, gentle reader, of free tickets to anything! The Sarge and I convened this afternoon for a spot of drinking and reminiscing (Yairrrs, the Crimea. Now that was manly fun, eh?) - and as we were snorting our snifters down as though there was no tomorrow, who should heave-to by our tottering bar table, but a comely young lady asking us if we would care, free, gratis, and for nothing, to bolster the numbers at a small theatrical number that was to be performed on the premesis in a matter of minutes. Never ones to thumb our noses at The Arts, the Sarge and I let fly a manly bellow and told said woman that, yes, t'would be our honour and privilege indeed. Merely proffer forth the tickets, and show us the way to the door! The woman kindly obliged, and the Sarge and I, drinking arms raised, snifters charged, repaired thence post-haste.

Ye gods what twaddle ensued.

We suffered (bladders full to capacity, which, alack, is more than can be reported for the house) an hour-and-three-quarters of the most leak-inducing "theater" to ever tread its tinnea'd toe upon the boards. Someone clearly forgot the "you'll laugh" part of the old huckster's promise "you'll laugh, you'll cry, you'll be moved". In short, the piece was about the coming out, and coming-of-age, of a young hip-hop artiste. Now, anyone close to yrs truly knows that the only hip-hop I'm fond of is a many jiggle make sure the last of the effluvia has shot clear when I'm standing trough-side; yet I can assure you that I went in (alebit somewhat well-oiled), and ready to have my mind opened and my experience expanded. Shame I'm not a lady. And an angry, oppressed, sexually-monocular one at that! I do rather think that the whole performance which (despite my lambasting above) wasn't entirely without merit, was better suited to a, shall we say, fringe?, audience.

Not to be daunted (or unnecessarily moistened) the Sarge nipped out for a quick leak mid-show, and, in a stunning display of dexterity worthy of the Brothers Ringling, shot over the side of the bleachers and dropped (noiselessly, mark you!) to the floor - and thence out the door to safety. What was doubly safe was our burgeoning friendship - I thought for a mo. that the Sarge might do a runner, pleading testosterone and brass balls all the way, but no. He was manly enough to return for the Final Chukka and sit the thing out with me. Good show, Sarge!

10 Comments:

Blogger TimT said...

I prefer jiggles to twaddle and snifters to both, but I gather from your visceral account of this show that not only did you not laugh, you cried for pain, and moved with all rapidity for the theatre door upon reaching the end of the act. I salute your fortitude, sir!

Monday, 9 July 2007 00:34:00 GMT+10  
Blogger St John Nottlesby said...

The walls of our fortitude were stormed, I can assure you! But yea did we rally to the onslaught, maintain our composure, and even issue forth a smattering of mild applesauce, er, applause, at the end.

I do feel cultured!

Monday, 9 July 2007 09:13:00 GMT+10  
Blogger Sgt M said...

It was tougher than my days in the Crimean!

But we prevailed, with nought more harm than a diminished constitution!

Monday, 9 July 2007 11:17:00 GMT+10  
Blogger Miss Ember said...

Golly, that was bladder-burstingly amusing! 'Tis jolly to know that Notts and the Sarge have finally met "in the flesh", so to speak. Woof!

Monday, 9 July 2007 12:57:00 GMT+10  
Blogger St John Nottlesby said...

Diminished constitution? Speak for yourself old boy! I wolfed down the finest breaded meat Maggie could sling in our direction with alarming alacrity. Went straight home for a heartburn tablet and a lie down.

I heartily agree with ye Miss E; t'was sound to have shaken the estimable Sarge's hand and made his acquaintance. Hail fellow well met, and all that. He's a damn good egg.

Monday, 9 July 2007 23:12:00 GMT+10  
Blogger alexis said...

I like the sound of those sexual monocles.

Tuesday, 10 July 2007 16:12:00 GMT+10  
Blogger St John Nottlesby said...

So do I, Doctor, and they have to be seen to be believed!

Tuesday, 10 July 2007 21:59:00 GMT+10  
Blogger Mitzy G Burger said...

Hopefully my freebies to the opera this Friday will not floor myself and the Evening's Handbag with a similarly shocking descent into hip hoperatic sapphic savagery. Mind you, that depends on who exactly is being abducted from the Seraglio, and by whom?
Perhaps the chivalrous Nottlesby and Sarge will be waiting in the wings to save the day. Pinkies crossed.

Wednesday, 11 July 2007 11:42:00 GMT+10  
Blogger TimT said...

In other words, one hopes the opera doesn't turn out to be a flopera.

I'm sorry, I don't know what came over me there.

Wednesday, 11 July 2007 12:04:00 GMT+10  
Blogger St John Nottlesby said...

My God! It's Friday! The Sarge and I are fresh out of greaspaint. Although I did order him to be castrated ... you know. Just in case. One wants one's Palace Eunuchs to be convincing, after all (speaking,as we were, of Flopera).

Saturday, 14 July 2007 00:33:00 GMT+10  

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