We partied on Friday, lay about on Saturday and listened to the cricket on Sunday. It was a lovely evening on Friday thank you Huw and Manuela. We saw little Morgan for the first time, and he is a lovely little thing. He mixes a good Manhattan as well.
We have a gig with the carbonated Satori on Thursday, which means we had to get rehearsing with a bit more alacrity than we would have been. Our rehearsing room gets rather warm in this sort of weather and we sweat a little more than is dignified. Still, needs must as the Neville cries. I seem to have developed a very irritating little tickle at the back of my throat that causes me to start coughing whenever I try to sing Lay it Down. I put it down to a: lack of singing recently and consequential throatal cloggage b: inundation of my vocal chords with hay-fever snot c: not enough gin and tonic. If it goes on like this I’m going to have to rearrange the piece so I can retch into a spittoon at certain intervals. Gloopy. If anyone has any tips, let me know.
On Friday we’re off to Leeshire to the world infamous Leelapolooza festival. We’re both really looking forward to it, since we have had a measure of ennui since we came back from Copenhagen. Leelapolooza will do the trick I’m sure and reengage our enthusiasm motors. I fully expect to have an impacted colon by late Saturday after I have eaten enough pig to fell an adolescent tiger. Mr Burns recounted the harrowing tale of taking the pig to the “trailer of doom” for transportation. It’s a funny thing, but the prospect of having to kill a pig gets worse the closer you come to having to do it. Like shaving, if like me you dislike shaving. Of course, you have to shave the pig after you’ve killed it. I think I have found a career do steer clear from.
Gnome watch. Do you know a real life gnome? I do and he is just like Bowie’s. Keep a look out, there are more than you may think….
See you Thursday. Bring your love and give it to us.
7 comments:
My only tip would be not to position the spitoon too far away, or too close. Try to find a position for it that is 'just right'.
Invaluable, Mr Hughes, as ever.
Maybe I should just wear a bib and allow drool to drip off the end of my chin. In fact, why bother with a bib?
Hell, why bother with clothing of any kind? Maybe just have an absorbant pad placed around your nether areas. If cultivated this 'look' may catch on.
(NB - the above post assumes that you intend to freely urinate and defecate live on stage as well as expectorate. A hat trick of 'ates', if you will. Mr Frictionless; your public expects).
I've wondered into a strange and unusual room of spitting expert bloggers. I try to back out slowly but the exit is closed. And I'm strangely drawn to the heady mix of booze and forthcoming nakedness. What destine awaits my poor soul only time will tell but I probably won't tempt the Gods by breathing in too deep. My last prendre la balle au bond?
Not your last one, certainly not. Second to last maybe, but not the last.
If I were to do the "full evacuation" on stage I think it needs the correct accompaniment. Any ideas? How about "Let it Loose" by the Stones?
How about a classical piece? Something with some impressive stirring movements, anyway...
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