Channel 4 were filming a 'crime scene' for a new drama outside my flat on Wednesday night. How gritty. We had a letter through the post informing us that it was going on and they would be taking over our street with catering, costume trucks and lots of crew cars. The North Face Army was coming to Hackney! This was most inconvenient since it meant they had closed my short cut to the train station resulting in my having to walk the long way to catch my train. A whole minute walk to the station rather than the usual 30 seconds! Poxy film crews, who do they think they are? I was tempted to hang around and bombard them with the usual questions I get when I'm filming in a street:
"What are you doing?"
"Is it for The Bill?"
"Is anyone famous in it?"
"Can I be in it?"
Repeat to fade . . .
Luckily, however, I had better things to do with my time than harass Channel 4. I was going to a Burlesque show! Twitty McPhee (my best mate despite her being a terrible influence) came up trumps with 6 complimentary tickets for the 'Hurly Burly' show at the Garrick Theatre on Charing Cross Road.
I've never thought about going to see Burlesque before as I thought I might find it a bit intimidating. All those beautiful, confident women splashing around in a giant Martini glass wearing nothing but a discreetly placed ostrich feather and nipple tassles, but I think that probably say's more about me than them. But actually to see a performance like this has completely changed my opinion of it, it was brilliant!
We started the evening off with a couple of regulation white grape juices in a pub conveniently located next to the theatre called The Garrick Arms. It was a the perfect place for a pre-theatre swifty, with friendly staff, beautiful chandeliers and a fine selection of nuts. I think one could describe it as a 'solid boozer'. Then, once we were nicely lubricated, we collected our tickets from the box office and went in. I haven't been to the theatre for about 2 years since my friend took me to see 'Piaf' at the Donmar Warehouse. We'd recently watched the film 'La Vie en Rose' and I had became slightly obsessed with the 'little sparrow', but I think I've weaned myself off of that obsession. But whenever I go to the theatre I always think I should go more often, its good to support the Arts but it's also great to see how talented some people are, the only problem is the price of the tickets. And the price of the interval drinks.
The Garrick Theatre is another beautiful old theatre which opened in 1889 and is named after David Garrick, considered one of the most influential Shakespearean actors in the world, ever. No, I've never heard of him either but pretty awesome to have a theatre named after you? I wonder if I'll ever have anything named after me? Maybe a wine . . . or some sort of pie . . . Anyway, it has a gold leaf auditorium and is a Grade II listed building, so get yourself down there!
The show itself, directed by William Baker, friend and collaborator of Kylie Minogue, was amazing and I would definitely recommend trying to get tickets for it. The girls in it were stunning and the costumes, before they got taken off, were great. My only critisism would be that there was a sort of 'Michael Buble' type singer at the very start of it for 2 songs and then he disappeared which was a shame as he was very good, and there didn't seem to be much of a theme or story apart from boobs and bums but I guess it didn't need a story! Not only were the performers very talented but they also had real figures, they weren't super skinny, but real girls with bums and thighs so it wasn't intimidating at all. I think one could call it a celebration of the the female form. The girls were confident, witty and I would rate the Hurly Burly show 8.5 vajazzles out of a possible 10.
After the show though things took a slightly funny turn which I only have a hazy memory of. And Twitty McPhee seems to have no memory of, although the kebab trail she found in her kitchen yesterday morning should be some clue as to what happened to her. I think we ended up in some sort of underground bar / club as I woke up yesterday with a photo of what looks like a scantily clad green smurf on my camera and a badge on my coat proclaiming "I can lick my own bumhole". Just for the record, I can't. Although I bet those Hurly Burly girls probably could.